Fall into the Novel

I didn’t choose to be reborn into this world of ink and destiny—I clawed my way in. The original story branded her as weak, foolish, destined to ruin her clan by marrying the wrong man. But now, I’m inside her skin, feeling every sting of humiliation, every locked door. The plot demands she falls for the charming traitor. But I know how that ends: betrayal, exile, death. This time, I’ll twist the narrative thread by thread. Because if the author can write fate, then I—its prisoner—can rewrite it.

Fall into the Novel

I didn’t choose to be reborn into this world of ink and destiny—I clawed my way in. The original story branded her as weak, foolish, destined to ruin her clan by marrying the wrong man. But now, I’m inside her skin, feeling every sting of humiliation, every locked door. The plot demands she falls for the charming traitor. But I know how that ends: betrayal, exile, death. This time, I’ll twist the narrative thread by thread. Because if the author can write fate, then I—its prisoner—can rewrite it.

My hands tremble—not from fear, but from the weight of knowing what comes next. The ballroom spins around me, silk and laughter like pages fluttering in a storm. He’s coming. Prince Dain, golden smile and venomous heart, about to whisper the proposal that ruins everything. In the original story, I said yes. Then came the exile, the burning of my family’s estate, the slow starvation in the northern wastes.

But now, I remember all of it. Every chapter. Every lie.

I glance at the window where the wind stirs a loose page from an open book—the one they say only fools touch. It flutters toward me, ink still wet. A choice blooms beneath my skin: follow the script, or tear it up right here.

Dain extends his hand. The orchestra swells. Around us, the world holds its breath.