Chapter 12: Locked In A Room
"Hngh!" She gritted her teeth, pulling at the window once more. She’d been at it for nearly an hour now, taking short breaks just to stop her arms from trembling.
But no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t budge. Her fingertips were raw, reddened from effort, and thin scrapes lined her skin where the glass had bitten back. Even her nails were starting to split.
It felt hopeless.
║[SYSTEM] Main Event Countdown: 5 hours remaining until conclusion.║
Outside, chaos was already brewing. Cressida could hear the distant gasps and murmurs bleeding through the walls.
But this wasn’t some cliché scene where the crown prince publicly denounced the villainess with the heroine clinging to his arm.
No, this was far worse.
He had just declared the heroine his consort.
’That fucking manwhore!’
Finally, after one last futile tug, she gave up. That damn window wasn’t budging.
Her eyes landed on the table in front of her, an array of crystal bottles and half-filled glasses glinting under the candlelight. Alcohol. Expensive, aged, and probably meant for nobles who didn’t have to fight for their lives.
"Well, if I’m going to get caught anyway," she muttered, dragging herself toward it, "I might as well die drunk."
Without bothering with a cup, she uncorked the bottle and took a long, unapologetic swig. The wine burned down her throat like liquid fire. Smooth, heavy, and far too refined for someone drinking out of sheer despair.
"Ahh," she winced, coughing. "Tastes like rich people and bad decisions."
║[SYSTEM] Main Event Countdown: 4 hours remaining until conclusion.║
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║[SYSTEM] Main Event Countdown: 3 hours remaining until conclusion.║
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Time slipped away, yet she didn’t care.
Her grip never loosened around the wine bottle.
By time the system announced its next update, the bottle was empty, and her stomach burned like acid.
She was half-tempted to vomit, but no, she refused to give the world that satisfaction.
She was furious. At everything. At herself. At this cursed world. At the novel and the puppets it called characters.
When she was a child, she used to hate the main villainess.
Agrona was cruel, ruthless, and heartless. But as she grew up, she realized she’d become her.
There’s a saying, isn’t there? When we’re young, we dream of being heroes. But as we age, we start to understand the villains.
It wasn’t some edgy epiphany, it was just the truth.
As the CEO of her company, she’d ruled with an iron will, a reputation carved in whispers: the sadistic boss, the tyrant no one dared to cross.
"Trust was for fools. Fear was reliable. Fear was safe."
And now, in this dying world, she finally understood Agrona completely. Because when you’ve lived your life powerless, when you’ve had to fight tooth and nail just to stay on the throne, you don’t chase glory.
You just try not to drown.
║[SYSTEM] Main Event Countdown: 2 hours remaining until conclusion.║
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║[SYSTEM] Main Event Countdown: 1 hours remaining until conclusion.║
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║[SYSTEM] Main Event Countdown: CONCLUDED.║
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║[SYSTEM] +50 Positive EXP —You have chosen not to interrupt the main event..║
"Fifty points... hurray..." Cressida mumbled, her words slurred as she tried to sit up.
The room swayed like a ship in a storm. Her arms trembled, her body feeling heavier than it should.
She laughed bitterly. "Agh... so it’s over, huh? The event’s over..."
The bottle slipped from her hand, rolling across the floor with a dull clink before resting near the foot of the desk.
Much to her dismay, the door opened.
It felt like as just another illusion, the kind her drunk mind loved to conjure. But there was an unmistakable scent of roses.
Agrona stepped in, face focused on her hand that held the doorknob as she closed it.
Even through the blur of wine and exhaustion, Cressida caught it, a fleeting crack in Agrona’s perfect mask by just a tremor of their lips.
Who would’ve thought?
That the cruel, immaculate villainess, the woman carved from marble and malice, could look human for even a second.