Naviah Mendoza had never believed in fate. She believed in hard work, in intelligence, in knowing the right people and saying the right things. Fate was for fools who expected life to fall into place without effort. And yet, as she stood in the gleaming elevator of her office building, watching the numbers tick upward, she couldn't ignore the feeling that something was about to change.
It was an ordinary Monday morning. She had woken up at precisely six, brewed herself a strong cup of coffee, dressed in a crisp blazer, and left her small but comfortable apartment. As always, she arrived at work early, her heels clicking against the polished floors of the high-rise building where she was employed as the executive secretary to one of the most influential CEOs in the country.
Naviah was respected, feared, and, most importantly, indispensable. Her colleagues whispered behind her back, calling her a villainess, but none dared to confront her. After all, the boss valued her above anyone else. And in the corporate world, power was dictated not by kindness but by competence.
She exhaled, adjusting the sleeves of her blazer. The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to an empty hallway. Except, something was wrong.
The office floor should have been bustling with the early morning rush, filled with the murmurs of conversations, the distant hum of printers, the ringing of phones. Instead, silence stretched before her like an abyss.
A chill crawled down her spine.
The moment she stepped forward, the world around her wavered. One blink, and the fluorescent lights flickered. Another, and the entire hallway melted away.
Then—darkness.
When Naviah woke up, she was no longer in her office. The first thing she noticed was the softness of the sheets beneath her. The scent of fresh jasmine filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of expensive perfume. The room was too large, too lavish, too unfamiliar.
She bolted upright.
The mirror across from her bed revealed an unsettling truth. The woman staring back at her was her, but also... not her.
Her reflection was strikingly similar long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, sharp eyes that held intelligence and calculation. But her clothes were different, an elegant silk nightgown in place of her usual corporate attire. And the room; gold-trimmed furniture, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling was far too extravagant.
Panic surged in her chest. This wasn't her apartment. This wasn't her world.
A knock at the door startled her. Before she could respond, the door swung open, revealing a woman in a crisp maid's uniform.
"You're awake, Miss Via."
The name sent a shiver through her.
Via.
Why did that name feel oddly familiar?
A dull ache pulsed in her temples, and then memories, fragmented and scattered, rushed forward.
She had heard that name before. Via Shin. It was from a drama, a drama she used to watch every Saturday while folding her laundry or eating takeout. A guilty pleasure she had never admitted to anyone. She had even read bits of the novel version when she had free time, enjoying the web of lies, power struggles, and the tragic fate of the villainess.
And yet, despite knowing the character, she had never paid much attention to Via herself. The villainess was a side character, a woman whose life was marred by deception and betrayal, eventually leading to her death.
Her death.
Naviah's breath hitched. That's right. Via had been murdered.
The realization sent her pulse racing. The world around her felt too real, too tangible. Was this a dream? A hallucination? No matter how much she tried to deny it, the weight of the silk against her skin, the scent of jasmine in the air, the worried gaze of the maid, they were all real.
Memories that weren't hers continued to surface. A powerful family. A life of wealth and privilege, but also deception. A stepmother who played the role of a gentle matron in public but ruled with manipulation behind closed doors. A stepbrother who never fully accepted her, a half-sister who saw her as competition, a younger half-brother still too young to understand the power games surrounding him. And above all, a death.
Her death.
Someone had murdered Via Shin. And now, Naviah was in her body.
She gripped the sheets, struggling to steady her breath. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a joke. She had transmigrated into a world where power dictated everything, and trust was a fool's gamble.
The maid approached, setting a silver tray down on the nightstand. "The doctor said you had a terrible accident, Miss. You collapsed, but thankfully, you woke up."
An accident. Was that the lie they had spun?
Naviah's mind raced. If she had died before, then her murderer had failed to ensure the job was finished. And if they suspected she had returned with her memories intact... they would try again.
She had no time for fear.
Lifting her chin, she let her expression settle into one of practiced calm. "How long was I unconscious?"
"Two days, Miss."
Two days. That meant whoever had wanted Via dead must have assumed they had succeeded. But now that she was alive, there would be suspicion.
She needed to act quickly.
The maid hesitated. "Shall I inform the Master that you're awake?"
Naviah—no, Via—knew what she had to do. She couldn't let them see any weakness. If she wanted to survive in this world, she had to play the role of the villainess.
She smiled coldly. "No need. I'll inform him myself."
The game had begun.
•••
To be continued...
© All Rights Reserved.