In my dingy little apartment, surrounded by empty cup noodles containers and squished soda cans, I sat in front of my desk computer, fingers hovering awkwardly over the keyboard. I glared at what I had to admit looked like a conspiracy theorist’s murder board hanging up on my wall, with endless sticky notes tacked to crude sketches and even different colored strings lined between them. 

Why can’t I figure this out?! I pulled at my tangled hair in frustration as I groaned, no closer to naming my true villain than I had been several hours ago. Months of work on writing this narrative game, and I was still stuck on the most crucial part. Naturally, being the glutton for punishment that I am I had saved the most difficult for last, spending ages on developing and writing scenes for the characters I loved and little to no time on the constant mental brick wall I ran into trying to envision the actual villain.

As a deep lover of Otome games and aspiring game writer, it had been an easy choice to create a Villainess-perspective Otome narrative game for my final project. The villainess herself had formed so easily to me it was unbelievable, her entire look and personality crystallized in my imagination so quickly she felt like a long-lost sister, a real person I had always known and somehow forgotten. The rest of the characters had sprouted naturally from this starting point, inspired by what kind of people would shape her, who she would draw to her and who she would anger, how she would be feared. But the true villain, the mastermind of the plot to frame her refused to take shape in my brain, no matter how much I willed them to burst forth. 

I had carefully crafted her world, the magic within it, and the misunderstood nature of the unique magic my supposed villainess would receive, the victim of a vague prophecy and underlying plot to use her power against her and her kingdom, making her the scapegoat in the process. The “heroine” who would believe they were saving the country by killing her. But who would be the one to betray her? Who would be the true “final boss”? For some reason, it evaded my reach. I stood to get closer to my drawings of each character so far—perhaps I had missed an opportunity to develop someone? But in the blink of an eye, everything changed; just as I rose, the edges of my vision blurred. 

What? Shit, must have got up too fast. When did I eat last again? 

I tried to get back down in my chair but the room swayed and swirled violently, time almost suspended as I realized… I was going to faint. And just like that, as suddenly as it had come on, with a mixture of disbelief and fear, I succumbed to utter darkness before my body hit the floor. 

—

My eyes peeled open slowly, as I groggily attempted to ascertain my surroundings. But to my surprise instead of the wood floor under my desk, I felt an extremely soft bed beneath my fingers. Above me was not the plain white ceiling of my cheap apartment, but the kind of vaulted and decorated ceiling I had only seen in movies of royal castles and the like, with beautifully detailed trim painted in gorgeous green and gold hues. I was entranced for a moment before a voice I didn’t recognize broke the spell.

“Silvana? Are you really awake?” With some effort, I turned my head towards the voice and found… I know this face. Elegant and sharp, with contrastingly bright eyes and salt and pepper hair rangled into tamed waves. My brain ground to a complete stop. Wait. That name. 

“Oh thank god! Do you have any idea how worried I was young lady? Don’t ever scare me like that again do you hear me!” His stern tone was completely contradicted by the pure worry in his expression, and I couldn’t help but chuckle in spite of my internal whiplash—though it did bubble up a bit unnaturally. This man…This is… I attempted to force my throat to work, without success. 

“It’s alright dear don’t push yourself,” he was attentive and observant, clearly, cutting me off before I could get a single scratchy word out, his striking silver eyes filled with warm concern. “I’ll send the doctor in at once, save your strength for your recovery!” With that, he pressed a quick kiss to my forehead and strode out the door, leaving me flabbergasted.

My mind was racing at a million miles per hour. The Baron… I couldn’t deny it. Not only was he a perfect match for the character I had made, he was so true an expression of him I could feel it in my very bones. The Baron William Ravenscroft… I felt as if I had made an imitation of him when I created his character, not the other way around—and something about that thought sent a chill down my spine. 

With my heart pounding I set to investigating, testing my neck and limbs with great effort as I dragged myself upright to look around the room, feeling decidedly odd in my own body. My joints cracked, my muscles stretched and pulled out of their soreness and I pulled myself out from the bed and in front of a mirror across the room. 

So I… I’m Silvana. I stared into the strangely colorless, distinctive silvery eyes in the mirror that matched the Baron’s and marked the House Ravenscroft line, as I had written myself. The inky black hair that flowed overlong to my knees in unruly curls just the way I had imagined, the delicate yet sharp features that had never belonged to me. She really was every inch the picture of a villainess, an air of haughtiness about her expressionless face I couldn't seem to shake, and looks as beautiful as they were cold. I frowned slightly as I realized how small my frame was, feeling a bit vulnerable in comparison to the sturdy and muscular body type I was used to. But as I began to process what was happening, a jittery excitement and fear filled my being too. I’m in my game?! I’m in my game!! Am I dead? Dreaming? I pinched myself hard and only felt pain, rubbing the spot and pouting slightly at my reflection as if she were to blame. I heard footsteps approaching and darted back to the bed, immediately and instinctively deciding that leaning into whatever injury or illness had befallen Silvana before my arrival was the safest way to conceal any differences in personality that might come from my sudden inhabiting of this body, even if I was still slightly doubtful and equally hopeful this was real. One step at a time.

“It’s excellent she’s awoken so quickly, I will need to ask her some questions to gauge if she experienced any mental or emotional damage but this is a great sign—“ the unfamiliar voice was almost overly friendly, with notes of desperation to please the listener. The Baron was clearly happy with this though, and bore a wide smile as they entered the room. 

“My Silvana is strong, of course this won’t keep her down for long!” He was bursting with fatherly pride, and despite myself, I felt my eyes growing a little glassy at the easy display of love I had always wanted to experience. It was something I had safeguarded obsessively for my beloved villainess in my writing, a loving family to stand by her through her trials—the hateful and neglectful family was one trope I couldn’t bring myself to repeat. In person, it touched me more than I could have expected–he was every bit the doting father I had envisioned and the experience was surreal. The Baron showed some concern at my sudden turn towards tears but I smiled reassuringly at him and managed to whisper, “You are a bit biased I think, to be so proud of me in such a state.” 

“How dare you say anything other than ‘I love you Father’ as your first words after that ordeal??” He failed entirely to hide his playfulness as he poked fun at me and I felt warmth build in my chest. I had written them as a sort of pair, the Baron who had lost his Baroness in childbirth and found a thread of her again in his daughter. The affection that filled my voice as I corrected myself was so natural it embarrassed me.

“I love you, Father.” We beamed at each other, lost in our little world. The doctor appeared to be unaccustomed to such displays as he gruffly began to interject, “Now then I shall only be a few minutes I assure you,” herding my doting father out of the way as best he could (he managed barely a foot or two of space for himself)  and going through a quick series of physical tests as he started his questions. “Can you tell me what you remember?” 

My heart rate spiked with apprehension. I chose my words as carefully as I could, tilting my head in a convincing display of fatigue and confusion. “Truthfully… I don’t remember anything. What exactly happened to me?” I let my eyes slide over to the Baron inquisitively, hoping he would give me the context I desperately needed to survive this conversation.

The doctor showed some surprise and concern at this, immediately jumping to his follow-up question: “What’s the last thing you do remember? Please think carefully.”

That was exactly the question I didn’t want to be asked, I thought with irritation, wishing he had simply answered me, scrambling for the best answer and putting my meager acting abilities to their fullest use as I feigned combing through my memory. The start of the game would have been the Ascension Ceremony event, where her magic class was determined and the game set in motion, so what would Silvana have been doing up until that point? What’s the best answer?

Luckily, my new father accidentally came to my timely rescue anyway, his tone stern as he turned to the doctor: “Perhaps she needs a little time to recover her thoughts doctor. Besides, you know well that as the pride of the Ravencroft House my dear Silvana spent weeks hibernating in our Resonance Chamber in preparation for the Ascension Ceremony. All her days were monitored, right up until the ceremony itself—I have already given you her full schedule and medical records, and access to our chamber. Surely she can’t give you much more information than that.” 

“I.. I MISSED IT?!” My relief at his rescue had been incredibly short-lived, and I was so shocked my reaction was entirely unmasked, if not a bit overloud. I quickly corrected myself, “The-the ascension ceremony already happened?” I was wide-eyed, looking to my father desperately hoping he would provide answers, my mind racing in panic. “So she doesn’t remember the ceremony…” the doctor muttered to himself as my father and I completely ignored him.

How can that be right?! The first event already happened?! The ascension was the first major chapter in the game I’d written—a sort of coming-of-age ceremony for residents of this world that determined your magic alignment and power level. It was the event that identified Silvana as a Harbinger, a rare dark magic type that could drain the power of others, down to their very life force. It was what made her a Villainess, the catalyst for the whole game. What had happened?!

The Baron was eyeing me closely with an unreadable expression, carefully and slowly answering me as if I were some skittish animal that might turn tail at any moment.

“My dear… the moment you touched the ascension crystal, it shattered, and you collapsed.“ I stared at him agape. No…

“The ceremony was stopped, and your results were deemed inconclusive. There are no previous instances of such a thing happening…” The doctor and my father met eyes before the doctor cautiously added, “It is suspected that there may have been foul play.” My father finished with a dramatic flair, “And whoever is responsible shall find exactly how foul I can play.”

I could barely even comprehend their words, lost in my own inner spiral of dread. No… NO. This isn’t what I wrote. How?! Why is it different? What is happening?!

“Investigations are being done on the remains of the crystal and your resonance chamber,” the doctor continued, oblivious to my slow descent into madness. “But anything you can remember, anything unusual or suspicious, you must share with us immediately.” 

I nodded vacantly, looking back towards my father in a silent plea. Thankfully, he understood, piping up quickly to declare his daughter needed rest and usher the doctor out the door despite his protests. I huffed a sigh of relief as I heard them retreat down the hall, though the anxiety crept back up as I processed what had been said.

In my writing, the ascension ceremony had also gone very differently—there had been an incident, but it certainly hadn’t been the shattering of the crystal meant to be a catalyst for the full development of her powers… it had been her affinity with dark magic, and designation as potentially the “Harbinger” the prophecy named. Rather than shattering the crystal, in my writing she drained all of the magic and color out of it as she ascended, evidencing her fully developed dark magic. Had that been… avoided? Right at the outset? I was in full detective mode, going through memories of the details I had written, lost in my thoughts when the Baron re-entered the room.

“I know that look,” he quipped, “but I was being serious when I said you need rest.” I must not have hid my displeasure well, for he chuckled and added, “We can put our heads together in the morning, yes?”

“But father… it shattered?” I looked at him meaningfully—I didn’t dare give away my true concern, but even if it had not clearly shown my magic’s nature, this could itself be seen as a sign of dark magic, couldn’t it? What meaning had everyone taken from this?

“Well, I suppose it’s possible that the crystal was simply not strong enough to withstand the power of your ascension. You are my little prodigy, after all.” He seemed completely unconvinced though, and we both knew there was no basis for that. I continued to simply look at him, wondering how much he had guessed about the dark magic that should have been revealed.

“Silvana…” his expression turned heavy, as he prepared to deliver a more serious speech. It was then, watching him struggle to find the words to tell me something I wouldn’t want to hear, that realization began to dawn and I finally started to piece together what must have happened.

“Father, what color was my light in the Resonance Chamber?”

His resigned look told me everything I needed to know.