Chapter 1
Sunshine Orphanage, Class for Three-Year-Olds.
Exactly 33 months old.
Lee Chaeri was wearing a yellow T-shirt with a duck printed on it.
Right in the middle of her chest, a duck was waving its little wing in greeting.
If that duck could actually talk, Chaeri would’ve happily answered it back.
Her pants were denim overalls — thin shoulder straps, slightly pleated cuffs, and faintly faded spots at the knees.
In her opinion, this outfit combo alone made the day a success.
“Chaeri. From now on, you have to listen well to your mom and dad, okay?”
“That’s basic protocol, Teacher Kim Myung-ja.”
Today was the day Chaeri would get parents.
“How’s your hair? Pretty, right?”
Thanks to veteran daycare teacher Kim Myung-ja’s skillful hands, Chaeri’s hair had been styled into two neat buns — pigtail buns tied up with ribbon clips.
Her soft, light pink hair glowed faintly even under the indoor lights; it was the kind of shade that drew attention without trying.
Ever since the emergence of “awakened” people, strange hair colors weren’t unusual anymore — but even so, this hue was rare and lovely.
Chaeri, like her hair color, was a special child.
She had started speaking clearly at 18 months, and now she could already read and write simple sentences.
She had broken every developmental record in the orphanage.
She’d even been the first to stop wearing diapers.
“Thank you, Teacher Kim Myung-ja.”
Chaeri’s tone was always crisp, exact — oddly formal for a toddler.
The contrast between her babyish looks and mature speech was both strange and endearing.
Kim Myung-ja gazed at her for a moment.
No matter how “mature” a three-year-old might be, they were still only three.
But Chaeri looked more like a fourth-grader — one who’d been elected class president more than once.
“You remember my phone number, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“If anything happens, you call me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And she really could.
Her tiny fingers handled her kids’ smartphone with skill.
A month ago, an anonymous donor had sent kids’ phones for every child in the orphanage.
At least, that’s what everyone thought — but Chaeri’s phone had actually been a personal gift from Kim Myung-ja, bought with her own money.
Chaeri hadn’t even needed a manual. She’d figured everything out herself, quicker than her teacher.
Still, Kim Myung-ja couldn’t shake her unease.
‘They’re good people… but still…’
The adoption paperwork was flawless.
The adoptive father was a doctor who’d even appeared on TV, and the mother was a homemaker — no criminal records, no blemishes.
To Kim, it wasn’t the father’s profession that mattered, but the fact that the mother would be home.
Children needed someone who could spend time with them.
And yet, something in her chest felt heavy.
She knew Chaeri would have a better life — and still, goodbyes never got easier.
“Don’t worry, Teacher Kim Myung-ja.”
Chaeri held her hand tight — small, warm.
“Lee Chaeri is smart.”
“Yes. Chaeri’s a good and clever girl.”
Her words always came out just so — clipped, precise. Ever since she’d gotten hooked on a military-themed variety show, she’d spoken in that blunt “da-na-kka” tone soldiers used.
Few three-year-olds in the country could pull that off flawlessly after watching just a few episodes.
“Teacher Kim Myung-ja. Let’s take a picture together.”
“Hm? A picture?”
Kim was surprised — Chaeri usually hated photos.
She’d always stand stiff and blank-faced in front of the camera.
But now, she’d asked first.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The genius of Sunshine Orphanage — Lee Chaeri — looked up suspiciously.
“Don’t tell me… you don’t know how to turn on selfie mode?”
“I do, I do!”
Flustered, Kim wiped her eyes and lifted her phone.
Chaeri hugged her arm with her tiny hands and gave a command:
“Cha-ryeong! (Take picture.)”
The clever kids’ phone understood the imperfect baby speech and obeyed.
Click!
“Cha-ryeong.”
Click!
“Cha-ryeong.”
Click!
“Cha-ryeong.”
Click!
The photos kept coming.
“Why are we taking so many?” Kim laughed.
“Lee Chaeri is still too little.”
“Huh?”
What did being little have to do with taking lots of pictures?
“If small, means forgets faces easy.”
A three-year-old’s memory doesn’t last long — not when it comes to people they love.
“No forget Teacher Kim Myung-ja face. Must backup lots.”
Kim wiped at her eyes again.
Chaeri silently pulled a tissue from the table and handed it to her.
“Not far, ma’am. Still Seoul. Don’t cry.”
“Thank you, Chaeri.”
She was such a curious child.
Mature beyond her years, sometimes even cynical — yet also tender in the most unexpected ways.
When work was exhausting, it was Chaeri’s calm, dry humor that grounded her.
And at times like this, her sweetness melted everything.
“Teacher, don’t forget Lee Chaeri either. For real.”
Chaeri held out her pinky finger.
A small and large finger linked — a quiet promise sealed.
The night before, when everyone was asleep.
Chaeri lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
‘Phew. This three-year-old body is rougher than I thought.’
Everyone said she was a genius, but the truth was, she wasn’t some prodigy.
People thought she was smart because she was possessed.
‘If I lose focus even for a second, I start acting like a real toddler again.’
Her short tongue was proof — her mind and body didn’t quite sync.
She had to ration her mental strength carefully, balancing intelligence and physical limits.
Over time, she’d learned to summon just enough awareness to act “smart” when needed.
The stiff “da-na-kka” military speech helped too — talking that way actually cost her less mental energy.
‘K-exam-student mindset never dies, huh.’
Before possession, her name had been Cha Seong-eun, a high school senior preparing for college entrance exams.
An orphaned girl living with her aunt and uncle, walking on eggshells in their house.
‘It was hell.’
At first, they’d been tolerable.
A bit of favoritism toward their own son, but bearable.
Then one summer, everything changed.
An accident at a mountain stream — Seong-eun nearly drowned, and her cousin Eun-seok died trying to save her.
After that day, her aunt’s eyes turned to ice.
“Because of you, my son died.”
Seong-eun never argued back.
The guilt was heavier than the hatred.
Then came the violence — and the hunger.
Bruises on her face became routine.
Whenever she needed to escape reality, she turned to web novels.
No money, no allowance, no part-time job — but plenty of time.
The “Wait-Free” feature on Kakao Page became her only refuge.
Sometimes, event rewards gave her a bit of cash to “own” an episode or two of her favorite story.
She didn’t read many; she read one over and over again — hundreds of times.
Its title: The Final Villain Was Human.
‘I just didn’t expect to end up inside it.’
Now she was living as Lee Chaeri — the villain of that very story.
In the novel, Chaeri wasn’t just any character — she was the final boss.
More presence than the protagonist, more story than anyone else.
‘Classic trope — reborn as the villain.’
Being an orphan again was disappointing, but it wasn’t all bad.
Thanks to Teacher Kim, she’d felt genuine warmth for the first time in her life.
‘That alone’s something to be grateful for.’
She sniffled.
‘The survival plan’s perfect.’
Tomorrow, she’d be adopted.
By a respectable couple — a doctor and his wife, who had struggled with infertility.
“Call us Mom and Dad, okay?”
After adoption, she’d actually been loved — for a while.
Enough to forget the ache of leaving Kim Myung-ja.
But that light didn’t last.
Exactly three months later:
“H-Honey… I’m pregnant.”
“Really? You’re pregnant?”
A miracle — a biological child.
Joy quickly turned to confusion, and confusion to regret.
“What about Chaeri?”
“If only we’d waited a few more months…”
They began to see adopting her as a mistake.
Still, they couldn’t return her.
So they rationalized it.
“It’s fine. The boy will need a big sister.”
“Chaeri’s a mature, gentle girl. She’ll take good care of him.”
As time passed, the wounds deepened.
Her adoptive father grew violent.
There were reasons — hidden ones that only readers of the novel knew — but that didn’t erase the pain.
One day, he beat her severely.
Later, he claimed he’d “lost consciousness,” and truly, he remembered nothing.
So the case was quietly buried.
The mother’s resentment turned not toward her husband — but toward Chaeri.
“We never should’ve brought you here.”
After fifteen years of silence, Chaeri finally spoke up.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
She even called the police.
They came.
And that was the day she was abandoned for good.
Labeled “the worst girl in the world.”
Her mother slapped her, and that was the beginning of the end — the day she became the final villain.
Now, that moment was about to begin again.
“Call us Mom and Dad.”
The couple stood before her.
Pink hair tied in buns, duck shirt, denim overalls — her reflection was perfect.
She bowed politely, like Teacher Kim had taught her.
“Yes, ma’am. Mother Kim Ha-seon, Father Lee Ji-seok. Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Chaeri.”
And silently, she vowed to herself:
I’m not the villain this time.
Right now, she was only three. Nothing bad had happened yet.
The story could still change.
Her plan was flawless.
…Or so she thought.
