Minerva Ren Aureah Harrison Platta
I don't remember ever reading that name or seeing this character inside that stupid novel. I am sure as hell that there's no Minerva on that story.
Who the hell is Minerva Ren Aureah Harrison Platta? Daughter of some lowly barron who's life is none much better than a commoner? Among the nameless other characters in that book, why her? Just why on earth do I have to be inserted in this body?
I wouldn't even be indenial about this. I knew exactly what's happening. I've read an awful lot of this absurd plot and unoriginal predicament. I am trapped inside a book. And if my memory serves me right, I know which book this is. It's the one that I wrote, submitted in the publishing company where I am currently employed, which got rejected on the get-go for having a tragic ending so in the end, I decided to just throw in a fire while burning the dried leaves in my backyard.
I just don't understand that foolish editor of mine. Isn't it normal and rational that not all endings are supposed to be happy? I was actually being considerate and generous when I let the main characters survive their tribulations which I think is just the result of their own reckless decisions.
Well, to be honest, I'm not planning to be that 'considerate and generous'. It just so happen that they wouldn't even finish the first quarter of the story if I stayed in tune with my writing mood.
"Caroline, it's too much. Even for a tragic genre. You're putting too much trouble." draft 1 had this comment.
"Caroline, why don't you just kill everybody if you're going to be like this?" draft 2 goes like this.
"Do you even feel for your characters? Isn't enough that they didn't end up together? I bawled my eyes out for them." here goes my next draft edit.
and so the number of draft revision goes on ... I revised and revised until the number of days left until the final submission is just a finger count and yet my editor couldn't even finish it. She couldn't even flick a page without spouting how trashy the villainess is.
"Admit it, Caroline. You just hate them, don't you? You wrote too much conflict and they didn't even ended up together. I'm sorry, I can't accept it. It won't make it to the final cut. It's either you change the flow into a milder one and retain the tragic ending or change the ending into a happier tone. This is your first entry for the competition. I've been letting you write those sad stories for so long but this time, it's different. If you want to win, write in accordance to your readers' preference. Nobody likes a tragedy and everybody wants a happy ending. Conformity is a must in this industry. That's why you barely have any readers left. Most readers read as a form of escapism. Why do you think they would pick up a book that would just make them relive their traumas? I really am sorry, Caroline, I cannot accept your manuscript."
You're wrong, Mr. Baek. I like tragedy. I hate happy endings. It's not real. Even if it's fiction, I don't believe that they're really meant to be happy together. That's just... wishful thinking.
Anyway, so that's just it. I went home giving up the hope of entering the Annual Literary Heroes Competition and winning home the grand price. I'm not even that interested in publishing my work as a contender, much less the readers' preference neither being a literary hero or whatsoever. I just want the money. Because for me, the only happy ending is being rich and living a life of luxury until your last breathe. Anything outside that context is just a mere illusion made by those who refuse to accept that in reality, life is all about having money.
I am Caroline Vermilion. At 22, I've cut off ties with my so-called family and friends. I don't have a man or even a woman significant in my life. The only thing that holds value for my mere existence is money. Nothing more, nothing less.
I work as a writer because it's just the only thing that I can think of where I'm safe from socialization and the likes. I don't even have much vigor to live long. If I can die next year, or tomorrow or even later today, that would be much better. It's not that I think suicide is ideal. That's too much trouble.
So what does being transmigrated in here signifies for me? Do I get to be rich? Do I get to die in the earliest time possible?
I sure do hope so.
Well, I can actually make that happen. How? By making use of my knowledge as the writer of this stupid story, of course. If I'm lucky enough, I can achieve both. I just need to be... someone evil. Way worse than the actual villain here. That's all I have to do to achieve a fruitful stay and acclaim my two goals as one;
Die mad rich.
-
Rule of the thumb for those unfortunate enough to be transmigrated into a novel like me is to write down what we know about the story. Luckily for me, I don't have to do that because the manuscript I burned got transported with me.
So all I had to do is highlight the parts that I think would be useful and plan how to use those details in my advantage. So while working my ass to be mad rich, I can also try messing up with those stupid leads.
Come to think of it! That's a great idea! It's the easiest way to die!
The male lead in this story is the usual red flag regretful jerk with a sob-story past who's known for being a tyrant who unreasonably punish almost everybody who happens to be in their way. I can get him to kill me.
My, my. Who would ever guess that writing him that way can be useful to me at some point?
And that woeful wench can act her part and get me a verdict.
The villainess...hmm... how do I use her to my advantage? Oh right! I can scrap off her fortune and do the dirty works for her in order to get rid of that ignorant heroine.
Yes, that sounds like the plan. But first, I need to do my research about this body that I got into.