The Reincarnated Villainess Waits Patiently For The Afterstory

The school garden was a tapestry of vibrant blooms and hushed whispers, but for Lady Beatrix, it was merely a stage.
"Of course not," she murmured, her voice a silken thread against the shocked silence of her tea party companions. Her gaze, sharp and unwavering, was fixed on the two figures below: Prince Clovis, her betrothed, and the seemingly innocent heroine, Delia, locked in a passionate embrace.
Eleven years had passed since the innocent promises of childhood were broken, since she had gained the strange, foretelling memories. Now, the story she knew was reaching its climax, the "condemnation event" looming just ahead. Yet, Beatrix felt no surge of panic, only a quiet, resolute disappointment.
She stirred her tea, the delicate porcelain clinking softly. Every step, every move, had been calculated for this moment. This was not the end, but a carefully orchestrated beginning. The taste of betrayal was a bitter prelude to the sweet triumph she envisioned.
