Scarlett blinked. "What did you say, Crown Prince?"

"I said that I don't want us to be near each other when school starts in the spring. I'm planning on breaking off our engagement," he replied.

Scarlett didn't register the last part. Her head was pounding and she felt faint. Her ears were ringing sharply. Something was wrong. The room began to spin around her. Scarlett promptly fainted on the couch as the tea spilled from her limp hands onto her dress.

The Crown Prince leapt up in alarm. As darkness overtook her, Scarlett's last thought was that something wasn't right.

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When Scarlett awoke, she found herself floating in an endless abyss. She had no physical form - she was the air itself, drifting without anchors. Before she could wonder where she was or what had happened, memories unlike her own began to surface.

She saw another life unfold - a girl named Alison, abandoned by her mother on the streets at age 12. Weeks later, she was taken in on that same street by a couple who at first seemed kind, but hid darkness within. From 12 to 15, Alison suffered abuse at the hands of her adoptive father, who gave her unwanted late night “visits”. Her mother, initially sweet, grew cruel as she learned the truth but did nothing to stop it.

Alison found the strength to leave once in high school, when a teacher reported her parents' crimes. She was placed in foster care, enduring pity from all. Pity she did not want. At 16, determined to be successful, Alison took up Muay Thai and aimed for law school. She worked tirelessly, even falling in love at 17 with a boy she thought would be her future. But how wrong she was.

Accepted to Harvard at 19, the same year she suffered her first and last heartbreak - walking in on her boyfriend in her own bed with a close friend. She screamed curses and kicked them out in while they were naked.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

That night, after crying herself to exhaustion and replaying her favorite comforting game, Alison swallowed a handful of sleeping pills and never woke again.

Scarlett felt crushed by Alison's tragic end.

How could such a tragic demise befall her? Had she genuinely intended to end her own life? To what end? For a pitiful young man with an utterly average penis? It was not as though Alison lacked beauty; she possessed a captivating allure that had garnered widespread admiration. She could have effortlessly ensnared another suitor, compelling her former lover to regret his actions, instead of succumbing to tears and self-inflicted demise.

There were surely other prospects after all she had survived. Most shocking of all was realizing, as the memories played on, that the very game Alison took solace in was the same one Scarlett now found herself in - as the most hated character, doomed to die in every route. "Fuck my life," she thought. What twist of fate had led her here?

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Scarlett jolted awake, sitting up drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. The maids at her bedside moved to comfort her, but their words were muffled—her ears were ringing. She realized she was having a panic attack.

A few minutes later, when her mother burst into the room sobbing, Scarlett's hearing slowly returned. Clutching her chest, she rasped, "How long was I unconscious?"

"A week," one maid informed her solemnly. A week of reliving Alison's life in vivid detail. "I really did reincarnate," Scarlett whispered to herself in disbelief.

Soon after, the family doctor arrived to examine her. He declared Scarlett physically recovered after checking her vitals. Her parents took the doctor aside to converse privately.

Left alone with her thoughts, Scarlett mourned the loss of her past life. How does one cope with the revelation that their entire existence was fabricated by another, and that their demise is imminent? She almost wept at the unfairness of it.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Scarlett realized survival was her only option—just as it had been for Alison. Though born into immense wealth, no privilege could save her if she didn't adapt.

Her parents returned, mother inquiring tenderly if Scarlett wish to eat. She said yes. Scarlett felt a sense of profound detachment that overwhelmed her. No longer did she perceive them as her own flesh and blood, and even the trust she grew up in disappeared. Was this detachment a response to the trauma she endured? Scarlett recognized that viewing them as strangers would not serve her well.

She felt no emotional connection to these individuals now that she understood their existence to be nothing more than a work of fiction. Even their love seemed artificial.

Yet, in a moment of clarity, she chastised herself for such thoughts. This was not fiction; this was her reality, and this detachment she experienced was wrong. They were her family, regardless of what she now knew. She hoped that with time, the detachment would fade away.

Weakened from her ordeal, Scarlett struggled to the dining hall with the maids' help. Scarlett couldn't help but question why a sick patient was expected to walk such a considerable distance. It was then that her mother explained the necessity of regaining strength in her legs, having been confined to bed for an extended period of time.

Eventually, Scarlett arrived at the dining room, though the weakness in her body made the journey arduous. She mustered her strength and valiantly persevered. Just as she finished her meal, her fiancé—no, the male lead—entered. Unresolved issues demanded addressing, for her future depended on it.