Chapter 1 - Isekai Punishment Project

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The faint sound of liquide dripping onto marble pulls me from the dark. My eyes crack open, just a sliver, as something sweet trickles into my mouth. For a wild second, I think it’s blood and my eyes shoot fully open, no sense of drowsiness remaining.

The world blurs for a moment and all I can see are hazy shapes before it sharpens to see a girl’s face just inches away from mine. Her long raven curls looking perfect as it cascades down her back, big hazel eyes and porcelain cheeks puffed up and splotched with red as she screams something I can’t make out through the ringing in my ears.

The first thought to hit me is, ‘Oh great, I got into a fight with a doll.’  I try to stifle a yawn, without any success.

Obviously not liking my reaction, her movements grow wilder as she shakes an empty glass in my face.

Okay, so that’s what I’m drenched in. Not blood, but whatever the hell she was drinking. Relief bubbles up as a giggle escapes my lips. At least this isn’t some Carrie knock-off moment. Though with all the people in fine suits and dresses that look like they’re at some kind of ball gawking and Miss Doll screaming at the top of her lungs, I half expect that I’ve grown a third eye and extra limbs. My hand moves to my face just to check, but then I freeze.

No, I haven’t grown a third eye, but the face I feel is not mine. I run my hands down my smooth skin, through my long, silky hair, it all feels alien to me.

That makes me think. Where the hell am I?

The last thing I remember is… I squeeze my eyes close and try to concentrate, my heart pounding and breathing turning ragged as I can’t remember what I was doing. I remember leaving school, getting home, but that is the last memory I have.

The girl in front of me obviously doesn’t like my momentary crisis as she starts jabbing the glass into my chest. The ringing in my ears only intensifies still not letting me hear what she’s saying.

“Just wait,” I say, putting my hand on the glass to stop her attempt at assault. I jab a finger into my ear and try to clear out my blocked ears.

Finally the ringing dies down and the sounds of soft stringed music fills my ears, as well as a high-pitched screeching voice that’s coming from the girl in front of me.

“…are you, you ignorant witch, curse, devil girl,” the girl screeches.

I have to force myself not to laugh again. Seriously, were those supposed to be insults? My little sister was past that kind of insult when she was four.

“Are you even listening to me,” the girl huffs, her nostrils flaring like she’s just moments off from turning into a bull.

“Um… who are you?” I ask flatly.

She sputters, her fingers digging into the glass, looking like she’s about to smash it into my face. But before she has a chance to act on anything, a white-gloved hand clamps around her shoulder and she instantly straightens up and a smile spreads across her face.

“You don’t have to lower yourself to the rabble, Lavinia,” the owner of the gloved hand says. He looks seventeen, maybe eighteen, with blond hair tousled into that annoyingly perfect style that says he either rolled out of bed like that or had servants making it look like he did. His green eyes cut to me, sharp and cold, the easy smile on his face collapsing into something hard. Dark blue trousers trimmed in gold and a matching vest over a crisp white shirt mark him as important. I’ve never seen him before, but one thing is obvious—he already hates me. “Leanan Viermont leave immediately or I’ll use my authority to expel you from the academy.”

I open my mouth to snap back… but then freeze as a cold shiver rushes through me.

“What did you just call me?” I ask, unable to keep my voice calm.

He snarls, “Leanan Viermont I am talking to you.”

No, no, no… The name slams into me like a punch to the gut. It can’t be.

My gaze darts around, panic clawing up my throat. I’m standing in the middle of a ballroom so pompous it could cost as much as a small country. Dark wooden walls surround me with arched windows stretching high enough to scrape the ceiling, their glass reflecting nothing but pitch-black night outside. Above, crystal chandeliers sway, scattering fractured rainbows across the marble floor.

Dozens of people circle me, their gazes full of hostility and hatred – glad to know I’m so liked in this room. Boys in tailored suits and girls drowning in their brightly coloured gowns that are full of too much lace and frills that I’m surprised they can walk in them without tripping.

My heart races and lungs ache as I try to take steady breaths. Scents of florals, spices and something sweet dance around my nostrils, mixing with the spilled wine still dripping from my hair. I don’t care who they are, I just want out of this room. Out of this nightmare. My gaze stops on the double doors across the room that stood open, revealing the garden lit by soft torches outside.

I try to stop my legs from shaking as I push through the crowd, seeking the exit.

Just as I pass by the arrogant boy he grabs my shoulder. “Did I give you permission to leave.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snarl. “You told me to leave.” I peel his hand off my shoulder and shoot him the coldest look I can muster. “And if you ever grab me again I’ll make sure it’s hard for you to ever reproduce.”

The boy quickly pulls his hand back and subtly lowers it to protect a certain organ, but I’m not concerned about his manhood at the moment. I force my legs to move towards the open doors, not stopping until a cold rush of wind hits me in the face as I make it outside.

Once I’m outside, I don’t stop. My legs carry me forward with a certainty that isn’t mine. Nothing looks familiar, yet I move as if I’ve walked this path a thousand times.

I cut through a garden where torches flicker along a winding stone path, their flames bending in the wind. Ivy coils up the walls of a looming brick building, white flowers blooming pale and ghostlike in the dark. Tall spires claw at the sky, black against black.

I don’t hesitate. I shove through the doors and race inside, boots pounding against the polished floor. The staircase rises before me and I’m flying up, two steps at a time, lungs burning, heart hammering. Third floor. End of the corridor.

I don’t question how I know. My hand closes around the handle of the last door, and even before it turns beneath my grip, I’m certain. This is my room.

The door swings open and I’m greeted by a girl, no older than fifteen, as she stares at me. Her long brown hair is yanked into a messy bun, stray strands falling in front of her wide, startled eyes. Freckles scatter across her nose, bunching together as she scrunches her nose.

“My lady, you’re back ear—” Her words fall off, her voice cracking. “What… what happened to you?”

She edges forward a step, then hesitates, as if she’s trying to convince herself I won’t bite. Maybe biting is how I normally greet people. How would I know, when I don’t even know who the hell I am right now?

I drag my gaze away from her and scan the room. A massive bed takes up most of the far wall, draped in a crimson duvet. A claw-foot wardrobe looms opposite, and beside it a dressing table waits, crowned with a tall vanity mirror. My pulse jumps. That’s exactly what I need.

I stumble across the room, forcing my legs not to collapse beneath me, and grasp the hard wooden edge of the table as I drop into the seat in front.

“Just look,” I mutter, trying to slow my heart that feels like it’s about to break free from its cage. “It’s only a reflection, nothing to be scared of.”

I take to studying the table’s clutter—not because I’m stalling or anything. An ivory-handled brush, pots of powders and creams, bottles that reek of flowers and something sweet. My already pale hands leech whiter as I clutch the corners of the table, snaking up my hands.

“My lady, are you… are you all right?” the girl whispers behind me. She was so quiet that I’d almost forgotten she was here.

“Fine,” I huff out in one long breath, then force my eyes up.

The moment my gaze lands on the mirror I almost choke. The face staring back is not mine. White hair clings to my pale face, stained pink by the punch that had dried. Eyes, sharp and crimson, stare back with a cruel detachment. Lips painted the colour of fresh berries. A gown, trimmed with purple lace, clings to a thin frame that isn’t mine.

My stomach twists as reality hits me. Crap. No. Not her.

Leanan Viermont. A villainess father wrote into existence for the most heinous of criminals to suffer through. She was built to suffer, built to be hated, built to die, all for the entertainment of the viewers.

A chime sounds, echoing through my skull. I flinch, but the girl behind me doesn’t react as if she doesn’t hear it.

Then a voice sounds, neither sounding male or female, speaking in a mechanical way. “Welcome v.0429. You have been found guilty of patricide and have been sentenced to the Isekai Punishment Project. Your role is that of Leanan Viermont, Villainess of the Kaedania Magic Academy. Let the simulation begin.”