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Chapter 1
The Beginning
Wren
“Psst! Wren!” a familiar voice, laced with excitement, cut through my focus.
Shifting from the screen in front of me, I turned to see Sara, a close friend and colleague, poking her head inside the door. At gaining my undivided attention, she said, her eyes too bright and her voice too perky for such a late afternoon, “Have you seen the announcement on social media?”
“What announcement?” I asked.
Sara giggled in delight as she bounced into the room, as she always did whenever there was juicy news or gossip. Leaning over me, she took control of the mouse and hijacked my computer, minimizing the PowerPoint presentation I was working on. Next, the search engine popped up, and after a short furious typing, voila, there were a ton of articles and social media posts. Sara clicked on the first link.
Seeing the title of the novel series and the promotional poster at the top of the webpage, I nudged my glasses up the bridge of my nose and stared, wide eyes.
“Inferno Dreams is getting a live-action,” Sara said. “I can’t wait until it’s out. Look at the star-stud cast. Adam is so hot. He’s going to be Jared. I don’t think they’d ever get anyone better suited than him.”
Sara's fingers flew across the keyboard again, pulling up images that sent ripples through social media feeds. Adam McTavish's face filled the screen, his pale gold hair and amethyst eyes perfectly embodying Jared Abaddon.
Ah, Jared, the hero of the novel. Sara was right, no one was better suited than Adam McTavish as Jared Abaddon. As for the heroine…
“Vanessa Smith,” I said. “She’s in a few fantasy dramas.”
“Yeah, she did wonderful in the last few series,” Sara said. “She’s big at the moment. She’ll do great as Marissa Mallory. She’s your favorite character, right? Marissa Mallory.”
I said, “She’s yours. Not mine.”
“What? I thought Marissa is everyone’s favorite character in the novel,” Sara said, flabbergasted.
“That’s just your assumption,” I said. “Have you seen the fandom? There’s a poll and guess who’s at the top.”
“Jared?”
I chuckled. “Nope. Kaleb Wulfric. Apparently, it’s because he’s edgy. Maybe it’s because he’s a wolf shifter? I mean girls, you know, they’re into edgy werewolf boys, right? And he’s the only one in the novel series.”
Sara frowned. “He’s just Jared’s mad dog and not even one of the main characters. They’re not even posting the actor’s name for his role in the live-action.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “They’ll probably do that later. He’s what the readers like. Disappointment is going to be huge if the actor can’t portray him how the readers wanted. Ah, the power of fandom.”
“Who’s second?”
“Obviously, Darius the dragon,” I said.
It was Sara’s turn to snort. “Darius? That tyrant who destroyed half of Whitfall City just because?”
I chuckled. “He destroys a lot of cities just because. I mean he’s a villain.”
And villains in this story seemed to go about causing disaster without rhyme or reason. Ah, plot. It was indeed a crazy one in Inferno Dreams.
Sara scrolled through more images and news snippets. “Third?” she asked.
“Lewis Lenoir, the demon prince,” I said.
“Oh, now that I agree with,” Sara said. “The psycho villain. I wish he’d stalk me.” She sighed dreamily. “Tall, dark, and handsome. He’s such a daddy.” Her giddy laughter filled my tiny-shared office as she swayed from side to side like a teenager daydreaming about her celebrity crush.
I chuckled in amusement.
“You know I’m into baddy daddy, and psycho Lewis is the ultimate baddy daddy. Who’s number four?”
“Taranis Abner,” I said.
“Woo. Taranis.” Sara clasped her hands together and sighed dreamily at his name. “The hunk with a second male lead syndrome,” she said with mock tragedy. “I love Marissa, but she’s so not cool for leading him on. It breaks my heart because Marissa chooses Jared.” Sara frowned momentarily before perking up again. “I mean I understand since Jared is the hero of the novel.” Her voice trailed off as she scrolled down to see who would be playing Taranis Abner. “Who’s number five?”
“Obviously Marissa,” I said. “Sixth is Jared, seventh Stefan, eighth Isidore, ninth Nowell, and tenth Wilmon.”
A pause hung between us before Sara's gaze met mine again.
“The mains follow by the supporting characters,” she mused aloud before focusing on me with renewed curiosity. “What about you? Since Marissa isn’t your favorite character, then whose is it? Don’t tell me it’s Kaleb? OMG! Don’t tell me you’re into edgy werewolf boys, too?”
I couldn't help but chuckle at her dramatic flair.
"Of course not," I replied. "It's Wren Lee."
"Wren Lee?" Sara's expression morphed into disbelief as quickly as one turns a page in a book. "That spoiled brat who is so annoying every time she appears? Honestly, why?"
"Because we have the same name, I guess." My defense was half-hearted, even to me it sounded feeble. "She's just misunderstood."
"Okay," Sara drawled out with skepticism lacing her tone. "She's misunderstood. Yeah sure."
I couldn't resist defending my namesake further despite Sara's playful rolling eyes.
"Jared and his gang of noble elite hurt Marissa too," I insisted firmly. "They make her cry numerous times and leave her for dead at one point. Also, they plot murders and a massacre.”
Sara quirked an eyebrow at me as if weighing my words against her knowledge of Inferno Dreams' intricate plots and twisted characters' motives—both known for their uncanny ability to weave pain and pleasure that captivated millions worldwide.
“That’s different,” she said. “Besides, if the main character doesn’t suffer, they aren’t the main character. There’s a thing that’s called satisfaction when the heroine climbs to the top and overcomes the odds despite the disadvantages and drawbacks. It’s part of character growth. Also, those murders and that massacre are essential for plot.”
The upbeat music of one of my favorite songs sang out from my cellphone. Glancing at the caller ID flashing Mom, I felt a mixture of warmth and apprehension.
"Sorry, I gotta take this," I told Sara, gesturing at the phone.
“Yeah, okay. By the way, have a wonderful weekend,” Sara said and scooted out the door. “
Alone, I picked up the phone. Sliding the screen to accept the call, I greeted, “Hi, Mom.”
“Wren, sweetie, just want to remind you we have a dinner date this evening," Mom's voice bubbled through the line.
I chuckled and said, “I haven’t forgotten.”
Mom's next words danced around the room, light but laden with intent. “I know it’s late telling you, but we’ll be having guests."
“Guests, huh?” I leaned back in my chair, already suspecting where this conversation was heading.
“Yes. It’s an old friend and her son. You remember Toby, right? You two used to go to the same high school.”
There it was. The setup. My stomach tightened slightly at the memory of Toby—nice enough, but memories of my last heartbreak lingered like a shadow, darkening any thoughts of new romance.
“Mom, it’s great that we’re having guests coming for dinner, but I’ve already told you, I’m not ready.”
“All right, all right. I know, I know. This is just a dinner with family and friends. You never know, things might work out. Love is like that, isn’t it? It comes to you at the most unexpected moment.” She swiftly changed topics as if dodging a bullet. “Anyway, won’t you pick up a few things on your way over?”
I scribbled down a list as she recited it: fresh basil leaves, ripe tomatoes—ingredients that hinted at Italian cuisine for tonight's dinner.
“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled while checking off each item.
With her list completed and enthusiasm undimmed by my tepid response: “All right, see you soon then.”
“Yeah, see you soon,” I said. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” There was a muffle of another voice on her end—deeper, unmistakably Dad's timbre. “Your dad said he loves you and he can’t wait to see you. He complains it’s been months since you came over. Luke and Grace and Eve, too.”
“It’s because I’m busy. It’s a lot of work doing a master’s in science and tutoring the students, too. Tell Dad I love him, too.”
“I know it’s a lot of work. So don’t stress yourself out. Okay, see you soon.”
The call with Mom wrapped up with the usual maternal blend of affection and gentle prodding. I could almost hear the smile in her voice, the same one that would greet me when I stepped through the door later. She had a way of making even the most ordinary evenings feel like a special occasion.
I began to pack up, fingers tapping a steady rhythm on my desk as I shut down the computer. Books slid into my bag with practiced ease, but I paused when my hand brushed against the familiar spine of the first book in the Inferno Dreams series. Eve had been pestering me to bring it over for weeks now, claiming she needed an escape from the relentless pace of the ER.
With the book safely nestled among my notes and laptop, I couldn't help but think about Eve and her new job. She was brilliant, no doubt about that, but ER doctors lived in a world of constant chaos. My mind wandered to Luke and Grace next—Luke with his practical, analytical master carpenter's mind, and Grace with her vibrant fashion designs. Grace's pregnancy had brought so much joy to our family, it seemed like Mom and Dad had been waiting for this moment since Luke and Grace said "I do."
Satisfied that I hadn't forgotten anything, I slung my bag over my shoulder and left my office behind. The university campus was familiar territory, its buildings holding countless memories of late-night study sessions and breakthroughs both personal and academic.
The evening was cold and dreary, and as usual, the streets were busy and congested with crowds. I made my way to a nearby supermarket store, picking up each item on Mom's list with a mental note of their intended dishes. Basil for her famous tomato sauce, ripe tomatoes that would burst with flavor under a drizzle of olive oil... My cart filled quickly as I added wine, cheese, and other snacks—a little something for everyone in the family.
At the pedestrian crossing, laden with grocery bags heavy in each hand, I waited for the light to change. That was when it caught my eye—a billboard screen flashing an advertisement for Inferno Dreams' live-action drama. The costumes were a striking fusion of fantasy elements with touches of Victorian and Italian Renaissance flair. Adam McTavish as Jared Abaddon and Vanessa Smith as Marissa Mallory were front and center.
I stood transfixed by the video playing above me. It was as if a piece of my beloved book series had come to life before my eyes. My heart raced a little faster—whether from excitement or anticipation, I couldn't tell.
The ad ended, and it was only then did I realize just how dark it had gotten. The light was still flashing red along the pedestrian crossing when suddenly, I felt a hard shove.
I stumbled forward onto the road and clumsily fell on my hands and knees, hitting the ground, bags flying from my grasp as groceries spilled across the asphalt like a modern still life knocked askew. Packets of snacks and cheeses spilled over, and glass shattered—red wine spattered on the concrete and pooled around me like blood seeping from an unseen wound.
Concerning voices hummed around me, a few shouting—that frightened, alarming sort one used during an emergency. The urgent words echoing across the space eluded me as I couldn’t seem to find my baring, my ears ringing. A deafening honk came reverberating around me, and I lifted my head.
A car, a looming presence, advancing on me with unstoppable force. I froze, paralyzed. The world narrowed down to headlights bearing down like twin stars about to supernova.
Move! A voice echoed in my head. Move, Wren! I tried to follow the command, but it was too late. Within that split of a second, I felt the hit.
When I next fluttered my eyes open, I felt this horrendous pain coursing throughout my body, an electrifying agony that held me captive. My head felt like a hammer was constantly pounding on it, and the awareness of broken bones became my brutal reality.
I groaned as I tried to move, and it was then a face, pretty with a constellation of freckles dusting her cheeks, appeared above me. Her brow furrowed with concern as she spoke.
"You have awakened, my lady."
Confusion knotted within me. Why was she calling me my lady? Shouldn't she be calling for an ambulance? There had been an accident—a traffic accident—just moments ago.
She leaned over and patted a damp cloth over my forehead. “You’ve been unconscious for two days. You were having quite a fever. Are you thirsty?”
I was unconscious for two days? I was sure I had only just got hit by a car heading toward me on the road.
Thirsty? Yes, I was rather.
I managed a “Mm” and a nod of my head. My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper.
With a gentle touch, she helped me to sit up. Pain lanced through me, drawing a gasp that turned into an involuntary groan. She handed me something that looked suspiciously like tea.
I eyed the steaming cup warily but the parched desert of my throat urged me on. Bringing the cup to my lips, I drank like a kitten lapping milk for the first time—half eager, half afraid of the unfamiliar sensation.
The woman watched with a mix of amusement and relief dancing in her eyes before saying, “I will inform his and her grace immediately that you have awakened. They have been worried sick since his grace brought you home, all beaten up like that.”
Home? A flash of memory sparked—a dinner invitation from Mom. But this woman spoke as if I belonged to some sort of nobility with the his and her grace bit.
And where were my parents? More importantly, where was Eve? She should be here if I was in Crestview General Hospital. She was one of the doctors, after all.
As I tried to make sense of the woman's words, my gaze drifted around the room. It certainly didn't resemble any hospital ward I had ever seen or imagined. Instead, it boasted all the grandeur of a palace chamber—classy chandelier casting warm light over walls plastered in elegant wallpaper, luxurious furniture strategically placed on lavish rugs that spoke volumes about the wealth and taste of its owner.
I squinted at the decor around me, each opulent detail another twist in this hallucination wrought from medication—or so I assumed.
"Where... am I?" My voice croaked out as I tried to take in more details.
Wait, why did my voice sound so high pitched and soft? Was it because of the pain in my throat?
"Argyll Manor," she said patiently as if to a child just woken from sleep.
Argyll Manor? That name... it echoed with an eerie familiarity that tugged at my mind like déjà vu. My heart hammered against my ribcage—not solely from fear or pain but also from a growing sense of unreality that wrapped around me tighter than any bandage could.
"Why am I not at the hospital?" The question left my lips before I could stop it.
The woman's eyes widened slightly before they softened with empathy.
"Hospital?" She chuckled lightly as if I'd made a quaint joke. "Oh dear Lady Wren, we have our own healer who has tended to your injuries with utmost care."
Healer? This was becoming more bizarre by the second.
My gaze landed on her attire—the uniform was something out of historical dramas or fantasy novels—a crisp black and white ensemble completed with an apron that seemed both archaic and completely out of place in modern America.
"Are my parents here?" There was an urgency to know about their safety and presence, a desperate need for something familiar amidst this sea of strangeness.
"They are attending matters in Whitfall City but will return shortly," she answered with certainty that seemed odd given the context, or lack thereof, in my current state of mind.
Whitfall City... It clicked then—the capital city from Inferno Dreams where...
No way.
The possibility seared through me like wildfire. It couldn't be real. This had to be some sort of elaborate dream influenced by the book series or maybe even brain trauma from the accident playing tricks on my consciousness.
"Thank you," I murmured automatically, despite my mind racing with questions and doubts.
The maid gave a small curtsy, a graceful dip that felt completely out-of-place, and exited the room with swift steps as if eager to relay the news of my awakening.
Left alone in this palace-like bedroom, reality, or what passed for it, settled heavily upon me. If this was indeed Whitfall City from Inferno Dreams... If somehow by some impossible twist of fate I'd found myself transmigrated into Lady Wren's body...
No... No way... This couldn't be happening...
I sank back against plush pillows as the room seemed to sway around me—or maybe it was just my head spinning uncontrollably—unable to process this surreal turn of events that felt ripped straight from fiction's most tangled plots.
The door creaked open, a sliver of light from the corridor piercing the dimness of the room. Through it stepped the young woman who had tended to me, flanked by two figures whose presence seemed to command the very air.
The man's broad shoulders were draped in a coat that melded Renaissance opulence with Victorian austerity, while the woman wore a gown that could have graced any royal court from the pages of history—or, more specifically, from Inferno Dreams' live-action drama I'd glimpsed on that billboard.
The woman perched on the edge of my bed, her skirts whispering against the sheets, while the man leaned over with an air of gentle concern.
"How are you feeling, little one?" His voice was rich and warm, like a hearth on a winter's night.
Did he just call me little one?
"I’m glad you’re awake," the woman chimed in, her tone laced with genuine relief. "The healer said he wasn’t sure. You contracted an infection due to the wounds from the beating."
A beating? I knew I had been in an accident. A car was speeding toward me, that much was clear in my memory. Were they mistaken, or was I hallucinating this entire exchange?
To ground myself in some sort of reality, I reached out tentatively and brushed my fingers against her hair. It felt soft and real under my touch.
“She’s your mother now, Wren," the man added softly.
I turned to look at the man, and it was then my head throbbed with such intensity that I couldn't suppress a groan. Then came a deluge of memories—scenes and sensations that overwhelmed me with their clarity and emotion yet felt alien all at once. They rushed through me like a river bursting its banks, leaving me gasping for breath and grappling with confusion and fear.
Whose memories was that? It surely wasn’t mine, but every image seemed like it was from a first-person perspective.
“Mirror!” I managed to gasp out between shallow breaths. “Please give me a mirror.”
The man and woman exchanged glances laden with worry before the maid hurried to fetch an ornate hand mirror. "Here, my lady," she said as she held it before my eyes.
I stared into the glass, my heart racing as I braced for what I might see. The reflection showed not my own familiar features but those of a child with a face pinched by suffering and framed by dark hair.
Shock rooted me to the spot. This wasn't right. This couldn't be me.
“My lady, everything is going to be all right,” the maid reassured me gently.
The woman pulled me into an embrace that felt both comforting and foreign. “That’s right, the bruise will soon disappear, and you’ll completely be healed," she soothed as she stroked my hair. "You have no need to worry about anything. And don’t be afraid. We’re family now. The orphanage was harsh for little ones like you, but that will now change.”
Orphanage? Bruise? None of this made any sense. Yet her words carried an undeniable weight—the weight of truth within this bewildering reality.
“That’s right," the man agreed with conviction. "You’re a Lee now. Everything will be all right.”
Who were these people? Where was I? My mind spun faster than a carousel in full tilt as I tried to piece together this puzzle with missing edges and jumbled center.
The woman cupped my face in her hands and locked eyes with mine—a gaze so full of hope it almost hurt to look at her.
“Wren," she said softly but firmly, "I know it’ll take time but please call me Mama, all right?”
Mama? My mind reeled under the weight of that single word—a term so intimate yet so foreign in this context that it threatened to unravel what little grasp I had on reality.
I remained silent—shocked—my thoughts crashing against one another like waves during a storm.
Mama? Family? How could any of this be real when just moments ago—or was it days?—I had been Wren Lee: post-graduate student living in America?
As if sensing my inner turmoil, the woman continued to hold me close, her warmth enveloping me in a cocoon that seemed designed to shield me from whatever lay beyond this room's walls.
My thoughts scattered like leaves caught in an autumn gust—they whirled around without direction or sense as I tried to comprehend this surreal situation.
"Mama?" The word slipped out, a question rather than acknowledgment, a tiny sound amidst the thunderous confusion within me.
Genre tags: villainess, romance, fantasy, romantasy, reverse harem, revenge, kingdom-building, regression, transmigration, reincarnation, time travel, magic & monster, action & adventure, isekai, josei, shoujo, free online novel
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