Chapter 1 - Why the Hell am I Raven Vidier?

Something cold and sticky slid down my face, jerking me awake. For one horrible second, I thought it was blood, and my heart slammed so hard it rattled my ribs. The room wavered around me, a smear of colours and shadows. I sucked in a shaky breath and tried to wipe the red liquid from my eyes.

My hand didn’t move.

That’s when I realised I was on my knees, one arm wrenched behind my back in a grip that felt built to snap bone.

A sharp yank tore through my shoulder. Pain cracked up my arm so brutally that I heard something pop.

A strangled sound broke from my throat. The shock burned away whatever haze was left in my head.

I blinked once. Twice. The world sharpened into view. I expected my dad’s lab, with cold metal tables, computer terminals, and half-finished sketches stuck to the walls, or my own room, buried under books and game cases. Instead, I stared at polished marble floors and dark wooden walls carved with patterns that looked too rich for me to even gaze upon. Tall arched windows opened onto a softly-lit garden, moonlight bleeding through in silver streaks.

My breath caught. I whipped my gaze around, trying to get a grip on this fever-dream of a place.

Where the fuck was I?

Scents danced around my nose, clawing at my throat. Everything smelled like roasted meat, candied fruit, and so much floral perfume it made my eyes water.

I’d dropped straight into a damn regency romance novel.

I glanced down and froze. A black dress clung to me, trimmed in crimson lace like someone had mugged a gothic doll and shoved me into her dress. I definitely didn’t own this. I didn’t do dresses, period.

A groan crawled out of me before I could stop it. Wake up. Please just wake up.

But the throbbing burn in my shoulder made it clear, I didn't need to pinch myself to realise this was real.

Despite the crowd hemming me in, the room felt suffocatingly silent. I could hear every jagged inhale I dragged into my lungs, my heartbeat thundering like it was trying to punch its way out.

What the hell was even happening?

I forced myself to look up, hoping for some kind of explanation, and instead met a pair of icy blue eyes staring down at me like I’d crawled out of a sewer and had the audacity to touch his polished shoes.

Great. Prince Charming was pissed.

His blond hair fell in that annoyingly perfect “I barely tried” way—rumpled just enough to look intentional, every strand in place. The dark blue suit he wore was so stiff it probably creaked when he breathed, and a long sword hung at his hip like it was the most normal accessory in the world.

In his arms, a girl clung to him. Trembling. Soft pink curls spilled forward, veiling most of her face, but the delicate shaking said enough. She looked like she’d shatter if someone breathed too hard.

“Do you know what you’ve been accused of?” he asked.

My heartbeat slammed against my ribs again. Hatred rolled off him, aimed directly at me. I opened my mouth to say I have no idea what’s going on—

Instead, my mouth betrayed me.

“Do you have any idea what you’re even doing?”

His eyes flew wide open. His nostrils flared in a very satisfying oh-no-she-didn’t moment. The pink-haired girl flinched, and he shoved her behind him as if I’d just tried to bite her.

Two more boys stepped forward, flanking him like backup dancers in an intimidation number. One had ash-blond hair streaked with white and eyes the colour of cold metal—pale blue, almost silver. The other was so pale he looked like he hadn’t seen sunlight in a decade, with black hair and eyes so dark they swallowed the light around them.

Before I could decide if they were here to scold me, stab me, or both, pain ripped through my arm again.

I twisted, as much as the lock on my arm allowed, and caught sight of the brute hauling me in place. Broad shoulders, sun-tanned skin, solid muscle packed into a red-haired frame. His reddish-brown eyes burned down at me, one hand digging into my wrist, the other pinning my shoulder like he wanted to staple me to the floor.

Yep. It looked like I was definitely public enemy number one.

“You.” The blond boy’s voice snapped like a whip, dragging my attention back to him. “You have been accused of bullying and threatening the kingdom’s saintess, Lillie Collier.”

My brain short-circuited at the sound of that name.

What the actual fu—

Recognition slammed into me so hard I almost forgot about the throbbing in my arm. No. No, no, no.

I stared at the trembling girl tucked behind him. Her golden eyes peeked through the fortress of boys surrounding her—wide, frightened, shining as if she’d stepped straight out of—

A memory flickered behind my eyes. A cold metal desk in Dad’s lab. My pencil dragging across paper. A sketch of a girl with soft curls, gentle features, the perfect fragile heroine.

“So, why Lillie?” Dad had asked, leaning over my shoulder.

I’d shrugged, casual. “Doesn’t it sound innocent? Total ‘protect me’ energy. The audience will eat it up.”

And now she was standing right in front of me.

My pulse roared in my ears. This couldn’t be real. Couldn’t. I tore my gaze back to Blond Prince Judgemental, opened my mouth to confirm my suspicions—

“Do you know who I am?”
Perfect. The bitch filter struck again. Fantastic timing, brain.

He didn’t even flinch. Or maybe he did, but it was hidden by the low, humourless laugh curling off his tongue. “Raven Vidier. A name that won’t save you from what you deserve.”

Snickers rippled through the crowd. Heat crawled up my neck. Every pair of eyes felt like they were peeling my skin back.

I needed out. Out of the chokehold, out of the ballroom, out of whatever twisted fanfic reality this was. Step one: deal with the medieval gorilla crushing my arm.

I twisted my head toward him. “Were you raised by a pig?”

He jerked like I’d slapped him. Surprise flickered for barely a heartbeat before rage swallowed it whole. “Don’t speak of my family, you—”

His fingers dug in, dragging my arm back again—but I moved first this time.

I leaned into his pull, throwing off his balance. His grip slipped just enough that I twisted, pivoted under his arm, and tore myself free. Pain flared down my shoulder, but adrenaline drowned most of it out.

I straightened, rubbing my wrist—already tender, already promising a bruised mess later. The brute stared like he couldn’t believe I’d escaped.

I darted my gaze around, ignoring the gawking crowd still surrounding me, and spotted the open double doors on the far end. I made for them, only to have ash-blond and pitch-black step in front of me, blocking the path with theatrical precision.

“Raven Vidier,” one of them said, voice dripping with disgust. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes so hard I looked at my own brain. “You have no authority to lay hands on a duke’s daughter.”

Both boys stiffened like I’d slapped them. Their gazes flicked toward Blond Prince Judgemental. After a tense beat, they both stepped aside—reluctant, glaring, but out of my way.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips. I turned just enough to catch the brute behind me in my peripheral vision. “Don’t worry. I’ll have plenty of chances to return the favour for this little stunt.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Yeah, no. I wasn’t sticking around to hear whatever nonsense he eventually worked up.

I strode for the doors and stepped into the night.

The moment I stepped outside, cool night air slapped my face, sharp enough to chase away the lingering heat of the ballroom. A cobblestone path stretched ahead, lit by warm lamps that cast soft halos across a garden so perfectly arranged it looked ripped from a fantasy artbook. Flowers in every colour crowded the beds, their sweet, powdery scent drifting around me. Hedges stood trimmed with military precision. Not a single weed. Not a single piece of litter.

Yep, I was definitely not at home anymore.

I stumbled forward, my dress brushing against my legs, the stones uneven under my shoes. Nothing here belonged to me—no high-rise apartments looming overhead, no grease-slicked roads, no neon signs selling protein bars and questionable reality dating shows. Just a maze of flowers and the hulking silhouette of some dark building in the distance.

My walk sped into a run before I even realised I’d moved. I didn’t stop until the path spat me into an open square. A fountain dominated the centre, water glinting under lamplight. Three more paths branched off into the garden like choices in a choose-your-own-nightmare game.

In the centre of the fountain, a stone king raised a sword triumphantly, his carved face eternally stern. His eyes bore down on me as if he were watching my every movement. Great. Some royal dipshit watching me meltdown. Exactly what I needed.

“Okay, Riley,” I muttered, breath shaking as I approached the fountain. “This just has to be a dream.”

Still, I leaned over the edge and stared into the dark water.

A stranger stared back.

White hair, long and messy, streaked with that same red goop from earlier, strands stuck to a face that definitely wasn’t mine. Vivid red eyes contrasted with pale, almost porcelain, skin.

“Fuck.” My hand slapped the water, shattering the reflection. “Why the hell am I Raven Vidier?”

As if the universe wanted to personally answer that, a sharp electronic beep pinged inside my skull.

I jerked in surprise and lost my footing entirely. I slipped off the fountain’s edge and plunged straight into the cold water.

Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

I shot upright, sputtering, scanning the garden to make sure no one had witnessed my graceful swan dive. The square was empty. Small mercies.

Then a voice—flat, genderless and mechanical—echoed through my head.

“Initiating v4.008.”

I jolted again and slid beneath the surface, slamming the back of my head against the rocky bottom. Stars burst behind my eyes. I clawed my way upright, coughing, only to freeze as glowing white numbers appeared dead-centre in my vision.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

“Welcome, Raven Vidier, to the Isekai Punishment Project.”