2. Turns Out, Being a Villainess Is Comfortable
After the traffic accident and a long blackout, I finally regained consciousness and blinked in a daze as I took in the unfamiliar scenery around me.
My body lay on a canopy bed with white drapes—so large that it could easily fit seven adults.
Where the heck am I?
Staring at the curtains embroidered with delicate gold thread in the shape of snakes and roses, I suddenly remembered the motorcycle accident that happened just before I lost consciousness. I bolted upright in bed.
I had clearly felt my bones shatter and muscles tear, but somehow, I was completely fine.
While feeling around my body, not even sore, I suddenly panicked when my hand brushed against a… very large chest.
"W-What the…?"
Confused, I glanced down at myself and rushed to the mirror.
"Gasp!"
A shocked breath escaped me.
Reflected in the mirror wasn't the face I'd seen all my life, but the sharp-featured face of a stunning woman.
She had glossy violet hair and striking red eyes.
'She's gorgeous…'
I found myself dumbstruck by her beauty, until I started slapping my cheeks to snap out of it.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
The woman's pale cheeks in the mirror turned bright red from the slaps, but I couldn't stop.
If this was a dream, I needed to wake up.
"Ouch—that hurts."
But… why wasn't I waking up?
Was I losing my mind?
As I reeled from the overwhelming realism of the sensations, a sharp crashing noise stabbed at my eardrums.
I turned instinctively toward the sound. A bowl of porridge had shattered on the floor, and a maid in a Western-style uniform had collapsed in fear.
The moment our eyes met, she bowed deeply and pressed her forehead to the floor.
"Forgive me! I—I saw nothing! I deserve to die! Please have mercy on me, Lady Deborah!"
Deborah? That name sounded oddly familiar…
Then it hit me like lightning—I knew exactly where I had seen it before.
It was the name of the villainess from the R-rated dark fantasy novel "Swallowing the Black Thorn", the one I'd spent so much cash on before the serialization got canceled.
Deborah was the hardcore villainess created by the author specifically to torment the female lead.
I remembered how the comment section was always filled with people cursing her.
This was ridiculous, but nothing else explained what was happening.
This couldn't be a dream—not with how much my cheeks hurt, how vivid my vision was, how her hair and eye color matched the novel's description perfectly.
While I was still trying to make sense of it all, a sharply dressed middle-aged man with a piercing gaze entered the room.
"What is all this noise again?"
As his icy silver-gray eyes met mine, fragments of Deborah's memories began to surface.
This man was Duke Georges Seymour, Deborah's father.
He was a high-ranking Archmage, regarded as one of the five greatest geniuses in the long history of the Seymour family.
Despite his age, the Duke had a lean frame and a frosty aura to match his cold-hearted personality.
The only person he had ever opened his heart to was his wife, Marianne Seymour.
But after she died giving birth to their youngest son, Enrique, the Duke reverted to his emotionless self.
"You disgraceful thing."
He looked down at me with utter disgust, like I was garbage.
He cherished the family's honor, and Deborah, who constantly brought shame to their name, was the bane of his existence.
"So not only are you on a hunger strike, now you're self-harming too?"
He gripped my reddened cheek tightly.
"The only tolerable thing about you is your face—and that's only because it resembles your mother's."
"...."
"And you ruined even that, over a mere gemstone? You are a disgrace to the Seymour family."
According to Deborah's memories, she had caused a massive scene demanding the empire's only pink diamond necklace.
She'd gone on a hunger strike, and now the Duke must have thought I'd escalated to self-harm.
"I've tolerated you because you're my daughter—but even I have my limits. This is your last warning. Lay low and don't cause any more trouble!"
He gritted his teeth, his cold gaze like a blade.
He released my cheek roughly and stormed out of the room.
I stared blankly at his retreating back and let out a deep breath.
"Seriously, how can a dad be that terrifying… and that handsome?"
The killing intent he'd scattered in the room left my body numb.
As I dragged my trembling legs toward the bed, I almost screamed.
The maid who had bowed earlier was now crawling on her belly, desperately begging for forgiveness.
"I'm sorry! I was wrong! Please, just this once, forgive me!"
Suddenly, she began slamming her forehead into the floor hard enough to draw blood.
At that moment, I felt the grim reality of having entered the body of a villainess in a dark, merciless novel.
"…Fine, just go."
My voice came out hoarse from tension.
The maid thanked me repeatedly, cleaned up the spilled porridge in a panic, and ran out of the room like her life depended on it.
As soon as she left, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me.
I slid down to the floor.
'This is insane…'
I'd lived my whole life as a pushover and died young at the age of 24—
Only to reincarnate into this kind of character?
'Why her?'
There were so many other characters to end up as—so why her?
Burying my burning face in my hands, I collapsed back onto the bed and shut my eyes tight.
Hoping…
That when I opened them again, it would all turn out to be just a dream.
***
When I opened my eyes in the morning, I was still the damn villainess, Deborah.
'…But honestly, it's not as bad as I thought?'
It had already been ten days since I woke up in Deborah's body, and surprisingly, I was adjusting quite well.
I thought living as a character with the worst reputation and every negative trait imaginable would be exhausting—but it really wasn't.
'Not even a matter of adapting. Everything's already perfectly set up.'
I could sleep in as long as I wanted on a spacious, fluffy bed, and when I got hungry, I only had to ring a bell for a servant to bring me breakfast right away.
"This is so good…"
I murmured absentmindedly as I took a bite of the pastry that melted sweetly in my mouth.
As if my words were a command, a servant dashed out like a bullet and returned with a basket full of various types of bread.
'Wow. They're really disciplined.'
Even the smallest mumble from me brought exactly what I wanted.
They moved with the precision of a well-trained military unit, probably to avoid setting off Deborah's notoriously explosive temper.
'Well, better this than people who don't listen.'
Nodding to myself, I picked up a round loaf and spread a thick layer of raspberry jam.
As a die-hard bread lover, I found the food here matched my taste perfectly.
"My Lady, would you like some more?"
"No. Leave."
Feeling uncomfortable being watched while I ate, I dismissed the attendant using the tone I remembered from Deborah's memories.
The fresh figs arranged neatly on the plate were delightful, and the mushroom soup was rich and creamy.
After finishing a delicious breakfast, the attendants served fragrant tea in an elegant teacup.
I've never been to a five-star hotel, but I imagine this is what room service there would be like.
I held the antique-style teacup and gazed out the window at the birds chirping outside.
A peaceful and leisurely morning like this…
In all my 24 years of life, I had never experienced such luxurious calm.
Back home, mornings were nothing short of a battlefield.
Our apartment was cramped, and with three siblings, things were always hectic.
My younger brother had his own room, while I shared with my older sister.
My early-rising sister would always turn on all the lights and start blow-drying her hair before I even woke up.
The loud, high-pitched whirring of the dryer drove me crazy every morning—especially since I was a night owl.
"Dohee, I'm wearing this, okay?"
The clothes I bought online after long debates and careful budgeting were often boldly worn first by my sister.
"You wear my stuff too, though."
Of course, what she meant were stretched-out or too-small clothes she no longer wanted—but she always made it sound like she was doing me a favor.
Still, I had such a pushover personality that I couldn't even get mad. I just accepted it like a fool.
"Noona, I'm in a hurry. I'll use the bathroom first!"
After being forcibly woken by my sister and heading toward our one and only bathroom, my little brother would jump in ahead of me like a ninja.
That damn brat always left the toilet a mess, so I had to scrub it down every morning.
Compared to those chaotic mornings, this felt like a vacation at a five-star resort.
"Stay out of trouble and keep yourself in check for now!"
Duke Seymour's stern warning echoed in my mind, and I let out a dry chuckle.
If this was considered punishment, I'd gladly stay in punishment forever.
'When your body is comfortable, your mind relaxes too.'
I put aside any thoughts about the future and simply watched the powdery snowflakes fluttering gently beyond the window.
Once my meal had settled, the attendants brought in warm water and began helping me freshen up.
After putting on petticoats and a corset, another group of attendants walked in holding extravagant dresses.
'Oh right, Deborah custom-ordered some dresses from the atelier last month.'
According to fragments of her memories, Deborah loved shopping.
She often visited the capital's luxury district to splurge on expensive clothing and accessories.
Wearing the latest glittering jewels and flashy dresses to show off her wealth and beauty was one of her hobbies.
Even though I was supposed to be under house arrest, the attendants had casually turned my room into what felt like a private VIP fitting lounge.
Deborah really was on a whole different level.