The moment I woke up and realized I had been reincarnated as the “villainess,” my high heel was already digging into the hero’s abdomen. I jerked my foot back, trembling with guilt. “Look, I can explain! I want us to be—” The boy before me, cold and distant, slowly unzipped his blue-and-white varsity jacket. His eyes were downcast, his voice a low whisper. “Princess, I brought a box.” I scrambled to finish my sentence: “To be… to be best friends for life!!” The boy froze for two seconds. He gritted his teeth and pulled a square object from his pocket. “I brought you a box of… Choco Pies.” 1 The second my memories flooded back, my heel was grinding into Caleb’s stomach. I wasn't holding back. I could see the deep red mark left on his pale skin. Caleb let out a muffled groan, the veins in his neck bulging from the pain. He was kneeling by the bed, his varsity jacket hanging open, revealing his sharp collarbones and the faint, defined lines of his abs. His long, pale fingers rested on his buttons, undoing them one by one. His eyes were cold, yet his skin was flushed with a strange, feverish pink. He looked like a masterpiece of repressed desire. I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face, and Caleb had been the most beautiful boy in any room since we were kids. He was an orphan; I’d spotted him at the shelter years ago and threw a literal temper tantrum until my dad agreed to sponsor him. From that day on, Caleb moved into the Sterling estate. I was a brat back then. I demanded that he only have eyes for me. I forced him to revolve his entire world around my whims. When I went through my rebellious phase and refused to go to school, Caleb was forced to stay back a year just to keep me company at home. Caleb obeyed my every command, but he never initiated contact. I always thought it was just his personality. I thought I had him figured out—which is why I had been planning to force myself on him tonight. I didn't realize until this exact moment: I was the villainess. And in this story, the hero is destined to loathe me. Thinking back on a decade of my own entitled, reckless behavior, my vision went black. I shakily retracted my leg. Caleb looked up at me, his gaze dark and unreadable. “Princess?” Trying to play it cool, I knelt down and frantically tried to zip his jacket back up. My fingertips brushed against his warm skin, and I flinched as if I’d been electrocuted. “I—I’ve made a decision,” I said, clearing my throat and trying to sound sincere. “Caleb, I want us to be—” He reached into his pocket. The fabric of his jeans outlined the shape of a small, square box. “Princess,” he interrupted, “I brought a box.” I blurted out my finish: “BEST FRIENDS FOREVER!” The air in the room turned to ice. Caleb’s hand froze in his pocket. He didn't pull the box out. After a long silence, he slowly looked up. Something dark and heavy settled in his eyes. “Choco Pies,” he said flatly. I patted his shoulder with fake enthusiasm, acting relieved. “I knew it! You really are my best friend. We’re totally on the same wavelength.” Caleb stood up slowly, straightening his clothes until he looked like the perfect, untouchable honors student again. “Princess, today is your eighteenth birthday. You specifically called me to your room just to tell me… that?” I forced myself to nod. I didn't know why, but his expression seemed to get even colder, as if a layer of frost had settled over him. Right. This is good, I thought. Keep the distance. Fix the relationship. I added helpfully, “From now on, you don’t have to follow me around 24/7. You don’t have to come every time I call. I’m an adult now. It’s time I learned some independence.” Caleb stepped closer. He was a good head taller than me, and his shadow swallowed me whole. “Fine.” “Great! Go get some rest then.” “You don’t want your bedtime story?” “Nope! No more. I was being a brat before. I’m sorry for being such a hassle.” He stood silent for a few seconds, then turned toward the door. As he passed my vanity, his arm “accidentally” clipped a glass of water on the edge of the table. Clatter. The glass flipped, drenching him. His thin white t-shirt became instant-transparent, clinging to his skin and tracing every muscle of his torso. Water droplets slid down his hip bones and disappeared into his waistband. I subconsciously swallowed. Caleb turned to face me, tugging at the hem of his shirt. The fabric clung even tighter. “Princess, where are the napkins?” “Oh? They’re… right there…” “Could you help me dry off?” God, he looks so good. I want to touch. If this were yesterday, my inner predator would have pounced. But now, I forced myself to look away. “Men and women should keep their boundaries, Caleb. You… you should go to your room and change.” Caleb didn't say anything. But I could feel his gaze heavy on my face, weighing me down like an interrogation. After a few beats, he finally moved. His hand lingered on the doorknob. “Princess,” he said softly. “Goodnight.” 2 The next day in class, I was leaning my head on my hand, contemplating my bleak future. The teacher tapped the whiteboard. “Everyone, listen up. We have a new transfer student. Meet Silas Vance.” The classroom erupted into whispers. “Holy crap, he’s gorgeous.” “He’s on the same level as Caleb.” “I heard he’s here on a scholarship from a rural town. Poor, but a genius.” “Wow, the classic ‘Poor but Hot’ protagonist trope?” The keywords hit me like a physical blow. I sat up straight. I realized my "awakening" was incomplete. Last night, only a general plot had entered my head—I didn't have a list of names. The "story" said I would fall for a poor but beautiful hero and try to own him by force. He would endure my abuse until he became successful, then he’d reunite with the "poor but kind" Female Lead and ruin me. I had assumed Caleb was that guy. But now, looking at Silas, I realized the world was full of handsome, struggling guys. With my personality, it was entirely possible I’d move on to the next hot guy eventually. To be safe, I had to cast a wide net. I needed to stay on the good side of every potential protagonist. I whipped out my phone and texted my dad: “Dad! I have a brilliant plan. I’m going to sponsor every poor but talented guy I find. I’m feeling charitable. You won't say no, right?” My dad replied instantly: “Sweetie, starting a harem is illegal. Didn’t you get the memo? Isn’t Caleb enough of a handful for you? And besides… is your heart strong enough for that many guys??” Before I could reply, a shadow fell over my desk. Silas Vance was standing over me, looking down with eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief. “Mind if I sit here?” I had originally shared a desk with Caleb, but to "detox" myself from my dependency on him, I had made Caleb move this morning. I nodded instinctively. I hadn't looked at Silas closely before, but up close, the class gossip was an understatement. He smirked at me, his voice smooth as silk. “Looking forward to working with you, neighbor.” The mole under his eye seemed to dance in the sunlight. I felt my face heating up. Just as I was about to say something, I felt a heavy, piercing stare from across the room. I looked over. Caleb was watching me, his dark eyes unreadable. Silas tilted his head, perfectly blocking Caleb’s line of sight. “Is something wrong?” Silas asked softly. “You look a little flushed.” I waved my hand dismissively. “No, nothing. I’m fine.” 3 The Charity Fund was set up, the company risks were mostly cleared, and I finally felt like I could breathe. I made it back to my apartment near campus before dark. I pushed the door open to find the place in total darkness. The neon lights of the city bled through the window, outlining Caleb’s lean, tall silhouette. He sat there silently, like a statue with no heat. “Why are the lights off?” I asked tentatively. “Is everything okay?” He didn't answer. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. I put my bag down and tried to walk past him. “So you finally decided to come home.” His voice was strained, vibrating with something he was trying to hold back. “I’ve been busy with important stuff,” I explained lamely. I tried to go to my room, but he grabbed my wrist. His skin was ice cold. Caleb looked at me, emotions swirling in his eyes. “Busy with what?” He let out a sharp, cold scoff. His grip tightened. “Spending every day with that transfer student? Is he the most important thing in your world now?” “Silas? I’m just processing his scholarship paperwork. He fits the Sterling Fund criteria—” “You’re sponsoring him too?” Caleb interrupted, his brow furrowed. “What’s next? Are you going to move him in? Just like you did with me?” He took a step closer. I backed up until I hit the cold wall. “Caleb, calm down.” I tried to pull away, but his hand was trembling. “Calm?” He laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Princess, you’ve been avoiding me for a month. You made me switch seats so you could sit with Silas. Why?” My skin crawled. “What do you mean?” “Why won't you look at me the way you used to?” His breath was on my face now, smelling of the crisp, clean scent he always had, but now it felt scorching. “Like you have for the last ten years.” He slammed his other hand against the wall by my ear, pinning me. In the dark, he was so close I could see the quiver in his eyelashes and the desperate, almost pathological possessiveness in his eyes. “Caleb,” I tried to bluff. “I’m not avoiding you. We’re still the same.” “The same?” He twisted his lips into a smirk, his eyes suddenly rimmed with red. “Then tell me. Do you love me the most?” My brain short-circuited. He went through all this drama just to get me to say I love him best? I didn't have time to overthink. “Of course!” I said, sweating. “We’re best friends, aren't we?” 4 The moment the words left my lips, Caleb’s expression went stone cold. He looked at me like I was a prey animal trying to act clever. “Best friends.” He repeated the words, enunciating every syllable. Then, he let go of my wrist. Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, I saw his hands go to his collar. He ripped it open. The moonlight hit his collarbones, making them look dangerously sharp. He pulled the collar down further, revealing a black leather choker around his neck. I froze. That was the "gift" I had been planning to give him on my birthday before I "woke up." “Caleb, what are you doing—” He stepped forward, pressing his body flush against mine. I could feel his heat through my shirt. My breath hitched. “Best friends?” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. His voice was low and hoarse. “Do you think a ‘best friend’ wants to do this?” He grabbed my hand and pressed it hard against his chest. Under my palm, his heart was thumping like a drum—heavy, fast, erratic. “Does a friend feel like this?” He guided my hand down, over the hard planes of his abs, stopping right at the line of his waistband. I tried to pull back, but he held me there with terrifying strength. “Princess.” He looked down at me, his eyes overflowing with raw, naked desire. “You’re the one who taught me to be your dog.” “Now you want me to be a ‘friend’? That’s not fair.” I felt like I was seeing Caleb for the first time. The cold, obedient honors student was just a mask. “Caleb, we can’t be like this!” His pupils constricted. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Why?” “Why can’t we?” “Why don’t you want me anymore?” I couldn't explain the "plot" to him. But I knew I couldn't just stay silent, or he’d keep digging. I took a deep breath and put on my best "annoyed princess" face. “You ask too many questions. I’ll give you one answer. One. Ask it, and then never bother me about this again.” A long silence followed. Finally, as if making a life-altering decision, Caleb looked me in the eye. “I want to know if the Princess ever cries.” I blinked, confused. “I… of course I cry…” Caleb smirked, leaning in until our noses touched. “I mean… I want to know if I can make you cry.”
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