Chapter 1
In romance novels, the moment the female lead asks for a divorce is when the love story truly begins.
The male lead reveals his possessiveness and obsession, clinging desperately and insisting that divorce is the one thing he will never allow.
I never wished for anything like that, and I thought it was something that could never happen to me.
I wasn’t the female lead—and my husband, Damon Craig, certainly wasn’t the male lead either.
We were villainous supporting characters. A villain couple.
Damon perfectly embodied everything people imagine when they hear the word villain.
An incarnation of revenge. Cold-blooded. A man who spat out cutting words every time he opened his mouth. Someone who used people like chess pieces, utterly selfish, incapable of mercy or consideration. A man who favored jet-black leather and moved mostly under the cover of night—everything you’d expect.
Clarissa, the original owner of this body, loved the bad man Damon with all her heart—and died after taking the blame for murder in his place.
Good grief. Throwing away your life for love? She had to be insane.
That’s what I thought when I first read the original novel.
After possessing Clarissa’s body, though, I understood her feelings—at least a little.
Damon was a devastatingly sexy villain, a walking fashion spread, a strikingly handsome man who made your eyes widen the moment you saw him. And on top of that, he was filthy rich.
Even so, I couldn’t live with a villain husband when my life itself might be in danger.
I came to my senses immediately and decided to get a divorce.
Damon didn’t accept my request easily at first. He claimed divorce would interfere with his revenge plans.
But he didn’t show possessiveness toward me, nor obsession, nor did he beg for forgiveness or promise to change.
After a reasonable amount of bickering, the day we were finally supposed to divorce arrived.
Because I was set to receive a hefty alimony payment, I hummed cheerfully as I headed toward the drawing room.
Damon, who had arrived earlier, was staring blankly into space before slowly turning his gaze toward me. The moment our eyes met, my body stiffened.
Why is he looking at me like that?
His gaze felt unfamiliar. He scanned me from head to toe like I was a complete stranger, and then his golden eyes began to shake violently.
Is he angry?
It felt different from the anger I’d seen countless times before.
Feeling uneasy, I sat down and immediately pulled out the divorce papers.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you stamped them first?”
Damon didn’t answer. He just stared at me, breathing roughly.
What’s wrong with him? That’s scary…
I hurriedly took out my family seal.
“I’ll stamp it first, then. Let’s not turn this into a battle of pride over who goes first.”
I laid the divorce papers neatly on the table and moved the seal toward the signature line.
At that moment, Damon reached out, slid the papers toward himself—and tore them cleanly in half.
“Damon! W-What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Clarissa.”
“Hiiik! Wh-Why are you calling me like th-that—”
I couldn’t even finish my sentence before shock overwhelmed me.
His gaze was beyond desperate—it was frantic. As if he would do anything to keep me, his golden eyes burned with fierce obsession.
“I cannot agree to this divorce. You are the savior of my life.”
Why was the man who treated his wife worse than a foot rag suddenly speaking politely? And why was he backing out of the divorce now?!
“You think I’ll just back down because you say no at this point? Miranda! Bring glue. We’ll need to put the papers back together.”
“I will not divorce you.”
“That’s your opinion. Leave this house immediately, just like we agreed! That was the deal!”
I screamed until my face turned red with rage.
Damon ignored my outburst, stood up from his chair, and walked toward me.
Then—he collapsed in front of me, dropped to his knees, and bowed his head.
“I’m sorry. Truly… I’m sorry, Clarissa.”
“Y-You’ve lost your mind.”
“You may curse me even more. You may hit me—I won’t avoid it. Please, just let me remain your husband.”
His trembling voice was filled with unbearable regret and remorse.
Unable to comprehend what was happening, I clutched the hem of my dress and glared at Damon.
He grabbed my hand and buried his face into it.
Soon, his shoulders began to shake, and the back of my hand grew damp.
Hot tears streamed from Damon’s eyes, dripping onto the floor.
This was insane.
I was just a romance-fantasy novel reader.
I’d enjoyed stories with possession and regression until I grew tired of them and switched entirely to fantasy without reincarnation or transmigration.
The Seventh Son of the Duke was a coming-of-age story about a bastard child named Ian who became a holy knight and saved the empire from evil.
Despite having almost no romance, it had many female readers—because of the sexy villain Damon.
But as the story progressed, this tragic villain grew so cruel and relentless in his crimes that he became unbearable.
Naturally, many fans turned their backs on him.
I didn’t.
Living as an orphan, juggling two part-time jobs a day, crushed by the world—Damon was practically my idol.
He was powerful and resolute, able to wield both the supernatural abilities inherited from his biological father, Count Rochen, and the magic taught by his adoptive father, Baron Craig.
Watching him ruthlessly eliminate those who tried to stop his revenge gave someone like me—who lived timidly—a sense of catharsis.
But I was conflicted when Damon allowed Clarissa’s death to happen.
Her death was too horrific. Too pitiful.
—Clarissa confessed to killing Duke Laction and poisoned herself. She died before reaching the execution grounds, venom spreading through her entire body. Even so, the judge ordered her corpse to be brought to the guillotine, and her already-dead head was severed.
The comments section overflowed with readers cursing Damon.
You killed Duke Laction, Damon! And you just watched Clarissa die?! You’re a real villain!
He’s worse than Duke Laction. Please kill Damon already, author.
Clarissa is so pitiful. Don’t write from Damon’s POV anymore. I don’t want to read it.
Conflicted, I left a comment defending Damon.
Did Damon ever promise to love her? Did he ever ask her to take the blame? He was honest. “I will use you. I’m marrying you because you have value. Don’t expect love.” Clarissa died because she wanted his attention and things went wrong.
My comment was flooded with dislikes, but I didn’t delete it.
“If I were Clarissa, I would’ve seduced Damon, made him give up revenge, and lived a cozy married life instead.”
If he refused to listen, I’d just squeeze him for alimony and divorce.
I turned off my phone and began closing the convenience store.
I worked at a pork stew restaurant during the day and at the convenience store at night, yet money was still tight.
Back when I lived in the orphanage dorms, I’d been able to save some.
“Why is the maintenance fee so high for a shoebox-sized studio?”
Grumbling, I finished closing and stepped outside to see if my replacement had arrived.
At that moment, a blinding light poured down, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
When I opened them again, I was standing blankly beneath a dazzling chandelier.
Music filled my ears, and I heard soft laughter whispering nearby.
Turning my head, I saw a woman in a lavish dress fluttering her fan while glancing at me.
Where is this? Who am I?
I’d never been here before.
A vast, ornate hall with a high ceiling painted with angels.
At its center stood a marble fountain, a golden angel pouring water from above.
“Whoa… what is this?”
I’d only stepped outside the convenience store—how did I end up in another world?!
Did the store door just become Platform 9¾ or something?
Feeling dizzy, I flailed my hands and grabbed onto something beside me.
Clutching smooth silk fabric tightly to steady myself, I slowly lifted my head.
Glossy black hair. Dazzling golden eyes glaring straight through me.
“Let go.”
His low voice pierced me with a chill.
Startled by his icy gaze, I gripped his arm even tighter.
The man flung my hand away as if it were filthy.
“I said let go, Clarissa.”
Clarissa?
Had I possessed a novel character?
My vision spun, and Clarissa’s memories rushed through my mind.
“Damon?”
The unfamiliar language that escaped my lips sounded tender and desperate.
“Don’t talk to me. Do you think I came to this party to entertain you?”
That rude, frigid tone.
The man before me—the sexy villain Damon he’d cherished so fiercely?!
I made finger hearts at Damon, who was scowling like he’d bitten something bitter.
Excuse me, sir—I’m actually your fan?
He looked utterly fed up, turned sharply, and walked away.
“How can even the way he gets angry be so attractive?”
A shiver unlike anything I’d imagined while reading the novel ran through me.
It was pure shock.
Damon was flawless—like a beautiful statue.
The novel had emphasized his looks, but no description could capture this level of sexiness and dizzying allure.
Black hair, golden eyes—and an impeccable physique.
Long limbs, tightly packed muscles forming a sensual silhouette with every movement.
That cold beauty is my husband.
Already married. Already knew the plot.
Winning Damon over didn’t seem all that difficult.
Just avoid what he hated and do what he liked.
The problem was—what he liked were things a villain’s wife would do.
And if I helped him with my knowledge of the story, his downfall would come even faster.
Which meant the day poison would be forced down my throat would come sooner, too.
I have to find a way. A way to live well with Damon.
But the more I tried, the more Damon distanced himself.
Arrogant. Twisted. Spitting venom every time he spoke.
He didn’t even listen when I gave advice.
“Damon. Why don’t we forget revenge and make a baby instead?”
In the end, I decided this was my last resort—and clung to him.
