The role of the villainess is almost always cast before the actress is even chosen. It is a predetermined fate, written into the script long before the first line is spoken.
Selefina Ashcroft realized this during a deceptively perfect afternoon at the Royal Academy.
From a distance, the courtyard was a masterpiece. Sunlight shimmered on white cobblestones, and students moved in elegant circles. But Selefina—guided by the sharp instincts of her past life in theater production—saw the "stage" for what it truly was: a trap.
Near the rosebushes, Mireia Florence, the "innocent" scholarship student, was surrounded by noblewomen.
"I didn't mean it that way..." Mireia stammered, her honey-colored hair catching the light. She looked like a lost fawn.
The noblewomen's voices remained strictly polite. "But you were so familiar with Prince Lucien. People might misunderstand."
It wasn't bullying; it was stagecraft.
The positioning was too deliberate. The lighting hit Mireia's tearful eyes perfectly. The surrounding students stood at the exact distance required to be "witnesses." It was a scene waiting for its hero.
Right on cue, he appeared.
"What is going on here?"
Prince Lucien Evel stepped forward, his platinum blonde hair glowing with divine radiance. He moved with choreographed grace, shielding Mireia from the "bullies."
Click.
Selefina felt the narrative lock into place.
The Prince was the Protector.
Mireia was the Protected.
The crowd was the Audience.
And for this play to work, it now demanded an Antagonist.
Memories of her past life as a production manager flooded back. Accidents don't happen by chance; they happen because the plan is too perfect. And in this academy, who was the most suitable person to carry the burden of "villainy"?
The Marquis's daughter. The cold, disciplined fiancée.
Selefina hadn't spoken a word, yet the world had already decided she was the villain. She was being sacrificed simply because it was aesthetic for her to be the enemy.
"Lady Selefina?" her maid, Liz, whispered. "Is something wrong?"
"The script is being written without my consent, Liz," Selefina replied, her fingers tightening on her fan.
In the courtyard, Lucien murmured kind words to Mireia. It was a "righteous" conclusion. A beautiful scene. And that was exactly why it was repulsive.
They are setting the stage to roast me, Selefina thought, watching from the shadows. And they expect me to wait for my cue.
"Not this time," she whispered, her voice like ice. "If you want a villainess, find someone else. I'm walking off this stage before the first act even begins."