Chapter 2 — “Universe, Why Do You Hate Me?!”

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I immediately knew two things.

One: this was not a dream.

Two: the universe officially hated me.

The golden morning light fell across a room that was way too fancy to belong to anyone with student loans. Silk curtains, ivory walls, a chandelier so big it could probably power a small country with its tax money — and me, sitting up in bed, hair a mess, screaming into a pillow.

> “Universe… WHAT CRIME HAVE I COMMITTED FOR YOU TO GIVE ME THIS PUNISHMENT?!”

“Good morning, Lady Morana,” a maid chirped as if my mental breakdown wasn’t echoing through the room. “Your breakfast will be ready soon. The carriage to the Academy leaves in an hour.”

“Right. Academy,” I muttered, dragging myself out of bed like a condemned soul. “Because apparently, being thrown into a death countdown wasn’t enough.”

As soon as the maid left, I stared at the invisible air above my hand. “System?”

[Affection System Active.]

There it was. The glowing blue screen I’d seen last night — floating innocently like it didn’t just ruin my life.

“Okay,” I said, clapping my hands. “Let’s make a plan. We get everyone’s affection scores over 50%, we live. Simple.”

[Correction: You attempt to live.]

I blinked. “…Excuse me?”

[Based on current behavioral patterns, success rate: 2%.]

“…Two? Percent?!”

[Generous estimation.]

The audacity of this glowing rectangle. “You’re supposed to help me!”

[Technically, I am.]

“By roasting me?”

[Motivation achieved.]

I took a deep breath. “You know what? Fine. Challenge accepted.”

[Please refrain from overconfidence. The universe enjoys irony.]

I froze. “…You can’t just say that ominous stuff and disappear!”

But the system did exactly that, fading away with an almost smug ding!

---

By the time I arrived at the Royal Academy of Aetherra, my sanity was hanging by a thread.

The campus was a dream — floating gardens, spell-lit towers, and enough mana in the air to make my hair float a little. The problem? Everyone stared at me like I was a walking curse.

Which, to be fair, “Morana Aelith Azara” was.

In the novel, she’d been the perfect villainess: arrogant, manipulative, and smart enough to make life miserable for everyone — especially the heroine, Mia Lizen.

But that was the original Morana. I was just a very tired college student with zero noble etiquette and a GPA held together by caffeine.

And now, apparently, a “Grand Duke’s daughter.”

I tugged at my gloves as I stepped into the main hall. The whispers followed immediately.

> “Isn’t that Lady Morana?”

“She looks… different.”

“Did she actually smile?”

“I heard she cursed her last tutor.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered under my breath. “Day one, and my PR team’s already failing.”

[Affection Scores Updated.]

The system screen popped up again.

All zeros.

Except—

Mother, Claire Sinira Azara: 39%

Father, Derrick Mirasa Azara: 0%

Brother #1, Kian Aurin Azara: -15%

Brother #2, Lucas Mirel Azara: -20%

Brother #3, Ezekiel Aures Azara: 0%

The sight made me groan. “How do you even get negative affection? Did she punch them?”

[Data confirms physical altercation with Brother #2.]

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of course she did.”

---

Classes started with Basic Mana Theory — which sounded manageable.

Until the professor wheeled out a chalkboard covered in equations that looked like someone sneezed mid-spell.

“Now, as you all know,” the professor began, “these five problems have remained unsolved for generations. Scholars have debated for decades—”

I raised my hand before my brain could stop me. “Uh, excuse me—”

Every head turned.

The professor blinked. “Yes, Lady Morana?”

“…Isn’t the answer just mana transference through triple resonance layering?”

The silence that followed was… cosmic.

Even the mana crystals humming in the walls seemed to pause.

The professor frowned, then turned back to the board, chalk flying. Within two minutes, the impossible equation was solved — perfectly.

He turned slowly to me, eyes wide. “H-how—?”

“Oh.” I shrugged. “It’s just basic flow inversion. We did something similar in—uh—my previous…”

Don’t say world, don’t say world.

“…studies.”

Gasps.

Whispers.

Someone in the back dropped their quill.

I sunk into my seat. Why do I open my mouth.

[Reputation Increased: “Mysterious Genius” title obtained.]

“Stop it,” I hissed under my breath.

[Apologies. Would you prefer ‘Suspicious Overachiever’?]

“…You’re doing this on purpose.”

[Observation: Correct.]

---

By the end of the day, the rumors had spread like wildfire.

> “Did you hear? Lady Morana solved all five problems!”

“No way, that’s impossible!”

“They said even the Tower Archmage couldn’t do it!”

I could feel the attention. And it was giving me anxiety.

All I wanted was to lay low, raise affection scores, not die, and maybe find a way back home.

Instead, I’d somehow reinvented Morana’s image into a magical prodigy.

Just great.

As I made my way toward the cafeteria, I muttered, “I just want peace, okay? PEACE.”

[Request Denied.]

I froze mid-step. “Excuse me?”

[Incoming event: ‘Lunch with Trouble.’]

“What—”

But before I could finish, someone bumped into me — hard.

Books flew, mana flickered, and a familiar low voice said, “You should really watch where you’re going, Lady Morana.”

I looked up.

Tall. Black hair. Eyes like molten gold. A smile that looked harmless, but something about it made the back of my neck prick.

The villain.

Kai Blaze Odessa.

The character I had written to be the end of the world.

And he was smiling down at me like we were old friends.

[After she ran of from the academy back home and pretended to be sick to bunk school while not even actually pretending]

When you find out you’ll die unless people start liking you, you expect—oh, I don’t know—dramatic lightning, eerie music, a ghost whispering “you’re doomed.”

Not pancakes.

After that morning’s catastrophic breakfast (a.k.a. “The Great Pancake Favoritism Incident”), I retreated to my room faster than a noble retreating from unpaid taxes.

And yes, I may have screamed into a pillow. Twice.

> 💬 [System]: Screaming detected. Would you like to log this under “Coping Mechanisms” or “Existential Meltdown #2”?

“BOTH!”

I sat up, hair wild, eyes bloodshot, looking like a raccoon that lost custody of its trash can.

“Okay,” I told myself, clutching the nearest pillow for emotional support. “You just have to survive seven months. Seven months of pretending to be a perfectly sane, loveable daughter-slash-sister in a family that currently ranks your existence somewhere between ‘mild inconvenience’ and ‘tax fraud.’ Easy, right?”

> 💬 [System]: Statistically, your odds of survival are 3.7%.

“…You could’ve lied.”

I grabbed my quill and a notebook from the desk. “Alright. Operation ‘Don’t Die’ begins now.”

---

Step One: Assess the Situation

I flipped open the glowing blue Affection Dashboard hovering in the air.

[Affection Levels — Morana Aelith Azara]

Claire Sinira Azara (Mother): 47% ❤️

Derrick Mirasa Azara (Father): 0%

Kian Aurin Azara (Eldest Brother): -15%

Lucas Mirel Azara (Middle Brother): -25%

Ezekiel Aures Azara (Twin Brother): -20%

??? (Hidden)

“Hidden? Oh no, no, no—who the hell is that?!”

> 💬 [System]: Information locked. Progress the story.

“Oh, so I have to SUFFER first. Great writing, past me!”

---

Step Two: Damage Control

I tapped the quill against my cheek, thinking. “Okay. Mother loves me. Good. She’s my only emotional life raft right now. I can work with that.”

> 💬 [System]: Affection farming detected.

“Don’t call it that!”

“Father’s neutral, meaning he doesn’t care if I exist. I can fix that. Kian? Too responsible to hate me, just secretly judges my life choices. Ezekiel? Twin. Built-in rival. Lucas?”

I sighed. “Lucas has resting betrayal face. He’s doomed.”

---

Step Three: Cry About It

Because what else do you do when you realize your own brothers hate you and the only person who doesn’t might be the mother you once poisoned in the original draft?

“I hate this so much,” I muttered, throwing myself back on the bed. “Why couldn’t I transmigrate as a side character? Or a talking cat? Talking cats don’t have affection scores!”

> 💬 [System]: Correction: Talking cats have owner satisfaction ratings.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

---

Step Four: Panic. Creatively.

By the time evening hit, I’d changed into a comfortable gown and was pacing in front of the window. The sunset painted the sky in golds and reds—very poetic, very tragic, very help-I’m-gonna-die.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “Seven months to become… likable? I can’t even compliment someone without sounding like I’m plotting their downfall!”

> 💬 [System]: You could try smiling more.

“I did that at breakfast. Lucas flinched.”

“A victory.”

Somewhere downstairs, I heard laughter—Mother’s soft voice, Kian’s calm baritone, Lucas’s dramatic drawl. It was the sound of a family that used to include me… before Morana ruined everything.

I pressed my forehead against the glass. “I’m not her,” I murmured. “I didn’t do those things. I didn’t—”

> 💬 [System]: The world doesn’t know that.

And there it was—the punchline to the world’s cruelest joke.

---

Step Five: Denial (Again)

“Alright,” I said finally, throwing my hands up. “This is just a dream. A super long, terrifying, very vivid dream.”

> Wrap up in blanket. Close eyes.

“Okay, universe, I’ve learned my lesson! I’ll never write a tragic villain again! Just let me wake up now!”

…

…

Nothing happened.

> 💬 [System]: Dream denial detected. Please proceed to acceptance.

“I hate you.”

> “No refunds.”

---

Step Six: Existential Crisis (ft. Motherly Interruption)

Knock.

I froze. The door creaked open, revealing Mother again—radiant, smiling, holding a tray.

“Morana, dear,” she said softly, “you didn’t eat much earlier. I brought some tea.”

My brain short-circuited. “O-oh. Thank you.”

She walked in, the scent of jasmine following her. “You’ve seemed… different lately.”

“Different? Haha, me? Nooo, totally the same chaotic mess you raised.”

She chuckled, setting the tray down. “Chaotic, perhaps. But softer.”

I blinked. “Softer?”

“Yes.” She brushed my hair back again, and I swear my soul vibrated. “It suits you.”

> 💬 [System]: Claire Affection: 47 → 51%. Objective partially fulfilled.

I smiled weakly. “That’s… good to know.”

For a second, I almost believed I could do this. That maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a punishment.

But when she left, the silence returned—and so did the numbers glowing in front of me.

Red. Bright. Unforgiving.

> ⚠️ Main Quest: Survive the Affection System

Objective: Raise all family members’ affection to 50% or higher by your 23rd birthday.

Time Remaining: 7 months.

Failure: Permanent death.

The words burned themselves into my vision until my throat went dry.

I laughed once—soft, cracked, disbelieving. “Permanent death. Cute.”

And then I whispered, quieter this time—

“…Why me?”

The System didn’t answer.

---

Meanwhile, Somewhere in the Royal Academy...

Kai Blaze Odessa stood beneath a silver tree in the courtyard, the moonlight brushing his dark hair. His expression was calm—too calm for someone who’d just watched the Grand Duke’s daughter storm out like a storm disguised as a person.

“She’s different,” he murmured.

“Different?” a voice echoed from behind him. Rhys Mauriel, his ever-annoying friend, leaned against a pillar with a grin. “You mean scarier?”

Kai smirked faintly. “Maybe.” His golden eyes glinted like fire under the moonlight. “Or maybe she’s finally becoming interesting.”

Rhys snorted. “You say that like it’s a compliment.”

“It is.”

He turned away, watching the carriage wheels fade down the dark road leading to the Azara estate.

Somewhere in his chest, something—something old and inconvenient—stirred.

> “Let’s see how long you can survive in your own story, Morana Azara.”

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