Everything went exactly as it should have.....
Celine sat by the window of her dormitory room, fingers delicately curled around a porcelain teacup. Outside, the academy grounds glowed in the amber light of evening, students moving freely again, their voices light. The tension had dissolved.
She smiled faintly at her reflection in the glass. Not a triumphant smile, that would be vulgar. This one was softer, tinged with exhaustion and relief. The smile of a girl who had endured something unfair and survived it.
"This is the face they trust." she scoffed smugly.
They had believed her.
Belief was never about evidence. It was about narrative. And she had given them a story they could swallow easily.
Aurelia had been perfect for the role.
"Too disciplined. Too rigid. Too honest."
Celine's gaze softened, as if remembering something fondly. In truth, her thoughts were sharp and unkind.
"Really," she continued inwardly, "who walks through a court like a battlefield and expects affection?" a slight chuckle slipped through her mouth.
Her fingers tightened around the teacup.
For a moment, the present blurred. And memory pulled her under.
She had woken up screaming. Not because of pain, but because of recognition.
A ceiling she did not own. A body that felt small and soft. Her chest felt heavier and bigger. Hands felt like they were not hers.
When she had stumbled to the mirror, heart racing, she had already known what she would see.
Violet eyes, Ash-gray hair. Tempting curves.
A face she had seen countless times.
"No," she had whispered then, voice trembling. "No, no, no, no!"
"Celine." The villainess.
The rich merchant's daughter who schemed, lied, and lost everything.
She remembered the game perfectly. The betrayal routes. The false accusations. The public downfall. The expulsion from the kingdom. The ending slide where Celine wandered a foreign land in rags, alone and forgotten.
"I die poor," she had thought numbly.
Fear had swallowed her whole.
For days, she had barely eaten. Barely slept. Every interaction felt like a ticking clock. Every smile from another student felt like mockery.
"I know how this ends," she had thought desperately. "I know exactly how I ruin myself."
And then, slowly, another realization had crept in.
She knew everything else too!
Every flag. Every choice. Every hidden affection meter.
"The game wasn't unfair," she realized one night, lying awake in the dark.
"It was predictable."
Her breathing had steadied then.
"If I know the routes… if I know the triggers…"
Her fear began to change shape.
"The villainess only loses because she plays blindly...."
Celine had sat up, heart pounding, not with terror now, but excitement.
"I don't have to follow the script! I will carve my own path!"
The original Celine had been reckless. Obvious. Cruel in ways that invited punishment.
"But I'm not her," she thought, lips curling faintly even then. "I'm better."
The next morning, she practiced smiling in the mirror.
Not seductive. Not arrogant.Just fragile enough.
"Survival comes first." She decided.
The memory faded....
Celine exhaled softly and returned to the present, the teacup still warm in her hands.
"I didn't change the rules," she told herself calmly. "I just learned how to play them better."
She remembered the first weeks after arriving at the academy. The way eyes had followed her, curious but distant. Beautiful face, voluptuous body, Merchant's daughter. She had seen the interest in their gazes immediately.
"I had to become indispensable before they could dismiss me."
So she listened. She praised. She sympathized. She let people talk themselves into attachment.
With Aurelia, she had been especially careful.
"You're amazing," she had told her once, voice bright with admiration. "I could never be as strong as you."
And Aurelia, foolish girl, had accepted it at face value.
She never contradicted Aurelia publicly. Never challenged her authority. Instead, she framed it.
"Oh, Lady Aurelia is very strict," she would say gently. "But only because she cares so deeply."
Concern was poison wrapped in silk. It planted doubt without resistance.
Lucas had been predictable.
"He's a prince," she thought idly. "Which means he's used to obedience and awe."
Aurelia treated him like a fellow soldier, an equal bound by duty. Celine treated him like a hero from a story.
"Men don't want equals. They want to feel needed." she said smirking.
Andrew had been more amusing.
"He thinks intelligence makes him superior."
All she had done was feed his ego. She used to frequently ask questions.
"Oh… I hadn't thought of it that way," she would murmur. "Do you really think Lady Aurelia meant that?"
He had filled in the rest himself.
"The smartest men," she decided, "are always the easiest."
Clarke had been effortless. Laughter was his weakness. He hated tension, hated choosing sides. All she had needed to do was look hurt, just briefly.
"No one ever wants to believe the smiling girl is lying."
Celine set the teacup down, porcelain clicking softly against the table. The courtyard scene replayed in her mind. Shadow magic trembling at her feet, carefully restrained. Tears held back, never falling. Her voice unsteady, but not hysterical.
"I never wanted this," she had said.
And Aurelia had stood there, silent. Spine straight. Eyes sharp.
"That !" Celine thought, satisfaction curling in her chest, "...was when you lost."
People didn't want explanations. They wanted resolution. And the bell ringing had sealed it.
Aurelia's story wouldn't end today. That required some time. But the outcome was inevitable now.
"A few days at most."
Aurelia would lose everything.
Her engagement, Her reputation, Her future.
"The villainess ending. The Bad ending" Celine thought with a quiet thrill.
She leaned back, satisfaction blooming warm and heavy in her chest.
"No exile. No poverty."
"The best ending," she said smiling. " for me of course"
She rose and stepped before the mirror, adjusting her uniform. It fit her perfectly, tailored to flatter her curves without appearing improper. She left her top button open, enough to draw an eye.
"A Woman's power," she reflected, "is being desired and pitied at the same time."
In the reflection, she saw a survivor. A winner.
And yet…
Her brows knit faintly.
She remembered something. Something she couldn't see properly, as she was surrounded by everyone.
After the bell rang, someone came to talk to Aurelia. Despite everything that had happened.
A boy's face surfaced uninvited. Forgettable. One of those background students who existed only to fill space.
"He spoke to Aurelia."
Celine's fingers curled against the mirror.
"Irrelevant," she decided immediately. "He has no route. No influence. No significance."
Still, the thought lingered.
Shadows gathered obediently at her feet as the last light faded from the room.
"Let Aurelia struggle. Let her burn."
"Whereas, I.... will shine," Celine thought.
"I always have."