Not in some dramatic, heroic way.

No final words. No tragic music.

Just… gone.

And then—

I woke up.

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

Heavy.

Unfamiliar.

The second thing?

The dress.

“…What the hell am I wearing?”

My voice came out softer than expected, almost refined.

Not mine.

Definitely not mine.

Before I could process it, a murmur spread around me.

I looked up—

And froze.

A grand hall stretched endlessly before my eyes, bathed in golden sunlight pouring through towering windows. Marble floors. Silk curtains. Guards lined like statues.

And girls.

So many girls.

Nineteen of them.

All beautiful.

All dressed like they belonged in a royal selection.

My heartbeat slowed.

Not from calmness—

But from realization.

“No way…”

I knew this place.

I knew this scene.

This was the opening of a novel I once read.

A stupid, addictive, frustrating novel.

A royal selection.

Twenty women.

One emperor.

And a story filled with manipulation, rivalry…

…and death.

My fingers tightened slightly at my sides.

If I was here—

then that meant only one thing.

“I got reincarnated…”

Not into a peaceful world.

Not into a background character living a quiet life.

But into this.

A place where beauty was currency.

Where kindness was weakness.

And where being chosen—

was the most dangerous outcome of all.

A chill ran down my spine.

Because I remembered.

The girls around me?

Half of them wouldn’t make it.

Some would be discarded.

Some would be broken.

And some—

would disappear quietly.

“…I’m not doing this.”

I lowered my gaze, hiding the sharpness in my eyes.

One thought settled clearly in my mind.

Stay unnoticed.

Survive.

Leave.

That was the plan.

The hall suddenly fell silent.

The kind of silence that didn’t need to be announced.

The kind that arrived with someone.

And then—

he stepped in.

The emperor.

Daemon Valarr.

Tall.

Composed.

Untouchable.

He didn’t look like a man interested in marriage.

He looked like a man forced into something he already despised.

Cold eyes swept across the room.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Judging.

Every girl straightened.

Some trembled.

Some smiled nervously.

Some tried too hard.

I did nothing.

I simply stood there.

Quiet.

Invisible.

Or at least—

I thought I was.

“Rise.”

His voice was low.

Calm.

Effortless authority.

I rose with the others, keeping my expression neutral.

Don’t stand out.

Don’t react.

Don’t exist.

“Your performances begin tomorrow at dawn.”

His tone carried no interest.

No curiosity.

No care.

Good.

That made things easier.

“Until then, you will remain under supervision within these walls.”

He turned.

Just like that.

Dismissed us without another glance.

Perfect.

I exhaled slowly.

“That was easier than I thought…”

“…Was it?”

My body went still.

That voice—

I didn’t move.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t react.

But I knew.

He had heard me.

A faint pause in his steps.

Barely noticeable.

But real.

“…Great.”

The next morning came faster than I wanted.

The hall felt different.

Colder.

Sharper.

Like a blade pressed against your throat.

One by one, names were called.

Each girl stepping forward.

Each trying to prove something.

Nobles displayed elegance.

Commoners showed skill.

Everyone showed desperation.

I showed nothing.

Until—

I almost laughed.

Lady Elara stood before the emperor.

Confident. Elegant. Perfect.

Too perfect.

Her words sounded rehearsed.

Her movements calculated.

Everything about her screamed:

“Pick me.”

And suddenly—

I couldn’t take it seriously.

I closed my eyes for a second.

Pressed my lips together.

Held it in.

Almost.

“An interesting reaction.”

My eyes opened slowly.

…No.

Out of all people—

He was looking at me.

The emperor’s gaze locked onto mine.

Cold.

Sharp.

Focused.

The entire hall went silent.

“Most would be trembling,” he said calmly. “You seem… entertained.”

Every girl turned to look at me.

Shock.

Annoyance.

Jealousy.

I ignored them.

Because right now—

only one person mattered.

“You haven’t spoken,” he continued. “Why are you here?”

There it was.

The moment.

The point where everything could go wrong.

I could lie.

Pretend.

Play along.

Or—

I could be honest.

I met his gaze.

Not boldly.

Not submissively.

Just… directly.

“Yeah,” I said simply.

“You can say that.”

A pause.

Then—

He smiled.

Not warm.

Not kind.

But real.

“Finally,” he murmured, leaning back slightly. “Someone who isn’t pretending.”

My stomach dropped.

That was not good.

Because in the story—

The moment he became interested in someone—

Their life stopped being theirs.

“Very well,” he said, voice turning cold again. “Let us see if your silence hides competence… or just arrogance.”

I didn’t respond.

But inside—

One thought echoed louder than anything else.

I messed up.

Because I had just broken my only rule.

I got noticed.

And in this world—

That was how you died.

The summons came sooner than expected.

“You. Come with me.”

A palace maid stood before me, her expression carefully neutral, though her eyes flickered with something else.

Curiosity.

Maybe even pity.

I didn’t ask questions.

Didn’t resist.

Just followed.

The corridors of the palace were quieter than the grand hall, but far more oppressive. Every step echoed softly against polished stone, every turn guarded by silent soldiers.

This wasn’t a place for mistakes.

“This way,” the maid said, stopping before a pair of tall, carved doors.

She pushed them open.

“Enter.”

And then she left.

…Of course she did.

I stepped inside.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a fireplace. Shadows stretched across the walls, dancing with the flicker of flames.

And there—

He was already there.

Seated.

Waiting.

Daemon Valarr.

He didn’t greet me.

Didn’t stand.

Didn’t even pretend to be welcoming.

His gaze lifted slowly from the glass in his hand.

Dark red wine.

Of course.

“So,” he said, voice low and calm. “You came.”

I raised a brow slightly.

“You called.”

Silence.

Then—

A faint shift.

Not quite amusement.

But close.

“Sit.”

Not a request.

I walked forward, unhurried, and took the seat across from him.

Not too close.

Not too far.

Careful.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The fire crackled softly.

The tension didn’t.

“You’re not nervous.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No,” I replied simply.

His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me more closely now.

“Everyone else is.”

“I’m not everyone else.”

There it was again.

That pause.

Dangerous.

He set his glass down with a soft click.

“You speak as if you don’t care about the outcome.”

“I don’t.”

The words came out easily.

Too easily.

Another mistake.

His gaze sharpened.

“Explain.”

I leaned back slightly, meeting his eyes without hesitation.

“Winning this competition doesn’t guarantee anything good.”

Silence.

Heavy.

For the first time—

his expression changed.

Just slightly.

Interest.

“And what,” he said slowly, “makes you think you understand the consequences better than the rest?”

Because I’ve already seen it.

But I couldn’t say that.

So I shrugged lightly.

“Common sense.”

A lie.

A weak one.

But he didn’t call it out.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, watching me like I was something… unfamiliar.

“Most people,” he said, “would be desperate to gain my favor.”

“Most people don’t know what they’re signing up for.”

His lips curved faintly.

Not a smile.

Something sharper.

“And you do?”

“Yes.”

This time—

I didn’t hesitate.

And that—

that was what did it.

The air shifted.

Not visibly.

Not loudly.

But I felt it.

His attention locked onto me completely now.

No distractions.

No boredom.

Just focus.

“Interesting.”

The word was quiet.

But it carried weight.

Too much weight.

I exhaled slowly.

Wrong move.

Wrong direction.

I needed to fix this.

“I’m not here to win,” I added calmly. “So you don’t need to worry about me.”

That should’ve ended it.

It should have made me irrelevant.

Forgettable.

Safe.

Instead—

It did the opposite.

A soft chuckle left his lips.

Low.

Dangerous.

“I wasn’t worried,” he said.

He leaned forward slightly.

“But now…”

His eyes met mine.

Cold.

Intent.

Unavoidable.

“I am curious.”

My stomach dropped.

No.

That was worse.

Far worse.

Because curiosity meant attention.

And attention—

in this place—

was a death sentence.

“You said you’re not here to win,” he continued. “Then tell me…”

A pause.

“Why are you here?”

The real answer?

Because I died.

Because I woke up in a story.

Because I’m trying to survive something you don’t even realize you’re part of.

But I couldn’t say any of that.

So instead—

I looked at him.

Steady.

Calm.

Careful.

“Wrong place,” I said quietly.

“Wrong time.”

Silence filled the room.

Then—

For the first time—

Daemon Valarr smiled.

Not faint.

Not restrained.

Real.

And that—

That was the most dangerous thing I had seen since coming here.

“Good,” he said softly.

My breath stilled.

Because something in his tone had changed.

Subtly.

But completely.

“Then try not to die.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Because that—

That didn’t sound like a warning.

It sounded like a challenge.

The moment I stepped out of his chamber—

I knew.

I had made a mistake.

The palace corridors felt colder than before.

Heavier.

Like something unseen had shifted.

“Miss.”

I stopped.

Slowly turned.

A maid stood behind me, head lowered.

But her voice…

too careful.

“The others have been informed,” she said softly. “Of your… private audience.”

Of course they had.

I almost laughed.

“Thank you,” I replied calmly, walking past her.

But inside—

Trouble.

The moment I entered the common hall—

Everything went quiet.

Not completely.

Just enough.

Whispers.

Eyes.

Judgment.

All directed at me.

“So,” a voice cut through the tension, sharp and smooth. “You’re the one.”

I didn’t need to look.

I already knew who it was.

Lady Elara.

Perfect posture.

Perfect smile.

Perfect hostility.

I turned slowly to face her.

She stepped closer, her blue gown brushing softly against the marble floor.

Up close—

her beauty was even more striking.

And her irritation—

even clearer.

“You were called first,” she continued, tilting her head slightly. “How… fortunate.”

Not a compliment.

“Timing,” I said simply.

Her eyes flickered.

Annoyed.

“I wonder,” she mused, circling me slightly, “what exactly you did to earn such attention.”

There it was.

The real question.

Not curiosity.

Suspicion.

The other girls watched silently.

Waiting.

I met her gaze, calm as ever.

“Nothing special.”

A lie.

And she knew it.

“Of course,” she said lightly. “Commoners often believe luck is enough to survive here.”

Ah.

There it was.

Status.

I didn’t react.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t care.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied.

For a moment—

her smile tightened.

Good.

But that was enough.

For now.

“Be careful,” she said softly, stepping back. “The emperor’s interest… doesn’t last long.”

No.

It didn’t.

But what came after—

was worse.

“I’m counting on that,” I said.

This time—

she didn’t smile.

The next test came sooner than expected.

“Outdoor trial,” a guard announced. “All participants, follow.”

We were led beyond the palace walls.

Into the forest.

The air changed instantly.

Cooler.

Sharper.

Real.

“This trial,” the guard continued, “will test your adaptability and survival.”

Great.

“Each of you will enter the forest alone. You have two hours. Return with proof of your capability.”

Weapons were handed out.

Simple ones.

Daggers.

Bows.

When one was offered to me—

I took the dagger.

Familiar.

Reliable.

“Begin.”

One by one—

we stepped into the forest.

And just like that—

we were alone.

I walked slowly at first.

Listening.

Observing.

The forest wasn’t silent.

Birds.

Wind.

Leaves.

But beneath it—

something else.

Wrong.

“…This wasn’t in the story.”

My grip tightened slightly around the dagger.

Because I remembered this trial.

It was supposed to be simple.

Basic survival.

Nothing more.

But this—

This felt different.

Then—

A sound.

Behind me.

I turned sharply—

Nothing.

Too quiet.

Too still.

“…Not good.”

I took a step back—

And the ground gave way.

My body dropped suddenly—

A trap.

I twisted mid-fall, bracing—

Pain shot through my side as I hit the ground hard.

“…Damn it.”

A pit.

Deep enough to injure.

Not deep enough to kill.

Intentional.

I looked up.

The opening was narrow.

Climbable.

If I had time.

But—

A shadow moved above.

Then—

A face appeared.

Lady Elara.

Of course.

She looked down at me, expression calm.

Too calm.

“You should watch where you step,” she said softly.

Not concern.

Confirmation.

“You set this,” I said flatly.

She didn’t deny it.

Instead—

she smiled.

“You were noticed,” she replied. “That makes you a problem.”

There it was.

No pretense.

No politeness.

Just truth.

“You won’t die,” she added lightly. “But you might fail.”

Footsteps.

She was leaving.

“Better luck next time.”

And just like that—

she was gone.

Silence returned.

I exhaled slowly.

“…So it starts.”

I looked up at the edge of the pit.

Measured the distance.

Calculated.

Pain in my side.

Limited time.

Unstable ground.

Not ideal.

But survivable.

I adjusted my grip on the dagger.

Drove it into the dirt wall.

Pulled myself up slightly.

Again.

Again.

Slow.

Controlled.

No panic.

Because panic—

gets you killed.

Halfway up—

the dirt shifted.

My hand slipped.

I fell back—

Hard.

Breath knocked out of me.

“…Tch.”

Time was running out.

And for the first time since arriving in this world—

I realized something.

This wasn’t just a game.

This wasn’t just survival.

This was war.

And I—

Had just become the first target.