How Do You Do, Sire?

I had promised myself that from now on, I would live properly—not just as Aerin, but as me.

I wasn't just doing this to fix Aerin's reputation. No, this was for my own sake. The changes I wanted weren't just about how others saw me but about the kind of life I wanted to live. Building relationships, for example—not necessarily being overly kind (let's be real, I still have my moments of irritation and, well... psycho tendencies), but at least becoming someone who wasn't feared or hated outright.

In fact, I had already made a list of things I needed to accomplish. At the very top was mending my relationship with my father and the people in the dukedom. And right beneath that, a very close second—getting a boyfriend and, well… finally losing my virginity.

Yes, finally. Because let's be real—I was tragically, miserably, and pathetically a virgin in my past life too. And you know what's worse? I was a romance writer. An R-18 romance writer.

A frustrated one.

A writer who spent sleepless nights trying to craft the perfect steamy scene for her novel, only to end up with cringe-worthy, anatomically questionable nonsense because I had zero real-life experience. A writer who died, literally died, from hunger and exhaustion, struggling to write a spicy chapter that never saw the light of day.

So, yeah. This is personal.

This isn't just about desire—it's about revenge.

Revenge against my old, inexperienced self. Revenge against all those late-night research rabbit holes that led to nothing but shame and secondhand embarrassment.

I refuse to let history repeat itself.

But first, I needed to rebuild my reputation. After all, no decent man would want to get involved with a so-called villainess—especially one with a reputation as bad as Aerin's.

Yeah, yeah, priorities, right? But can you blame me? I mean, look at me. I'm gorgeous. A literal goddess. If you ignore the whole "villainess" reputation, who wouldn't fall for me?

Sigh.

One thing at a time.

"But how? Where do I even begin?" I muttered to myself, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer would magically appear.

Right! Let'settle with that.

I suppose rebuilding my image comes first. Rumors of my miraculous transformation due to amnesia have already spread throughout the empire—even made it into the newspapers. But let's be honest, no one's going to believe it until they see the change for themselves.

Would the people forget all the bad things I did by simply hiding away until my coming of age? This isn't like the novels I've read, or the stories I've written. This is so different from the fantasy worlds I'm familiar with. I feel completely lost.

There's no plot laid out for me, no roadmap to follow. No guaranteed female lead, no destined male lead, no supporting cast, no transmigration novel reference—nothing to prepare me for what's to come. Like I've been thrust into a parallel world—a reality that I'm starting over from scratch. It just went poof! I've taken over the body of a teenage girl at her prime, and that's it! I've stolen her life in the middle of it all.

Though, I can't complain about my family. Sure, I only have a father, but I'm filthy rich. I laughed to myself, realizing I don't need to work anymore. I could live comfortably, just like this.

"Thank you for bringing me to this lady's body! You haven't forsaken me!" I whispered, although sarcastically, looking up in awe, praising the god who blessed me with this second chance.

I've heard of the Supreme God in this world—Vitas, the Goddess of all Creation. Her temple stands as one of the most powerful institutions, filled with divine priests said to possess miraculous healing abilities and the power to offer guidance. People from all walks of life flock to the temple, seeking blessings for their crops, businesses, and well-being.

But what's more interesting is how much influence the temple has amassed over the years—so much so that it now threatens to rival even the emperor's authority. This growing power has made the nobility uneasy, as the balance between the crown and the temple becomes increasingly precarious.

And then, there's the prophecy. 

Every three hundred years, a child is born with the mark of Perengia, the flower of the gods. This sacred flower is said to bloom only in divine lands, and its mark appears on the newborn as a sign of their holy lineage. The birth of this child is an event foretold by the stars themselves.

On the destined day, the sky would be graced by the biggest and brightest star, shining so brilliantly that it remains visible even under the sun's glare. This celestial beacon lasts from dawn till dusk, remaining luminous even through the night, only vanishing when the newborn sees the first light of a new day. That child, and that child alone, is the incarnation of the Saintess—the divine daughter of the Goddess Vitas.

But sixteen years ago, the prophesied day came and went, and no such child was born.

The star shone as foretold, lighting up the heavens for an entire day and night. People waited in breathless anticipation, expecting news of the Saintess's arrival. Yet, when the morning came and the star finally faded, there was nothing—no sign, no marked child, no miracle.

For the first time in recorded history, the divine cycle had been broken.

Rumors took root, growing wilder with each passing year. Some believe the Saintess was hidden away, stolen before the world could see her. Others whisper that she was never born at all—that the Goddess Vitas had turned her back on the mortal realm.

The empire is divided.

Unlike the nobility, whose power is tied to bloodlines and governance, the temple exists entirely outside the emperor's authority. The royal family has no say in religious affairs, nor can they dictate the temple's actions. The divine order answers only to the gods, and through that unwavering belief, they have built a system untouchable by the crown.

Many aristocrats, desperate to secure divine favor, have aligned themselves with the temple, lending their resources and influence to the ongoing search for the lost Saintess. With every passing year, the temple's power grows stronger, while the nobility and the royal family struggle to maintain control. The balance of power is shifting, and from what I can see, it's not in the nobility's favor.

I recently learned that my father's relentless busyness over the past few months has been tied to it.

However, despite its rising influence, the temple is treading carefully. While it holds immense power, it is not invincible. If the empire were to view the temple as a true threat, war could break out—a war neither side wants. The temple may have divine backing, but the empire holds the military and governing force. A direct conflict would be devastating, not just for the nobles and the clergy but for the entire empire. For now, both sides maintain a fragile equilibrium, each wary of tipping the scales too far.

It was only in this new life that I began to grasp just how intricate and ruthless the politics of this world truly were.

I picked up a cookie from the tray Maya had left for me. I'd told her not to leave me alone in an empty room—never again. Not after experiencing the gnawing hunger and sheer frustration that had once consumed me. Who knows? If I starved to death here, I might not get another lucky break with reincarnation or transmigration.

With a sigh, I took a bite, my thoughts already drifting to the mountain of things I still needed to learn.

Noble etiquette, history, court politics—everything that was expected of a duke's daughter. It had been two weeks days since that conversation with my father, and on that same day, I had asked him to hire tutors for me. If I was going to survive in this world, I needed to understand it.

And so, studying it is.

They call it "re-education," a necessity because of my "memory loss." A convenient excuse, really. It gives me time to adjust, to figure out how to navigate this world without making a fool of myself. I had even told my father that I should refrain from attending formal events or tea parties until I had "relearned" everything.

Not that I actually believe I'll get away with that for long.

How many days, weeks, or months will this take? I have no idea. But one thing is certain—I'll be under the watchful, calculating gaze of the nobility, the ton, as they call it here. As the only daughter of a powerful duke, every step I take, every word I utter, will be scrutinized.

As both a writer and a reader who knows how this kind of game is played, I understand one thing clearly: survival here is not just about knowing the rules—it's about bending them to my advantage.