The Villainess Knows Your Secret

The bells of Velmora rang thirteen times that morning.

A bad omen, some whispered.

A fitting farewell, others claimed.

But to the thousands gathered before the royal palace, it was simply the day the kingdom would finally be rid of its greatest villainess.

“Monster!”

“May the gods never forgive you!”

“Murderer!”

The accusations rose from the crowd like a prayer, each voice eager to condemn the woman standing upon the execution platform.

Lady Evelyne Virell listened in silence.

Her black dress was torn at the hem, her wrists bound in silver restraints. Rain clung to her dark hair, and a thin smile rested upon her lips, utterly at odds with the fury surrounding her.

She looked less like a woman awaiting her death and more like someone who had arrived at an appointment she never intended to keep.

“Any last words, Lady Virell?” the royal executioner asked.

Evelyne lifted her gaze toward the palace balcony.

There stood Duke Cassian Thorne, dressed in immaculate black, his silver hair untouched by the rain. He had been the one to deliver the final verdict. The one who had declared her guilty. The one who had never once looked her in the eye throughout the trial.

Their gazes met.

For the briefest moment, something flickered across his crimson eyes.

Regret, perhaps.

Or amusement.

Evelyne would never know.

“Last words?” she repeated softly. “How generous of you to offer me a choice now.”

A few people in the crowd scoffed.

She ignored them.

“If the truth were enough to save an innocent woman, I would have been free three days ago.”

Her eyes returned to Cassian.

“But you need a villain, Your Grace. And this kingdom has never been particularly fond of looking for the truth.”

The bells rang again.

Evelyne closed her eyes.

“May you all live long enough to regret this.”

And then, the world went dark.

⸻

“WHAT WAS THAT ENDING?!”

A book slammed shut.

Aria stared at the cover of Midnight in the Garden of Glass, her expression one of genuine personal betrayal.

“I’m sorry, but WHAT was the author thinking?”

She sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by crumpled snack wrappers and enough pillows to suggest she had no intention of being productive for the rest of the evening.

“Evelyne was literally the only person in that entire kingdom with a functioning brain. Everyone else was just a puppet with expensive clothes!”

She reopened the book and flipped through several pages, searching for something that might justify the ending.

Nothing.

Not a single satisfying explanation.

The Crown Princess got her happy ending. The supposedly innocent heroine got everything she wanted. The Duke of Thorne remained the kingdom’s celebrated hero.

And Evelyne?

Evelyne got executed.

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” Aria pressed the book against her chest, glaring at the ceiling. “Give the most interesting character the worst ending and call it literature. Genius.”

She paused.

Then she glanced at the cover again.

Midnight in the Garden of Glass.

MIGG.

Even the title sounded like a warning.

“Honestly, if I were Evelyne, I’d haunt every single one of them.”

A yawn interrupted her outrage.

Aria checked the time, muttered something about never trusting fictional authors again, and placed the book on her bedside table.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would find something better to read.

Within minutes, sleep claimed her.

⸻

“…My lady?”

Aria frowned.

Someone was speaking.

“…My lady? Can you hear me?”

She pulled the blanket over her head.

Five more minutes.

“MY LADY!”

Aria jolted upright.

“WHAT?!”

Silence.

Three women stood beside her bed, dressed in elaborate gowns and white aprons. One held a silver tray. Another looked moments away from bursting into tears.

The third crossed herself.

“Thank the heavens,” she whispered. “Lady Evelyne, we feared you might never awaken.”

Aria blinked.

Once.

Twice.

She looked at the unfamiliar canopy above her, the enormous windows, the antique furniture, and the strange women staring at her as though she had just returned from the dead.

Then she looked down at her hands.

Pale fingers.

Delicate wrists.

A silver ring bearing a crest she recognized with horrifying clarity.

No.

Absolutely not.

Slowly, Aria turned toward the mirror across the room.

A beautiful young woman stared back at her, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders, her face pale with disbelief.

Aria knew that face.

She had seen it on the cover of a hundred fan edits.

She had read about it for three hundred chapters.

And yesterday, she had watched it meet its end.

Her lips parted.

“…Evelyne?”

The maid nearest her smiled with relief.

“Yes, my lady. Lady Evelyne Virell.”

Aria stopped breathing for a moment.

Then she grabbed the nearest pillow.

“Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.”