Livine Isadora De Vortigra epitomizes regal beauty as the sole princess of the Vortigra Kingdom, a realm that commands both land and sea. Her mesmerizing violet eyes captivate all who meet her gaze, while her long, flowing blonde hair cascades like a golden waterfall down her back. With a flawless complexion and a graceful demeanor, she embodies elegance and ethereal charm, the very image of perfection. As the only daughter of the king, Livine is pampered and spoiled, her name synonymous with royal splendor and unattainable beauty.
At least, that's how she is depicted in the novel. Now, looking at myself in the mirror, I see the beauty described, but I can't shake the feeling of confusion. What sins or mistakes have led me to inhabit Livine's body?
The last thing I remember before waking up in this body was a void—darkness with no recollection of my past life, my name, or any memories. All I have is the novel's plot and the undeniable fact that this is a fictional world.
Livine is me, yet the Livine of the novel is clearly not me. The dissonance is overwhelming. As I am lost in thought, a knock on the lavish chamber door jolts me back to reality.
"Come in," I say, even my voice feels foreign—soft yet firm, as if I had always spoken like this.
The door opens, and a maid enters, bowing deeply. I awkwardly attempt not to bow in return.
"Princess, the victory celebration will be held tomorrow evening. The king wishes me to inform you that you must attend and present yourself at the event." she says politely, her eyes never meeting mine. I clear my throat, trying to gather my thoughts.
"Very well." I reply. Then I step closer, feeling a surge of curiosity. "I have a question. I hope you can answer it."
The maid blinks in surprise at my sudden inquiry but nods in agreement. "Of course, Princess."
"You mentioned the victory celebration. Since I've just recovered from a long illness, I'm a bit confused about what exactly this victory banquet entails."
The maid hesitates, her expression reflecting a mix of surprise and concern. Nonetheless, she responds, "It's a celebration for the return of The Griffon Knights and the victory they achieved. Lord Carden Vissarion has secured the western border from the monsters."
A sudden, dizzying realization hits me. This chapter—the one where Carden returns after his success—means I'm late to the narrative. Rose's death has already occurred, and Carden must be deep into his revenge plans. Everything is falling into place, but the weight of this knowledge is overwhelming.
After the maid left, the sound of the heavy double doors closing echoed through the room, and I let out a weary sigh. I moved to a chair by the window, staring out at the view while trying to piece together the fragments of my memory.
Two months ago, I woke up in this very room, on a bed so grand it felt unreal, with a group of concerned maids hovering around me. They told me I had been struck with a high fever, a plague whose name I couldn't even recall. The shock of it all left me reeling, and it took some time for the reality to sink in—that I was no longer myself but rather inhabiting the body of Livine, an extra character from a novel.
"No, even if I had realized sooner, I couldn't have changed anything." I murmured to myself as the nagging thought of 'what if' crept in. I wondered if I could have somehow prevented Rose's death had I understood my situation earlier. But deep down, I knew the answer was no.
I didn't know the exact moment of her death. In the novel, it happens right at the start—chapter one, immediately after the prologue. It was hopeless from the beginning.
"Revenge of the Bloody Rose" is a story infamous for its tragic ending. Set in a fictional medieval world filled with intrigue and dark twists, the novel left its fans disgruntled with its sorrowful conclusion.
The male lead, Carden Vissarion, has lived a life of relentless hardship. Born to unknown parents and raised in the streets, he eventually rises to become a celebrated knight and hero. Yet, despite his heroism, his life is marred by constant struggle and sorrow.
The only light in Carden's life is Rose, his beloved wife. But in a story that revels in tragedy rather than romance, Rose is introduced only to be cruelly taken away. Her death early in the narrative sparks Carden's vengeful campaign against the kingdom, leading to his own tragic downfall.
And now, here I am, inexplicably thrust into this doomed narrative as Livine, the princess of the kingdom. My past life is nothing but a blur; the only things I remember are the plot of this cursed novel and the undeniable fact that I've somehow become part of it.
But why? Why have I been brought here, and what am I supposed to do? The questions swirl in my mind as I gaze out the window, the weight of my new reality pressing down on me. How am I supposed to change a fate that seems already written in blood?
Determined to piece together my fractured memories, I struggled to recall every detail. "Who am I?" I muttered, but the darkness of my past eluded me. I could sense bits of a modern world, a distant room, and the novel I had read, but nothing was clear.
"This is useless," I sighed. "I don't know my name or if I had a family. I don't even know if I had a life before this." Frustrated, I tried to refocus. "Let's think about the novel."
"Revenge of the Bloody Rose" centers on Carden Vissarion, the male lead whom I had once admired. I remembered my fascination with him and the many comments about the novel's tragic ending, but nothing could jog my memory about who I was.
"This is so frustrating," I mumbled, clutching my head. "Come on, think!"
The novel's plot revolves around a bloody journey against the royal family… "Wait, the royal family?" I gasped, touching my face. "Damn, I'm part of the royal family." A wave of dread washed over me. Carden harbors a deep grudge against the king—my father in this world—and my brother, Lazlo, the psychopathic crown prince. They are the true villains.
But what happened to Livine? Why couldn't I recall her fate?
The novel's most despised ending has Carden dying after exacting his revenge. The ridiculous part—he hangs himself in the end, feeling hollow after achieving his goals. His pain and loss become meaningless, leading to his tragic end.
"No, damn it!" I slammed my fist on the table, groaning in frustration. "Why did my favorite character have to die? He deserved a happy ending!" My protests were futile, and I knew that changing the story was impossible.
Then, an idea struck me. Maybe I was here for a reason. Perhaps I could alter his fate or change the plot.
I laughed at the thought. "No way," I said to myself. "This is stressing me out. My plan is simple: I need to survive and find a way out of this damn plot. It has to be better than being trapped in this gloomy novel, right?"
Even though I had lost my identity and wasn't sure about my past life, surviving and finding a way back to my real world seemed like a better option than remaining in this dark narrative.