CHAPTER 01
‘Where… am I?’
When I opened my eyes, I saw a ceiling I didn’t recognize.
Gone was the dingy wallpaper I knew so well, down to the number of stains. In its place was a ceiling covered in dazzling patterns that made my eyes sting just from looking at them.
This bizarre situation was something I had read about in books many times before. So, even though I was dazed, I managed to come to what I thought was a logical conclusion.
‘Dimensional travel? No… Possession is the trend nowadays.’
The conclusion I came to had zero realism.
‘If this is possession, then who have I possessed? A saintess? A villainess? Maybe a side character? Did I end up in the last novel I read?’
A ridiculous thought, perfectly fitting for someone well-versed in romance fantasy.
And yet, despite how insane this all was, I didn’t feel too bad about it.
Possession meant romance, right?
In my harsh reality, weighed down by financial struggles, I didn’t have the luxury of dating—heck, I could barely make friends.
Still lying down, I lifted my head to check my body.
‘Short.’
My pale, squishy-looking arm was clearly that of a child.
I straightened up awkwardly and sat up.
My view was significantly lower than usual.
‘This is possession!’
The highlight of any possession story!
I waddled over to the mirror in this unfamiliar body.
“Waaah!”
I couldn’t stop myself from screaming at the reflection.
Instead of my usual dull, dark brown hair, a child with smooth, lemon-blonde hair and shimmering violet eyes was squishing her soft cheeks in the mirror.
‘So pretty! So beautiful!’
Her eyes drooped gently like a puppy’s, and even the beauty mark at the corner of her mouth was charming.
No matter how I looked at it, even if I did a backflip, this was a doll-like face that demanded admiration.
“This is me…?”
Yessss!
I’d always wanted to say something that sounded like a main character’s line. I could finally check that off my wish list.
‘Even the clothes feel fancy…’
The fabric of the clothes I was wearing was smooth—clearly made from expensive material.
Unlike my drab real life, would I now live without worrying about money, surrounded by beauties showing off for me?
But then…
Whose body had I entered?
‘The original owner? Where did they go?’
The thought gave me goosebumps.
What if my arrival meant they had vanished?
Guilt began to creep in. But selfishly, my conscience-free heart just kept rolling a snowball of joy.
I was just starting to enjoy my tap dance of delight, trying to figure out what novel I’d ended up in, when—
“Miss, are you alright?”
A woman dressed like a servant from a webtoon or book cover rushed in, her face shocked—probably having heard my scream.
Startled by the sudden noise, I stumbled.
“Aaaah!”
Everything happened in slow motion. It felt like time had fragmented into tiny pieces, and I could clearly see every change in the woman’s face as she reached out.
“Lady Armel!”
Was this punishment for stealing someone else’s life? Was I really going to end up with a crushed-skull ending?
“Got you!”
Thankfully, the servant caught my tiny hand just in time.
She succeeded, but…
The squishy hand that had been mine just moments ago was now gently gripped in hers, while I lay face-down on the floor like a tragic pancake.
‘Wait, wasn’t this a possession story?’
I stared blankly at my now translucent, shimmering hand.
This hand, larger than the child’s, was my original one. It wasn’t a child’s hand—it was mine.
‘Even in soap operas, there are limits to how dramatic things can get!’
My body, which I had been moving with my own will just moments ago, was lying right there.
That small, limp body clearly looked wrong to anyone.
My outstretched hand was transparent—so out of place, like someone had messed up my opacity settings.
‘I’m screwed.’
Do people ever crash-land in possession stories?
Why did it have to be me?
*****
Right before I fell asleep, I had been reading a novel.
The title was [The Traces of a Melted Ice Flower].
It was a sort-of-romance about a cold male protagonist and a sunny, radiant female lead.
A friend had recommended it and even paid me to read it.
To explain that friend—well, they were someone I met online.
They replied instantly no matter the time, spoke like they knew everything, kept an odd emotional distance, and sometimes muttered strange things like, “Humans are so…”
They were weird, no doubt about it—but you meet plenty of weirdos online, so I let it slide.
Anyway, I started reading the novel’s synopsis carefully.
“Ugh!”
The male lead’s keywords were: aloof, prickly, cold, full of regret.
‘Did I do something wrong…?’
Did I maybe insult them in my sleep? Like, “Are you unemployed or something? How are you always online?” I checked my chat history—nope, no such rude comment.
I had always been a cheerleader for sweet, gentle guys.
‘Did they recommend this just to mess with me…?’
I gave it some serious thought.
‘…No way. Right?’
Still, I calmed myself and began reading.
Or tried to.
“Nope! This is too much!”
Was this some kind of low-blood-pressure cure? I felt my blood boil.
The male lead was absolute garbage. Not just any trash—he was the toxic kind that can’t even be burned or recycled.
He was constantly threatened by assassins, or away on dangerous campaigns. The female lead struggled to protect him and grew stronger in the process.
But none of that mattered. He was a tyrant—unredeemable trash.
“That damn bastard.”
Before I knew it, I was shouting at him non-stop, and crying into my pillow over how kind and lovable the female lead was.
[“I cannot trust the love you speak of. So try harder to convince me.”]
The only frustrating part of the novel was the male lead. Well, and maybe the author?
They seemed oddly sympathetic to him, and never gave satisfying answers about his mysterious past.
“Just confess and get obsessed already, you failure!”
Let’s see… he ruined confessions between the heroine and others, looked down on servants, plotted murder against side characters, destroyed the mage’s tower when she tried to leave, got cursed by a sage, got support from cultists…
Believe it or not, all of that was done by the male lead, not the villain.
[His black cloak fluttered with every step, trailing a scent of blood. The corridor stained with crimson footprints was a perfect reflection of his life…]
“Aaargh! That’s enough for today.”
I’d had more than enough bitter frustration.
‘My throat is dry.’
Instead of hoping the author would throw me a bone, I decided to rest and recharge.
But when I closed my eyes, the scenes I’d just read kept haunting me, until I kicked my blanket in frustration.
“How miserable do you have to be to act like that?!”
If the author heard me, they’d probably burst into tears and cover their male lead’s ears.
Even as sleep consumed me, I cursed his horrible personality like a spell for eternal youth, sneaking in a few insults toward the author for good measure.
Just before I completely lost consciousness, I heard something like wind—or maybe a whisper—drift into my ear.
“How dare you…”
I poked my ear with my pinky, wondering if I imagined it.
But no change.
It wasn’t a hallucination. I could clearly hear someone next to me.
“Just once…”
The voice didn’t fade away.
‘A ghost?’
Terrified, I yanked the blanket over my head and squeezed my eyes shut.
Like sinking into water, I felt my body go heavy as I finally fell asleep.
***
And so, here I was.
“Miss!”
The woman shook the limp body like a rag doll, no mercy.
The very body I had just possessed dangled before me.
“Lady Armel! Uwaaah…!”
She sobbed uncontrollably.
Her voice pierced my ears, slowly bringing my hazy mind back.
“Breathe! Please, Miss!”
“……”
“Uwaaaah! Please, Miss!”
Just then, the limp body in her arms twitched.
Was her nervous system dead? The servant didn’t notice and kept crying.
“Hup!”
Then the girl—Armel—gasped and started coughing as her eyes fluttered open.
Maybe necromancy was her hobby.
“Uwaaaah. Lady Armel…”
“Mmm. You were scared, huh? Sorry.”
A grown woman sobbing and being comforted by a child who had only just regained consciousness—it was absurd.
Wait.
‘Silver-blonde hair with a golden sheen, purple eyes, a beauty mark… that name…’
The features and the name were familiar.
I was sure of it now—I’d possessed someone in the novel I had just read.
The girl gently consoling an adult servant was none other than the so-called villainess of the story.
‘Unbelievable.’
Armel Dispia.
The only daughter of Duke Dispia, with royal blood that gave her a pale golden hue to her hair.
Villainesses are supposed to plot and endanger the heroine, right?
But this girl had done nothing besides blame her own shortcomings, feel jealous of the heroine, and cling to the male lead.
Too cute to be a villain. Unless she stabbed him later in the story, the label didn’t make sense. And stabbing didn’t seem like her style.
‘I’ve made up my mind!’
I was going to make sure that trashy male lead had no place in this story.
People who transmigrate usually fall into two camps: those who preserve the original plot and those who change it.
In this case, I’d be firmly in the reformist camp, no matter what.
‘I don’t care if the plot gets derailed.’
As long as we got a happy ending somehow, maybe I’d be able to return.
Though if I could return right now, I’d take it in a heartbeat.
‘Down with the male lead! To hell with the traces of ice flowers!’
I clenched my fist, fully embracing my role as the transmigrated heroine.
But happiness never lasts long.
“Um… Armel?”
My burning resolve fizzled out instantly. The real problem started now.
I had failed to possess her.
“Armel!”
Which meant… I was nothing more than a formless spirit.
“Aaaah! Armel! Please look at me!”
Unfortunately, Armel didn’t seem to have the ability to communicate with spirits.
I wanted to cry.
