[Riven Ainsley’s POV]

I have questions.

Big, terrifying, existential ones. Like—

Why the hell am I lying in a velvet canopy bed wearing a lace cravat and someone else’s face?

I blink up at the ornate ceiling. Gold trim. Crystal chandelier. A bird-shaped fresco?

Okay. No, no. This is fine.

Totally normal. Just another Tuesday in... literal hell.

Last night, I fell asleep reading the trashiest straight romance novel known to humankind: “Duke of Her Heart.” I was hate-reading it, thank you very much. The kind where the female lead trips into a man’s arms every five minutes, and the male lead has the emotional range of a teaspoon.

I may have sarcastically screamed, “Just let the villain win!” before passing out.

Now here I am.

As said villain.

“Lord Ainsley,” a voice calls from outside the door. “Your presence is required at the royal court.”

I groan. Riven Ainsley. That’s me now, apparently. The flamboyant, sharp-tongued noble who hates the female lead and tries to marry the male lead for power. He’s supposed to get publicly humiliated, exiled, and forgotten.

Not on my gay little watch.

---

Thirty minutes later, I strut into the royal hall like I own the damn kingdom.

I don’t, but the heels of my boots click like I do. Courtiers whisper. I catch the heroine—Aurelia Quinn—giggling like a Disney side character and the male lead—Lucien Valehart—leaning dramatically against a pillar like he’s modeling for a grief-themed oil painting.

Damn. He is stupidly hot. Tall, sculpted jaw, obsidian eyes, and that brooding thing women (and I) hate to love.

Our eyes meet.

And for a moment…

I swear he flinches.

“Lucien,” I purr, dragging out his name like honey off a spoon. “Still staring at me like I stole your inheritance? You’re starting to make me blush.”

He frowns. Tight-lipped. Displeased.

Score one for me.

“You shouldn’t be here, Lord Ainsley,” Lucien says coolly. “This gathering is for the Duke’s council.”

“Which I am painfully a part of, darling. Until I’m not. Or did you forget I bought that title fair and square with family blood, betrayal, and an unhealthy addiction to imported wine?”

Aurelia gasps like I just insulted a baby. Lucien’s mouth twitches. Is that amusement?

Nope. Can’t be.

I glance around and realize something horrible: I’m standing in the middle of Chapter 4. This is where Riven is supposed to throw a drink on Aurelia out of petty jealousy. That’s what gets him publicly shamed and stripped of nobility.

I grab the wine goblet.

Pause.

And then, instead of splashing it on her, I raise it in a toast.

“To the ever-radiant Lady Aurelia Quinn—may your curls remain impossibly bouncy and your tragic innocence survive the patriarchy.”

The hall goes dead silent.

Aurelia looks like I just handed her a snake in a tiara.

Lucien stares at me.

No—watches me.

There’s a difference.

Like a hawk about to dissect a new species of prey.

And just like that, the plot shatters.

---

[Lucien Valehart’s POV]

Riven Ainsley is a snake.

Not the kind that bites. The kind that slithers in, coils around your logic, and whispers things that make you question your sense of order.

He’s not supposed to be this… collected. This dangerous.

Not to my plans. Not to me.

But when he turned and smirked at me just now like he knew a thousand things I didn’t?

I felt it.

A flicker.

Of interest.

Of warning.

Of desire?

No. Absolutely not.

I’ve never once looked at a man like that.

And yet… I can’t look away.

---

To Be Continued.

\****CHARACTER INTRODUCTIONS***\*

Riven Ainsley (MC)

Age: 19

Traits: Strong, sarcastic, elegant but cocky, proudly gay

Backstory: A university student known for roasting cheesy romance plots. After falling asleep reading one, he wakes up inside it—as the villain nobleman.

Novel Role: The one who’s supposed to ruin the romance and get exiled.

New Path: Riven starts twisting the storylines with his sass, breaking tropes, and stealing everyone’s spotlight… including the ML’s heart.

Lucien Valehart (ML)

Age: 22

Traits: Cold, refined, dangerous, emotionally guarded, future duke

Original Role: The aloof male lead who eventually warms to the heroine.

New Twist: Instead of the heroine, he becomes fascinated by Riven’s unpredictable behavior and self-assured arrogance. That fascination slowly turns to obsession.

----

“I wasn’t born to follow the story. I was born to ruin it beautifully.” — Riven Ainsley

[Riven Ainsley’s POV]

Lucien Valehart is still watching me.

Not glaring. Not ignoring.

Watching. Like a predator trying to decide if I’m worth the trouble of hunting—or too venomous to risk biting.

Good. Let him stare. Let him suffocate on the fact that I’m not playing by his rules.

I strut out of the royal court like I’m the one holding the crown. I don’t, but the way people move out of my way? Maybe I should.

According to the “original plot,” this was supposed to be the start of my grand downfall. Chapter Five: Villain Makes Scene → Villain Humiliates Heroine → Villain Gets Cursed by Karma™.

But instead of soaking the darling heroine with wine, I toasted to her curls and complimented the patriarchy.

Lucien didn’t like that.

He liked it too much.

“Lord Ainsley.”

The voice slides down my spine like ice. I don’t turn. Just smirk and keep walking.

“Unless you’re here to apologize for your inability to blink like a normal human being, I suggest you save your breath, Prince Charming.”

Lucien appears beside me with the elegance of someone who could kill and be praised for it. His boots don’t even make a sound.

“You’re... different today.”

“Tragic. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“You weren’t meant to flatter Aurelia.”

“You weren’t meant to enjoy it.”

A flicker—barely there—dances across his face. Something between annoyance and… amusement?

No.

Not that.

He steps in front of me, cutting off my path. I stop. We’re too close now—his breath grazes my cheek, cool and maddening.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says lowly, voice silk wrapped around a blade.

I tilt my head. “And you’re upset I’m better at it.”

Lucien's hand rises—slowly, deliberately. He brushes his fingers just under my jaw, like he’s checking if I flinch.

I don’t.

“You’re not what I expected,” he murmurs.

“And you’re exactly what I did,” I whisper back. “Boring, brooding, emotionally constipated…”

He chuckles. Chuckles. Like the word ‘emotionally constipated’ gave him life.

Then he leans in—closer than should be legal—and says,

“Careful, Riven. You’re becoming interesting.”

And then he’s gone.

No footsteps. No goodbye. Just heat and tension left behind in his absence.

Later That Night...

My chambers are too quiet. Luxurious, yes—but silent in that suspicious way that makes you feel watched even when you’re alone.

I pour myself a glass of wine and find an envelope on my desk.

No seal. No signature. Just one sentence:

> You're not fooling me, Riven.

But I’ll play along. For now.

—L

I trace the ink with my thumb and smile.

Oh, Lucien.

You think you’re playing me?

That’s adorable.

[Lucien Valehart’s POV]

I’ve never cared much for snakes. But Riven Ainsley?

He doesn’t crawl. He struts. Flaunts. Dares.

He twists the plotlines I’ve memorized. His tongue is a weapon, and every word slices deeper than a blade.

He was meant to be a nuisance. A side villain.

Forgettable.

But he doesn’t fade.

He shines—with venom and arrogance and something worse.

Temptation.

If he thinks I’ll let him rewrite my story… he’s mistaken.

But maybe I’ll let him try.

Just to watch him fall.

To Be Continued...

SURPRISE! SURPRISE!darlings......

who do you think the ML is ?😉

“You think you’re breaking the rules, but some of us were born reading them.” — Unknown

---

[Riven Ainsley’s POV]

By morning, the note from Lucien has vanished.

No trace. No seal. No explanation.

Just like the man himself—leaves chaos, but never fingerprints.

I’d almost believe I imagined it, if not for the lingering scent of dark spice and pine on the paper.

That’s the thing about Lucien Valehart: he doesn’t chase power. He stares at it until it folds.

Too bad I fold for no one.

I brush off the night’s weirdness and focus on the goal: stay alive, cause chaos, and steal every scene I’m not supposed to be in.

---

Court Garden. Midday.

The sun is obnoxiously cheerful. Birds chirp. Flowers bloom. The heroine, Aurelia, twirls near the fountain like she’s auditioning for a perfume ad.

I’m lounging under a parasol with a glass of something cold and expensive. Watching.

From the corner of my eye, Lucien appears. Silent again, like a damn curse. Only this time, he’s already looking at me.

Not Aurelia.

Me.

“You’re sulking,” I say without glancing up.

He stands across from me, arms behind his back like a statue sculpted out of disdain.

“You changed the scene.”

My fingers tighten around the glass. “Excuse me?”

Lucien tilts his head slightly. “There was supposed to be a moment. A stumble. A hand on her waist. A shared gaze.”

His eyes flick toward Aurelia, then back to me.

“You… interfered.”

Something in his voice—low, distant, almost clinical—sends a chill across my skin.

“You’re upset I stole the show?” I mock, though my smirk feels a bit tight. “Sorry, Your Highness. She was too busy tripping over her own innocence.”

He doesn’t react. Just watches me.

Then—very softly—he says:

“You weren’t supposed to be here.”

My smile falters.

“Pardon?”

Lucien blinks slowly. Almost as if he didn’t mean to say that aloud. But then the corners of his mouth curve—just a little.

“You act like this world belongs to you, Lord Ainsley.”

He leans in slightly. “But some of us remember how it’s meant to unfold.”

The word remember hits me like a slap.

What the hell does that mean?

But before I can demand answers, he straightens and turns his gaze back to Aurelia. “Try not to ruin my story too quickly,” he murmurs.

And then he walks away.

---

Later…

I’m in my chambers again, pacing like a man with too many unsolved puzzles.

That phrase. My story. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t part of the book.

It wasn’t even part of the world.

Lucien spoke with the precision of someone who knew. Not guessed. Not assumed.

Knew.

I look in the mirror. Behind the silk and sarcasm, something unsettles me.

I thought I was the intruder here.

Now I’m not so sure.

---

[Lucien Valehart’s POV]

Riven is more than an anomaly.

He’s a contradiction.

He speaks like he knows the curtain has already lifted. Like he sees the strings behind the stage.

But he doesn’t realize—

I see them too.

He thinks he’s rewriting the story.

But I remember the lines. The order. The ending.

And now, I want to see what happens when I rip the pages with him.

---

To Be Continued...