Author’s Note before you start:

Hi hello, I'm Axi, just a quick note before you dive in~

This story is 100% my own brainchild. If it somehow is similar to another story then it's a coincidence, believe me my brain is full of stories I haven't written yet and know someone else would write it for me. Like this genuinely came from one random “what if…” moment that if I don't write it down then I'd start tweaking and regret for the rest of my life😭

‼️All the art covers and future character illustrations? Yup, are drawn and made by me, my hands suffered for this.

🚫No stealing, no claiming, no funny business please. Let’s all be civilized humans here.

No to AI (my pride says no), but I did use Grammarly because… grammar and I are sometimes enemies(and I did score higher in English subjects along with a teacher's advices so yes). We’re working on it.

Anyway, thank you so much for even considering reading this. If this somehow blows up… I might just feed you more chapters and chaos.

This story is about a noble girl receiving her modern past life memories and has to suffer knowing the unreliable future plot. she's a gen-z modern girl reincarnated into a cliche novel she doesn't even completely remember much about. Comedy? Yes. but I'm just an average writer so bare with me for poor creative scenes and writing, will rewrite when I'm professional enough so for now I'll just drop this here for a read.

Enjoy and mwah 💋

If someone told me I would end up living inside a noble fantasy world, I would’ve laughed and said, “Bro, go touch grass.” And yet, here I am.

Let me start from the beginning. Shall we?

I don’t remember much about my childhood in this world. It’s weird, right? Like I was just… there. Eating. Sleeping. Complaining. Being told to sit properly like some princess-in-training when I didn’t even ask to be born rich in the first place. Only from what people told me I used to be.

Lady Lioravelle Serentha Evyraen.

That's my name. Pretty long and unique right?

A fourteen year old elegant noble girl.

Daughter of Duke Ronan and Duchess Felisia.

The Perfect Puppet

Apparently, I used to be the

“perfect noble daughter.”

Polite smile. Proper posture. Soft voice. Never too loud. Never too much. The type of girl people praised but didn’t really see.

“Lady Lioravelle, posture,” they'd say.

“Yes, I understand,” I would reply, fixing my back immediately. Not because I wanted to, but because that’s what was expected.

“Lady Lioravelle, smile for the guests.” So I smiled. Even when my cheeks felt tired. Even when I didn’t feel like smiling at all.

“Such a graceful young lady,” they would say, and I would nod. “Thank you very much.”

That was it. That was my whole personality. How would I describe it? Boring. Like, really boring. The kind of boring that makes you question if my whole life is a story that was written just to go by. I even started thinking maybe I died in my past life and this was my punishment—

which, by the way, I wasn’t totally wrong about.

It was peaceful, but also… kind of empty. Like living in a room full of beautiful things but not knowing if they were yours.

Then I turned fifteen,

and everything broke.

It didn’t start dramatically—no lightning, no divine voice, no magical “chosen one” moment.

It started with a dream.

A really annoying one.

I saw a girl in a room.

A glowing rectangle in her hands. Hair messy. Eyes tired. Expression completely done with life. She said, “Why am I like this? I need to fix my life.” Then she ate something called instant noodles and the clock pointed at 2 AM like it was a ritual.

I stared at her. “…Who is that?” I whispered in the dream. Though I was extremely confused yet I felt everything around me was so strangely familiar...

And then she looked up... and then it hit me.

That was me.

My past life' me.

And I was like: “…Oh. So I really did die. Cool. That explains a lot actually.” No tears. No dramatic screaming. Just pure acceptance and a little bit of “what the hell is going on.”

Then the dream changed. Like my background suddenly shattered into glasses.

Everything started glitching like a broken video. Suddenly, I saw things I had never seen before but somehow knew.

A grand academy.

Nobles fighting with magic.

A man with dark desaturated purple hair standing alone in a garden. Blood. A curse. A countdown I couldn’t fully read.

A mysterious girl who's face was blur enough to be recognized.

And one name kept repeating in my head:

Kaelith Vo—***

I woke up gasping, sweating like I just ran for my life. Which, honestly, I kind of did mentally.

“...I need a life refund.”

The moment I said that, everything shattered.

I woke up falling off my bed.

"OW—WHY IS THE FLOOR PERSONAL TODAY?!”

A maid rushed in immediately. “My lady?!”

I sat up too fast, clutching my head.

“My brain just leaked information I was not ready for.”

“…Leaked?”

“Yes. There was a cutscene and everything.”

The maid stood there like she was trying to decide if this counted as a medical emergency.

And that was the first crack.

The worst part? After that dream, things started feeling wrong. Not scary wrong-- more like… familiar wrong. At first, it was small. I would pause during conversations, stare at things too long, or sometimes say things I didn’t fully understand.

“This situation feels… suspiciously scripted,” I muttered once.

My personal maid blinked. “Scripted?”

“…Ignore that.”

It was like I was reading a story I wasn’t supposed to remember. I started noticing names I shouldn’t know and events I somehow predicted. I realized I wasn’t just living; I was inside a story. A damn novel. At first, I denied it. No way I got reincarnated into some fantasy noble world like those cliché webnovels I used to read while ignoring my responsibilities. That would be insane. That would be—

“…Actually kinda funny,”

I admitted out loud once. Because yeah, it was exactly like that. So I did what any normal person would do:

I panicked. Internally.

Externally, I just kept acting like a normal noble girl who definitely had her life together.

Which I did NOT.

When the memories came back, they didn't come gently. It was like someone opened a floodgate and said “good luck.” I just sat there in bed like: “…Oh. So I was insane there too. Great. Multiverse of stress.”

My life went from

 “modern girl stressing about rent and internet bills”

to

“noble girl stressing about noble etiquette and life identity crisis 2.0.”

One morning, when a maid came in to announce breakfast, I nodded slowly and said,

“I am mentally unstable right now, but I will attend.”

She paused. “…Unstable?”

“Yeah. Loading. Please wait.”

She slowly backed out of the room, probably to report me later.

When I finally went to breakfast, everything felt too normal, which made it worse.

My mother sat at the head of the table.

“Liora, you look distracted.”;

'Liora' is what my so elegant parents always calls me, apparently my nickname.

I stared at my plate. “I am spiritually elsewhere.”

Silence.

My father looked up. “Explain.”

I thought for a second. “…My soul is doing updates.”

My mother blinked. “…Updates?”

“Yes. New patch.”

My maid dropped a spoon.

It only got worse- in the funniest way possible.

A servant dropped a tray, and while everyone gasped, I immediately said, “Skill issue.”

Silence.

My brain didn’t even register what I said until three seconds later. Then I went, “…Wait, no, I didn’t mean that out loud.”

The servant was so confused yet started crying as if they felt it as an insult. I panicked.

“I MEAN—YOU DID YOUR BEST THOUGH??”

Too late.

Damage done.

My maid whispered, “My lady… what does ‘skill issue’ mean?”

I sighed. “It means… unfortunate circumstances with extra judgment.”

She nodded slowly like she was translating ancient scripture.

During dinner, my father said, “Eat properly, Liora.”

“I am eating properly,” I said, stabbing a fruit. “This is my coping mechanism.”

“That is not a coping mechanism.”

“It is now.”

At some point, I blurted things I shouldn't have to-more or so about names I shouldn’t recognize, events I somehow guessed before they happened.

Like:

“The northern trade route will collapse soon,” I said randomly one day at dinner.

My father paused. “…Why would you say that?” I shrugged. “Vibes.”

It actually happened two weeks later. No one let me speak at dinner after that.

Even during etiquette lessons, I couldn't help it. “My lady, you must not refer to royal traditions as outdated systems.”

I blinked. “…But they kind of are, though.”

The tutor almost dropped their book.

“Not to be rude, my lady, though I do not know what you mean about ‘outdated systems’ but I know THEY ARE NOT.”

I leaned back. “Agree to disagree.”

My maid whispered, “Please stop disagreeing with teachers.”

I whispered back, “I physically cannot.”

My parents were genuinely concerned. “She speaks… differently now,” my mother said one night.

My father replied, “It is like she is the same person but… a bit crazy.”

I was standing outside the door again, pointing at myself. “…Rude, but accurate.”

That sums it up my whole year after receiving my modern memories like a update patch.

And then I turned sixteen.

A month after my birthday, that was when my life said "prologue finished. Onto chapter 1"

One day while I was having the best time of my life eating the delicacies I've never had in my whole life now in 2.0,

the worst cutscene came I expected to come but wished it didn't.

You know what it is? Guess!

Actually, don’t. I’ll tell you. It’s the one thing that can ruin your peaceful life faster than a "We need to talk" text from your ex.

'The Imperial Academy Letter'

And yes, this is where I'd desperately would ask for a life refund.

My name is Lioravelle Serentha Evyraen.

Yes, it’s long. Yes, it’s annoying to write. But I’ll admit... it sounds elegant. Solid 5/10.

Anyway, quick recap.

I lived my entire childhood as the perfect noble daughter of the respected duke and duchess of House Evyraen. Elegant, well-mannered, basically trained since birth to be “that ideal noble lady everyone approves of.”

And then everything went downhill when I turned fifteen. Great, as expected. There's always a plot twist for a beginner in life.

Because that’s when I started receiving memories from my past life.

Through a very weird, very overwhelming dream.

Turns out, I’m living inside a novel.

A novel I do not fully remember.

Great.

Amazing.

Unreliable memory.

Love that for me.

It feels like I still have to unlock my past memories bit by bit I assume.

Although from what I do remember, the story starts at an academy.

There are main characters. Magic. Action. Probably some sparkling romance thrown in for dramatic effect.

You know… the usual cliché setup.

Except here’s the problem. I don’t remember the actual plot. Like at all.

Just vibes. And the vibes are not peaceful.

This is not a “drink tea and live quietly” kind of story. This is more like-

stress, chaos, emotional damage, and possibly life-threatening situations.

Which is very concerning, because the last thing I remembered what I ever wanted to do since birth was to live peacefully as a rich noble girl and mind my own business while making my so serious parents proud.

But no.

Because ever since I regained my past life memories, I started acting like my old self again.

And let me tell you...

THAT version of me does NOT match noble expectations.

At all.

My behavior changed. My mindset changed.

And worst of all—

my etiquette skills?

Gone.

Zero.

Non-existent.

So now I’m stuck with:

unreliable future knowledge, a half-remembered plot, and the personality of someone who definitely should not be in high society.

And somehow I still have to survive the main story.

You know, the one filled with magic, violence, unnecessary romance drama, and whatever doom is waiting ahead. If I was being honest? I just wanted peace.

But instead, I got plot.

When I turned sixteen, I knew from then on that I know something was approaching me. And I feel it coming to me soon.

Of course, I was right.

My maid came into the dining room, with a letter in their hand that screamed 'Surprise it's your limited edition voucher trip to hell starter pack for reincarnation:)'

The Imperial Academy letter

Ah yes, I remember that specific word. Back when my brain was downloading its past-life archives, "The Imperial Academy" was flagged in bright red neon. If my life is a novel, and let's be real, It's most certainly really is. The production value of my current existential crisis suggests it is, then this letter is the inciting incident.

This is where the plot starts plotting and where my peaceful noble life starts crumbling.

Translation? "Attention: You have been forcefully invited to the Main Plot. Failure to participate will result in immediate social death and/or actual death. Please bring your own trauma; we’ve provided the fancy uniforms."

You know what I call it?

Imperial Academy letter\= invitation to Main plot of Doom and mental stress that could label you as crazy soon.

According to my history teacher years ago, which I am surprised I actually just remembered; it is the one thing every noble kid both excitingly and unfortunately gets when they turn sixteen and enters at seventeen.

My maid carefully placed it in front of me like it might explode.

Translation: “Good luck surviving politics, magic, and probably trauma.”

It arrived in the middle of lunch.

Golden seal.

Official crest. Dramatic as hell.

I stared at the golden seal. It was mocking me. I could feel it.

“…I don’t like how fancy this looks.”

“Open it, my lady,” she urged.

“I feel like opening it will ruin my life.”

“It’s your future academy acceptance letter.”

“That’s worse.”

"My lady..."

"It's a jump-scare in physical form" I replied, poking the envelope with a fork. "If I don't open it, the plot can't start, right? That’s how physics works?"

"Plot?" My maid asked in confusion.

"Yes, unfortunately"

My maid gave a heavy sigh of defeat.

And so I decided to face my problems;

I opened it.

Read it.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Because denial is a valid coping mechanism.

Is this even English? No, wait, we speak 'Imperial' here. Regardless, I’ve forgotten how to alphabet.

“You are hereby invited to attend the Imperial Academy—”

I dropped it on the table. Refusing to read it completely.

“Nope."

My mother looked up. “No?”

“I refuse.”

“You cannot refuse.”

“I can emotionally refuse.”

My father finally looked at me with the tone, “Lioravelle.” I know he's serious, why? Obviously he called my full name and that's a no good meant business(I'm scared)

I froze. “I said no.”

He sighed. “You will attend.”

I stared at him. “…This is how horror movies start, you know.”

No one laughed. Rude.

Looking at the letter, it felt ominous yet familiar. “…This looks like a legal threat,” I said.

“It is not.”

“It feels like one.”

My father narrowed his eyes. “Why do you sound like you are going to war?”

I replied immediately. “Because I am.”

That night, I sat by the window, looking at the letter. The world outside was calm, but my brain? Not calm at all.

“My lady?” my maid asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“You have changed a lot since last year...”

I leaned back. “…Yeah,” I said. “I think I got a software update nobody approved.”

"???..." Of course my maid didn't understand, judging from the look she's giving.

I stood up and looked at the mirror.

Same face. Same body. But inside?

A completely different voice screaming:

“WHY AM I IN A POLITICAL FANTASY DEATH ARC SIMULATION??”

I exhaled. “…Okay,” I said. “Let’s go see what kind of trauma this academy has prepared for me.” I pointed at the ceiling. “And I swear, if this is some ‘chosen one’ nonsense, I’m uninstalling life.”

Well that sounded cringe.

Status? Internally tweaking.