The polished floors of the east wing glistened under the midday sun, pouring through tall glass windows draped with flowing lace. The faint notes of a waltz filled the ballroom, echoing as Seraphyne turned in a perfect spin, her posture upright, steps precise—until she lost count and faltered.
"Again, Lady Seraphyne," said a calm, patient voice. "Right foot forward on the third beat, not left. You're anticipating the rhythm instead of following it."
Seraphyne—Claire—sighed softly but nodded. "Apologies, Sir Rico. I'll get it right this time."
Sir Rico Burnwick, the ever-composed etiquette and court affairs instructor assigned to her by the Archwingg household, offered a brief smile. He was strict but fair, never losing patience even as she stumbled over steps or accidentally addressed a duchess as a baroness during political mock drills.
Since her reincarnation into the world of The Villainess' Ever After, Claire had taken her new life seriously—especially now that the Crown Prince's banquet was just weeks away. She studied everything: dance, etiquette, current politics, social conversations, table manners, royal gossip. She had the advantage of knowing the novel's events, but she wasn't about to let that lull her into complacency.
The old Seraphyne had eventually cracked under pressure. Claire wouldn't.
She raised her chin and reset her stance, ready to begin again.
But the next spin was interrupted by a knock on the ballroom doors, followed by their sudden swing open.
"Lady Seraphyne?" said a familiar, silken male voice.
Claire turned and immediately recognized the tall figure entering the room, carrying a cloth-covered basket in one hand and a slender wooden box in the other.
Arthur Viremont.
"Arthur," she said, smiling without thinking.
He looked almost exactly as described in the novel: tall, with ash-brown hair that curled at the ends, striking pale green eyes, and the easy grace of someone raised among both wealth and warmth. His words always dripped with charm, but never in excess. He was kind, intelligent, and strangely grounded for a noble.
And in the book, he had loved Seraphyne deeply. He had never stopped treating Seraphyne with decency, even when the world turned against her.
Even when his sister became the star.
Yes. Arthur is the older brother of Ellise in the novel.
"I hope I'm not intruding," Arthur said, offering a gentleman's bow. "I brought you some of the honey-baked bread from our estate. And a new embroidery kit I thought you might enjoy. My mother insisted."
Sir Rico raised an eyebrow but gave a courteous nod. "Lady Seraphyne is in the middle of her lesson."
"I'll be quiet as the breeze," Arthur promised with a grin, stepping forward. "I just thought the lady might enjoy a break."
Seraphyne gave Sir Rico a hopeful glance.
With a long breath, he relented. "Ten minutes."
Arthur stepped beside her and handed over the basket. The warm scent of freshly baked bread wafted up, and Claire's heart unexpectedly fluttered.
"Still remembering I like honey bread," she murmured to herself.
"Pardon?" Arthur asked.
"Ah—just thinking aloud," she replied quickly, smiling as she opened the basket.
They sat together near the practice floor, and Arthur joined her in casual conversation, his voice low and inviting. He spoke of his family's estate, the latest ship docking in the Truvanian eastern port, and how his dog had recently chased a diplomat's horse through the garden.
Claire laughed—real laughter. His presence was calming, like a balm to the pressure she'd been feeling.
Just as she reached for another piece of bread, the doors burst open again.
"Arthur!" a sharp, commanding voice rang out.
Claire's heart skipped.
There she was.
Ellise Viremont.
The villainess. The one she had idolized—the misunderstood, complex, dazzling figure that had captivated readers by the end of book two. Claire's eyes widened as she took in her appearance.
Ellise was stunning.
Dark auburn hair, flowing like a smooth silk. Deep burgundy dress with a square neckline and embroidered cuffs. Her posture was poised, but her presence radiated control. Everything about her exuded maturity, from the cool arch of her brow to the firm set of her mouth.
This was the woman Claire had wanted to become.
The girl she had hoped to reincarnate as.
Arthur stood immediately. "Ellise," he said with a sheepish smile. "I was just visiting Lady Seraphyne."
"I noticed," Ellise said with narrowed eyes, her voice calm but unmistakably sharp. She turned toward Claire, her expression unreadable.
Here it comes, Claire thought, holding her breath. This is the moment she looks down on me. The beginning of the icy rivalry.
But instead, Ellise did something… unexpected.
She smiled.
It was small. Subtle. But unmistakably warm.
"Lady Seraphyne," she said, dipping her head in a respectful greeting. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Claire blinked. Her mind short-circuited.
She scrambled to her feet, instinctively curtsying. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Ellise. I've heard much about your… grace."
Ellise's expression didn't waver. "I only hope I live up to the praise."
Claire's heart pounded. In the book, she remembered this scene—faintly. The first meeting between the heroine and villainess. It had caught readers by surprise: Ellise greeting Seraphyne with courtesy, not scorn. It was the turning point, the moment people around her began to wonder if the infamous Lady Ellise Viremont had changed.
Right. This is that scene, Claire thought. The calm before the storm. The first whisper of her redemption arc.
And yet, standing in front of her, Claire felt nothing but awe.
She looked up at Ellise the way a child looks at a shooting star—wide-eyed and reverent.
She was exactly how a villainess should look—elegant, powerful, restrained. Claire's idol. Her dream role.
If only I were in your place, she thought wistfully.
But she wasn't.
She was Seraphyne Archwingg. The golden girl. The sweet protagonist.
Claire snapped out of her daze as Ellise turned back to her brother, murmuring something about "dragging him back before their tutor noticed."
Arthur gave Claire an apologetic look. "Until next time?"
"Of course," she said gently. "Thank you again for the bread."
He smiled, and then they were gone—just like that.
Claire stood alone in the ballroom, Sir Rico returning to his notes as if nothing had happened.
But Claire's mind was swirling.
So that was the villainess.
And she didn't sneer or scoff. She smiled. Just as written. No deviation yet.
Claire shook her head and pressed a hand over her chest.
"No overthinking," she whispered. "Stick to the script. Stay in character. Let the story flow."
With that, she turned back to Sir Rico.
"Shall we continue, Sir?"
"Of course, Lady Seraphyne. From the top."
And Claire smiled.
Because for once, being the heroine didn't seem so bad.