Eris never expected anything unusual to happen that morning. She only stepped outside to grab a package she assumed was another boring video game delivery that didn’t meet her standards.But the moment she picked up the sleek, weighty box sitting perfectly centered on her doorstep, a strange chill rolled down her spine. There was no return address. No shipping label. Only her name, written in elegant strokes of ink—too deliberate, too intimate.

Inside was something she should not have been able to touch, let alone own:

a pristine VR cartridge for Eclipse Hearts, the game banned across the world.

Everyone knew the stories. The game was infamous for going beyond immersive—players suffered blackouts, nerve damage, crippling migraines, hallucinations, and in some whispered corners of the internet… death. All copies had been recalled, destroyed, erased. No one sane would keep one.

So how did hersexist?

And why… why was it sent to her?

Logic told her to call the police. Instinct told her to throw it away. But curiosity—sharp, hungry, reckless and her inner collector ways—told her to see for herself what made the game so dangerous. Eris already had a VR headset collecting dust. She justified it as research. As caution. As a one-time peek.

The game opened on a breathtaking world of light and flowers. Lush fields. Gentle breezes. NPCs whose eyes sparkled with unsettling realism. It felt safer than the rumors suggested—almost comforting. Almost normal.

Until the glitch.

The sky flickered like a heartbeat failing. A spike of pain ripped through her skull. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even scream before everything went dark.

When Eris opened her eyes again, she wasn’t in her bedroom.

She was lying on silk sheets in an extravagant canopy bed—one she recognized instantly.

Marie Margaret’s bed.

The infamous villainess.

The woman whose cruelty shaped every tragedy in *Eclipse Hearts*.

The character players were meant to kill.

Eris sat up, horrified, staring at hands that were not hers, hair cascading in rich waves the wrong color, and violet eyes staring back from a gilded mirror across the room. She had seen Marie Margaret countless times on-screen… but never like this. Never with her heart pounding inside this borrowed ribcage.

When she stumbled to her feet, a maid entered and asked if she needed anything. Eris opened her mouth to say she wasn’t Marie. To explain the mix-up. To claim this was all a mistake—

But the second she tried to lie, a searing pain tore through her stomach. Blood filled her mouth, hot and metallic. She choked, collapsing to the floor as crimson splattered across the polished tiles.

This wasn’t just a game mechanic.

It was a curse.

One Marie Margaret was rumored to have… but its true cause had never been revealed.

Now trapped in the villainess’s body, unable to lie without bleeding, Eris must survive political schemes, dangerous romances, and the cold, enigmatic male lead who watches her too closely—as though he knows she doesn’t belong here.

Someone sent her this game.

Someone put her in Marie’s place.

And in a world built on deception, the villainess is the only one who suffers for telling the truth.

Eris wasn’t expecting anything that morning. The sun had barely risen, painting her apartment hallway in pale gold as she shuffled toward the door in mismatched socks. She was half-asleep, mentally preparing for a quiet day off, when her foot bumped something solid directly outside her door.

A box.

Neat. Unmarked. And placed so precisely it almost seemed staged.

She frowned. Nothing about it looked like a normal delivery—no tape seams, no labels, no barcodes. Just a black lacquered surface that reflected the hallway lights like a polished mirror. Carefully, she crouched down and lifted it. The weight surprised her, dense and cold like metal left out during winter.

Then she saw it.

Her name.

Written in beautiful, flowing handwriting.

*Eris Delane.*

No address. No sender. Just her name, centered perfectly as though whoever left it had all the time in the world.

A sharp prickle crawled up her spine.

“Did someone… prank me?” she murmured, carrying it inside.

She set the mysterious package on her kitchen table and hesitated. Rational thoughts told her to leave it alone. But as she slid a fingernail under the lid, a strange anticipation tugged at her curiosity.

The lid lifted smoothly.

Inside rested a VR cartridge—sleek silver, immaculate, almost glowing under her kitchen lights. She recognized the logo instantly.

*ECLIPSE HEARTS.*

The banned game.

The digital ghost of horror stories across the internet.

Her heart stumbled. She hadn’t heard the title spoken aloud in months, yet the moment she read it, the forum rumors flooded her memory—players collapsing mid-game, waking up screaming, shaking violently, complaining of shadows following them even after removing their headsets. Officials claimed it was an “overactive imagination mixed with a technical defect.”

But players swore something inside the game was wrong. Dangerous. Alive.

Eris should have thrown the cartridge away.

Instead, her trembling fingers lifted it gently from its velvet-lined slot. The surface hummed faintly with warmth.

“How… do you exist?” she whispered.

Her VR headset sat untouched on her desk across the room, a relic of hobbies she abandoned once adulthood swallowed her free time. Now it looked almost expectant.

She told herself she was only curious. That she owed it to herself to check. To confirm the rumors were exaggerated.

After all… who else had been chosen to receive this?

Eris slid the cartridge into the headset. It clicked softly, almost like the sound of a door locking.

The world loaded instantly—a burst of radiant color and soft music, a paradise of blooming meadows and pastel skies. Almost too perfect. Too gentle. She wandered through fields sparkling under a warm breeze, NPCs greeting her with uncanny sincerity.

“This doesn’t seem dangerous at all,” she muttered.

But then the sky flickered.

A single blink—like reality stuttering.

Her temples throbbed.

Another flicker.

Then pain exploded behind her eyes—sharp, electric, blinding.

She gasped, reaching for the headset, but her hands wouldn’t move. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears like war drums.

Her vision shattered.

---

Warm silk brushed against her cheek.

Eris jolted awake, gasping loudly, her breath ragged. She wasn’t lying on her rug. Or her bed. Or anywhere she recognized. Instead, she was surrounded by velvet curtains draped over a massive canopy bed, their deep purple fabric shimmering like liquid night.

This wasn’t her room.

No—this was—

Her gaze caught a mirror across the room.

She froze.

In its reflection was a girl with flawless dark skin, violet eyes filled with shock, and hair cascading in glossy curls across embroidered pillows.

A face she knew.

A face she had seen a hundred times on fan art, character screens, and lore videos.

**Marie Margaret.**

The villainess of *Eclipse Hearts*.

Before she could scream, a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Lady Marie? Are you awake?” a maid called gently. “His Highness requests your presence.”

Eris opened her mouth to insist she wasn’t Marie—

But the moment the lie formed on her tongue—

A violent, searing pain ripped through her chest. She lurched forward, choking as warm liquid surged up her throat. Blood dripped onto her hands, metallic and horrifying.

She collapsed to the floor, trembling.

What kind of game punished lying with *blood*?

What kind of world had she woken up in?

And who had delivered the cursed game to her door?

-

Warm blood dripped between Eris’s fingers, staining the rug beneath her. The metallic taste lingered on her tongue, sharp and nauseating. She forced herself to breathe, though each inhale felt like dragging glass into her lungs.

What kind of world did this to people?

What kind of curse punished a simple lie with *blood*?

“Lady Marie?” the maid called through the door again, her voice wavering. “Are you… alright?”

Eris wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand. Her mind raced. She couldn’t speak the truth—no one here would believe she wasn’t Marie. But she clearly couldn’t lie either.

She needed time. She needed silence.

She needed to survive.

“I—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard. “I need a moment.”

The maid paused.

“…Of course, my lady.”

Footsteps retreated down the hall, soft and hesitant. Eris sank back against the bedframe, breathing slowly until the burning subsided. Her heart hammered in her borrowed chest.

Marie Margaret.

She was Marie Margaret.

Eris forced herself to stand on shaking legs and approached the mirror again. The girl staring back was stunning, regal even—but her violet eyes trembled with disbelief. Eris reached up and touched the reflection, half-hoping it would ripple and reveal her real face beneath.

It didn’t.

Her surroundings looked exactly like she remembered from the game’s lore posts—the villainess’s infamous bedroom. The chandelier dripping with gems. The velvet canopy. The heavy, ornate furniture carved with serpents and roses.

This wasn’t an illusion.

This wasn’t a dream.

And she wasn’t logged into a VR interface anymore.

A soft chime echoed through the room.

Eris stiffened as the door creaked open without warning.

A tall man stepped inside, dressed in a black uniform trimmed with gold. His dark hair fell loose past his shoulders, and his amber-brown eyes locked onto her immediately—sharp, unblinking, assessing.

Cyril Ravehart.

The crown prince.

Marie Margaret’s fiancé. Well ex-fiancée.

And the man who executed her in every route of the game.

“Marie,” he said quietly, though his voice carried a dangerous undertone. “They said you were unwell.”

Eris’s breath caught.

He approached slowly, like a predator testing the distance before striking. When he reached her, he lowered his head slightly, peering into her face as though searching for something.

“You look… different,” he murmured.

Her stomach twisted.

She forced herself not to step back—not to flinch. His gaze dropped, and she realized too late that he noticed the faint smear of dried blood at the corner of her mouth.

“Were you injured?” His tone remained calm, but something cold flickered in his eyes. “Or is this one of your games?”

Eris shook her head too quickly. His brow arched.

“You know I dislike lies,” he said softly.

Her entire body froze.

If she lied—

She would bleed.

Violently.

Right in front of him.

“I…” Her throat tightened painfully as she thought of a safe answer. “I’m not feeling like myself today.”

That was true—horribly true. The curse didn’t react.

Cyril studied her for another long, chilling moment before he moved closer. Too close. He reached out and tilted her chin up with two fingers.

“Then I will accompany you,” he said decisively. “We have matters to discuss, and your… change in temperament concerns me.”

Panic flared in her chest.

He was dangerous.

And he was suspicious already.

She needed a plan.

She needed to learn how Marie acted, spoke, moved.

Or he would notice.

As Cyril straightened and offered his hand, Eris realized with dawning dread—

There was no escape button.

No logout.

No menu.

Only the story.

The story where Marie Margaret always died.