Prologue
Deborah Seymour.
She was the only daughter of Duke Seymour, the powerful man who ruled the continent. Backed by her splendid status, she was infamous for her outrageous misdeeds. As the villainess Deborah appeared at the party, the once-cheerful atmosphere instantly turned cold.
'What's with that ridiculous makeup?'
'She's worse than the rumors.'
Lady Deborah perfectly embodied the image of a witch from a novel:
Sharp eyeliner, crimson lips, pale skin, and long, unadorned purple hair. If a witch who plunged the world into chaos ever existed, she would look exactly like this.
Her outfit was even more shocking. While other ladies dressed in pastel dresses adorned with corsages for spring, Deborah arrived in a dramatic gown that ignored the party's theme entirely.
Some noblewomen, unsure where to even begin criticizing her, hid their frozen expressions behind fans with quiet sighs.
What made it more bewildering was how well that eccentric look suited her. Like a deadly, beautiful mushroom, Deborah had an alluring quality that made her seem all the more like a witch.
Then it happened. Deborah took out a bright red fan and stood before Baron Marco.
Smack!
She struck his right cheek hard.
The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the hall. The baron's wig, which had clung to his head, fell pitifully to the floor.
"Gasp…"
"My goodness!"
The shocking scene made the faint-hearted ladies stumble. Baron Marco's face twisted from disbelief to humiliation.
"L-Lady Deborah, what was that for—"
"My hand slipped."
Without emotion, she answered, then raised her arm again and slapped his left cheek.
"This time, I sprained my wrist."
Her indifferent tone made the man's goaty mustache tremble.
"Wh-Why are you acting so violently, Lady Deborah?"
She curled her lips and replied,
"Your face is so greasy, my hand just slid. Clean it properly."
Deborah threw him a handkerchief and turned away coldly. It landed atop the wig on the floor. Silence followed.
'Good grief.'
'Who invited that terrifying woman?'
Everyone was stunned by her act, but no one dared scold her. She was the daughter of Duke Seymour, who could "bring down a flying bird." Fearing retaliation, everyone stayed quiet.
Just then, as if on cue, a waltz began to play. Uninvited to dance, Lady Deborah walked to the champagne table and began chugging glasses like a street thug.
After downing three glasses in a flash, she crossed her arms with a haughty expression, clearly rejecting interaction with the nobles present.
At last, unable to endure her behavior, the strict Lady Ripples approached. Organizing her thoughts for a proper warning, she walked over.
"Lady Deborah. I need a word," she said, elegantly opening her fan.
Deborah responded with a wave of her crimson fan. A grotesque image of two snakes biting each other unfolded before Lady Ripples' eyes.
'Disgusting…!'
She barely held back a scream.
Most ladies embroidered flowers or birds on their fans, but Deborah carried one with snakes. Then Lady Ripples recalled: the Seymour crest was a two-headed snake. Was this a warning not to mess with her?
"Please speak."
Deborah's voice was icy, enough to chill the eardrums.
"L-Lady… d-drinking too much is not good for you."
"…"
"I-I'm just worried about your health. You understand, don't you? E-Enjoy the party."
With that jumbled farewell, Lady Ripples stepped away.
'What the… she startled me for no reason.'
As soon as Lady Ripples disappeared, Deborah let out a sigh. Her hand gripping the fan was sweaty.
'I was scared for nothing.'
To suppress the tension rising in her throat, she downed another glass.
Truthfully, Deborah Seymour was rather timid. Or more precisely, Yoon Dohee, who had possessed Deborah's body, was timid.
'Don't shrink away. I won't live kindly like I used to.'
She bit her red lips.
'No guilt. That baron deserved even worse.'
Baron Marco had not only cheated on his maid but had also pushed his pregnant wife down the stairs, breaking her leg. Yet people, distracted by Deborah's shocking actions, wouldn't care about the truth.
'Good. Everything's going as planned.'
Judging from the whispers and glances, her fearsome reputation was well-maintained.
'I'll keep living as a villainess and enjoy every bit of it.'
No one must know I'm actually a softie. With renewed resolve, she clenched her fist tightly.
1. I'm about to reveal my darkest past.
How much of a pushover was I?
"Dohee-ya. I need 100,000 won right now. My aunt passed away suddenly. She took good care of me since I was little. I'm so sad. Right now."
"Oh no."
Up until the moment I died, I genuinely felt sorry for senior Hanjun, whose relatives seemed to die every single week. I was so blinded by him that I even believed those obvious lies.
"I'm really sorry, Dohee-ya. I'll pay you back as soon as I get the money."
After transferring the money to Kim Hanjun, I even added a comforting message.
So what if my bank account was empty? I liked him. I could save on food and coffee. My part-time paycheck was coming soon anyway.
Clinging to this delusional positivity, I lifted my heavy bag with the old laptop and entered the library next to the engineering building.
"Ugh, I'm so sleepy."
Just looking at the pile of assignments made me feel exhausted. I desperately wanted a sweet latte, but I didn't have money, and reality hit me hard.
With a slightly clearer mind, I did the math and realized Hanjun had borrowed nearly 500,000 won from me in the name of condolence money.
Can't he just pay me back a little sooner?
But I felt too guilty to rush him when he was supposedly mourning one tragedy after another.
Biting at my fingernails for no reason, I turned on my laptop.
"Guys, please send me your part of the research by today."
There was a group presentation this week, so I sent a message in the group chat.
The number beside the message kept decreasing, but no replies came.
"Dohee noona, sorry, I caught the flu."
"I have reservist training today. Can I send mine by tomorrow? Sorry."
Late replies were still better than none.
Some people just read and ignored.
I'd been through this so many times that I didn't feel anything anymore.
Tuition was expensive anyway, so I just convinced myself I was getting more education and organized the materials.
I worked late into the night and finally left the library because I was starving.
Dragging my tired body toward the convenience store, I suddenly stopped when I heard a familiar voice accompanied by the stench of cigarettes.
"Damn it, I said don't step on those, they're new."
Kim Hanjun, who should've been at a funeral right now, cursed while exhaling smoke.
The person he was talking to was the same senior who claimed to have military training today.
"Aren't those limited edition sneakers from N-brand? How did you get them? They sold out in a second."
"I barely got them through resell, so don't shove your pig feet near them."
"They're crazy expensive if you buy them resold. Where did you get the money?"
"I scammed someone."
When Hanjun proudly answered, I felt a ringing blow in the back of my head.
Scam. Scam. Scam. The two syllables echoed in my mind.
"Who the hell would give you money?"
"Yoon Dohee."
"Ah, Yoon Dohee."
The senior nodded like it all made sense.
Wow. Just hearing my name was enough for people to understand how much of a pushover I was.
"Lucky you're in the same group as her. But does she really give you money when you ask?"
"I just said I had to go to a funeral, and she believed it every time."
"Wow, Kim Hanjun. You're a real piece of shit."
"I'm not the bad one. Yoon Dohee's the idiot for falling for it just because I was a little nice to her."
I couldn't take it anymore.
Like a coward, I ran away from the scene instead of confronting him or asking for my money back.
I should've snatched those sneakers and stomped on them.
"Dohee-ya, I really like how kind you are."
His sweet, honey-drenched voice echoed endlessly in my mind.
Strangely, I didn't cry.
But my chest felt like it had been punched—hot and hollow.
"Dohee-ya, you're just in time. Do the dishes."
Dragging my trembling legs home, the first thing my mom did was point at the mountain of dishes in the sink.
My brother had eaten dinner, so why was the dishwashing automatically my job?
'But I'm hungry too…'
I weakly opened the fridge, which was of course empty, when I overheard a conversation between my mom and brother.
"Mom, can I get a private tutor? All my friends are getting one now for their early college entrance prep. I'm the only one just going to regular cram school."
"Okay. I'll look for a tutor."
Without hesitation, my mom replied.
I dropped the milk carton I was holding.
I felt nauseous.
These were the same people who used to scold me for even asking to buy a few online lectures, saying they were too expensive.
I had always believed we were desperately poor.
Dad was a lifetime middle manager, and there were three kids to raise.
But it wasn't about not having money—they just had zero interest in investing in me.
"Yoon Dohee! Where are you going? Did you do the dishes?"
Leaving the house without a word felt like the most rebellious thing I could do—
and that in itself was miserable.
I should've yelled.
Demanded to know why I was treated differently.
Did my silence make me invisible to them?
The resentment crashed over me like a wave, one beat too late.
I stood frozen by the roadside, sniffling.
"Miss, I need to get home but lost my transit card. Can you lend me 3,000 won? Please."
Wiping the wet corners of my eyes, I let out a hollow sigh.
Even now, someone's trying to take advantage of me again.
I think I've given this old woman bus fare at least three times already.
'Heck, I even walked her to the bus stop.'
Kim Hanjun took condolence money from me weekly, and this grandma took transit fare weekly.
Damn it.
They must've loved having such a perfect pushover.
'It's amazing how I only learned my lesson after being used so many times.'
At this point, even a homeless guy could recognize me as the ultimate sucker.
Just like Kim Hanjun said—
I wasn't "kind," I was "stupid."
"Dohee's such a sweet girl."
"I really like Dohee because she's so nice."
I should've realized those words actually meant:
"I love how easy it is to use Dohee."
Why do such important realizations always come right before you die?
"Miss! I said just 3,000 won!"
The old lady grabbed my arm and shouted.
It's true what they say—when kindness is constant, people treat it as their right.
Looking at this shameless grandma, anger surged inside me.
"I don't have a single won! Let go of me!"
"Then 2,000! Even 1,000!"
While I struggled with her near the road, an oncoming motorbike hit me straight on.
And just like that—I died, just as pathetically as I lived.
Then I reincarnated.
Into the body of a villainess…
Inside a twisted, 19+ reverse harem novel.