Chapter 1: Panties and War Declarations

Reincarnation wasn't supposed to be like this.

In my last life, I was a high school gal from Tokyo — bleached hair, flashy nails, short skirts, and the art of teasing guys for bubble tea and temporary attention. Then I died. Just like that. Truck. Light. Darkness.

Now, I’m Lady Seraphina Everhart. Fifteen years old. Blue hair, noble status, flawless manners — and unfortunately engaged to the Crown Prince of this empire: Raylen Velharde.

He’s handsome, cold, disgustingly proper… and hates indecent women more than anything.

Which makes him the perfect target.

“Lizzie, does this show enough leg?” I asked, twirling before the mirror in a slightly too-short gown.

My poor maid looked like she was about to faint. “M-My Lady! Your knees! They’re visible!”

“Perfect,” I smirked. “The goal is to make him hate me.”

“But you’re engaged to him!”

“Exactly,” I replied, adjusting the neckline. “And I want out.”

You see, I’ve read enough isekai villainess novels to know one thing: The fiancée always ends up dead, exiled, or used as a political pawn. Not this time.

If I can get him to despise me before our official debut, he’ll call off the engagement himself. Easy escape. No drama. No blood.

So, what’s the plan?

Step one: scandalous behavior.

Step two: skinship.

Step three: make him blush, flinch, or preferably run screaming.

It was flawless.

Until he actually showed up.

Raylen arrived exactly on time, in black formal wear with a silver crest. His hair was jet-black, tied back neatly. His gray eyes? Like they could freeze fire.

“My Lady,” he greeted with a bow.

I leaned in close and smiled sweetly. “Oops, did I drop my fan again?” I bent forward, far enough to give him a peek of lace under my skirt.

His expression didn’t change.

Not a blink. Not a word.

Tough crowd.

Later, at tea, I “accidentally” spilled honey on my chest and dabbed at it far too slowly.

Still nothing.

After he left, I collapsed dramatically on my bed. “Ugh! He’s like a brick wall!”

Lizzie peeked in. “Maybe you should try a... personality tactic instead?”

“Oh, I plan to. Tomorrow’s garden visit? I’ll up the ante.”

The next day, I waited in the rose garden, holding a parasol and wearing sheer sleeves. As Raylen approached, I deliberately bent over a rosebush.

He cleared his throat. “Lady Seraphina.”

I turned with a wide smile. “Oh! Didn’t see you again, Your Highness.”

This time, I saw it. A flicker. A tiny twitch in his jaw.

Success.

Or so I thought.

That afternoon, he sent a gift. A book titled: “The Virtues of Modesty.”

“Oh-ho,” I muttered. “He’s fighting back, huh? Cute.”

Then came the ultimate move. I invited him for tea again and, while giggling to Lizzie in the next room, said this loud enough for the walls to hear:

“Honestly, I want him to break off the engagement. If I keep this up, he’ll hate me soon enough.”

I giggled. “Who knew flashing some skin would be this effective?”

That’s when I noticed the shadow behind the door.

Oh no.

Raylen had been standing there.

For how long?

I froze. Lizzie gasped. He didn’t say a word. Just walked away.

My heart raced. Did I go too far?

But then… something strange happened.

The next week, Raylen began acting differently.

He didn’t send etiquette books anymore.

He started blushing.

When I leaned close, he averted his eyes. When I touched his sleeve, he flinched — not in disgust, but like a boy seeing a girl for the first time.

I caught him staring. And quickly looking away.

Instead of hating me… was he getting shy?

This wasn’t the plan.

And then, he left.

He was called to war in the northern provinces, joining the imperial knights. No farewell, no letter. Just silence.

For seven years.

I grew up. I dyed my hair a deeper violet-blue. I traveled. I painted. I flirted with every noble man who crossed my path.

And then one day, I was teasing a sweet second prince under the cherry trees — just gently — when a deep voice said coldly behind me:

“Do you tease every man like this?”

I turned.

He stood there — taller, broader, sharper. His black hair tousled. His gray eyes no longer cold, but burning.

Raylen.

Before I could speak, he stepped forward, grabbed my wrist — and kissed me.

Hard.

Breath-stealing, mind-breaking, real.

When he pulled away, his voice was low and rough:

“Do you do this to everyone, Seraphina?”

My heart skipped a beat.

No. No, no, no.

This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go.

This… was how it all truly began.

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