It's been three days since I woke up in the body of Demonica del Griffanie, and in those three days? A lot has already happened.
There were reports about border tensions in the south, complaints from noble families about a recent grain tax hike, and even a minor protest from the merchant guild demanding revised trade policies. I mean, how was I supposed to know how to fix any of that? I barely passed my economics class back in college!
Thankfully, the emperor stepped in—cold and distant as always, but surprisingly efficient. With just a few words, he handled the southern troops and pacified the guild representatives. Still, it didn't change the fact that I was clearly not built for this empress gig.
"Y-Your Majesty… i-is something bothering you? You're pale…"
I blinked and looked up from my seat near the window, where I'd been sipping bitter palace coffee in a daze. The voice belonged to one of the palace maids—a timid-looking girl with neatly braided hair tucked under a lace headpiece. From what I've learned, palace maids are chosen not just for their appearance or manners, but for their unwavering loyalty and silence. They're trained to follow orders precisely and speak only when spoken to.
Which is why her concern caught me off guard.
Yes, I was pale—because I've been mentally spiraling ever since I got here! But of course, I couldn't just say that.
So I did what any emotionally constipated villainess would do: I forced a soft smile.
"I'm fine," I replied.
Apparently, that was the wrong move. Her eyes widened slightly, and she flinched—as if my smile had sent a chill down her spine.
Great. Now I'm accidentally cosplaying as a horror movie character.
But I wonder… what should I do to survive in this world?
I mean, I know nothing about politics. I wasn't exactly student council material back in my real life—I could barely survive finals week without crying over instant noodles. And now I'm expected to lead an empire? With enemies lurking in every corner, a husband who probably hates me, and nobles who look at me like I'm one wrong move away from being overthrown?
Yeah. Not ideal.
But then—
"Ahaha!" I actually snapped when an idea clicked in my head.
I'll just do what all those web novel heroines did! You know, the ones who got transmigrated into villainesses but still managed to survive—or better yet, thrive.
They always start the same: a second chance, a ruthless character arc, and a killer wardrobe.
A smirk tugged at my lips.
I'll give this villainess a redemption arc she never asked for.
If I were the main character in some kind of novel, the readers would totally hate me.
I mean, let's be real—some readers want the transmigrated person to be a full-on villainess. A girl boss. Savage, smart, emotionally untouchable, probably sipping tea while plotting ten steps ahead of everyone.
Well… sorry.
Not everyone is born a strategic genius with a royal poker face. I'm just a regular girl who used to cry over drama finales and forgot passwords every two days. So no, I'm not that kind of female lead.
And honestly? I'm just trying not to die.
That's what i thought...
"Your Highness, His Majesty wishes to speak wi
th you," the royal attendant said with a bow
No way.