ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴᴇss ɪs ᴛʜᴇ sɪsᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀᴏɪɴᴇ

The world had always seemed black and white to Viola—heroes and villains, good and evil. She, by her own choices, had become the villain. Ambition, jealousy, and a hunger for more had consumed her, leading her to the guillotine. As the cold blade descended, her final thoughts were of profound regret: a desperate wish to go back, to be kind, to cherish her family, and to make them proud.

Then, a blinding light pierced her eyelids, and she gasped. The familiar, ornate ceiling of her childhood room came into view, followed by the shocking sight of her own small, 9-year-old hands. Her voice, when she spoke, was childish and unfamiliar. A glance in the mirror confirmed the impossible: she was nine again, the day her father first brought her to the Dukedom.

This was it. Her second chance. A knock on the door, and Lea, her loyal maid, entered, her warm smile a stark contrast to the despair of Viola's past. This time, things would be different.