Chapter 1: Waking up as the Villainess at the End of the Game

It was the most cliché story imaginable.

The villainess bullies the heroine. The heroine wins the prince. The villainess gets expelled, disowned, and thrown out like yesterday’s trash.

Violetta Monet had been that villainess.

Eldest daughter of Duke Monet. Crown prince’s fiancée since childhood. Beautiful, arrogant, spoiled—the full noble package.

And, naturally, doomed.

Prince Philip had fallen in love with Diana Dane, the kingdom’s newest marvel. A commoner girl, yet the first mage in two centuries capable of wielding all four elements. A once-in-a-generation genius. A protagonist, through and through.

Violetta, driven by jealousy, bullied her.

And for that, she lost everything.

Expelled from the Royal Academy. Stripped of her status. Exiled from the kingdom itself.

For the new Violetta, however, that logic made absolutely no sense.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, memories that weren’t hers settling uneasily into place.

A duke’s daughter… punished like that? Over a commoner?

Even now, it sounded absurd.

“Well,” she muttered to herself, voice dry, “guess that’s protagonist privilege for you.”

Then the air in front of her flickered.

[Congratulations! You died and were selected as the new host for the Ecchi System!]

Violetta blinked.

Once.

Twice.

The glowing text didn’t go away.

The remnants of the original Violetta’s memories faded further into the background as she read the sentence again. And again.

“…Ecchi System?” she repeated slowly.

Her expression went flat.

“Ecchi. As in that ecchi?”

A pause.

Then, very seriously—

“Okay. God, Satan, random cosmic troll… don’t do this to me.”

[Indeed! A system that makes you stronger the more ecchi acts are committed by, or influenced by you.]

There was a long, silent moment.

Then the system continued, cheerfully launching into a detailed explanation.

Violetta did not hear most of it.

Something inside her quietly got up, walked out, and refused to come back.

Probably her sanity.

(“Sayonara, dearest Vivi. Have fun!”)

“I died at twenty-five,” she whispered hoarsely. “Without even kissing anyone…”

And now this.

“… Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“This is punishment,” she decided. “Divine punishment. Or entertainment for some sick higher being.”

A new window popped up.

[Profile]
Name: Violetta Monet (?)
Level: 1 (0/1000 XP)
Age: 17
Species: Human (?)
Height: 172 cm
Weight: 57 kg
Measurements: B88 / W56 / H84
Legal Status: Virgin

Stats:
STR: 10
DEX: 13
CON: 12
INT: 13
WIS: 11
CHA: 13

Skills:
Swordsmanship I – Lv. 5
Wind Magic I – Lv. 7
Negotiation I – Lv. 4
Etiquette II – Lv. 6
Persuasion I – Lv. 2
Intimidation I – Lv. 4
Drawing I – Lv. 8
Writing I – Lv. 7

She stared at it.

Then deliberately ignored the measurements and “legal status”.

“Okay. Stats first.”

For a spoiled noble, this was… actually pretty solid.

Original Violetta hadn’t been useless. Not a genius, but comfortably above average. The kind of student who never failed, but never impressed either.

The skills told a more interesting story.

Swordsmanship, wind magic, and etiquette clearly belonged to the original Violetta.

Drawing and writing were hers. Years of fanart and fanfiction finally paying off.

Skill-wise, at least. Definitely not career-wise.

She tilted her head slightly.

“Intimidation?” she murmured.

She had never thought of herself that way… but her friends had once told her she had a resting bitch face.

“…Fair enough.”

Persuasion and negotiation made less sense. Neither version of her had exactly been smooth with words. One was an introvert; the other just had status doing the work for her.

A weird mix, then.

Two lives, merged into one slightly dysfunctional whole.

She frowned at the interface again.

“What do the ‘I’ and ‘II’ mean?”

[They indicate the rank of the skill. Skills are categorized as follows:
I: Common
II: Uncommon
III: Rare
IV: Epic
V: Legendary
VI: Mythic
VII: Divine

Common skills are basic abilities, but should not be underestimated. Most can be upgraded to Uncommon with training. Many individuals can reach Rare, and a select few may attain Epic.Higher ranks are exceptional, achieved by only a handful of individuals. ]

“So my skills aren’t as impressive as I thought,” she muttered.

With the exception of Etiquette, all her skills were Common. The Uncommon rank on Etiquette was… oddly specific.

It also raised a question.

How many different skill paths even exist?

Could someone become overpowered with something like Etiquette?

Maybe some bard-type character who talked their way out of every situation. That would actually be a fun story.

…Not that she’d ever find out.

The internet was very much out of reach now.

Violetta swung her legs off the bed and stood.

Then paused.

“…Wow.”

The room was nice.

Not royal-palace nice, but definitely nice. Polished wood, thick carpets, heavy drapes—everything about it whispered expensive.

She crossed the room, stopping before a full-length mirror.

The girl who stared back at her did not belong to Earth.

Violet hair. Violet eyes.

Not dyed. Not contacts.

Natural.

“Well,” she said slowly, studying her reflection, “the name wasn’t subtle.”

Her inherited memories had already told her as much, but seeing it herself was different. Unsettling and kind of cool.

Back home, even unusual eye colors were rare. Here, vivid hues—hair, eyes, even entirely different species—were normal.

Which made something else stand out.

“Species: Human… with a question mark.”

She frowned.

“And the same for my name.”

A pause.

“… Yeah, that’s not sus at all.”

She sighed.

“There’s definitely some hidden backstory here. Something dramatic. Probably world-shaking if I am unlucky.”

Another sigh, heavier this time.

“Fantastic.”

Reality returned with a vengeance as she looked around the room.

A luxury hotel.

And her current net worth?

“Sixty liras,” she muttered.

She paused.

“…Wasn’t it a hundred?”

A memory surfaced: original Violetta, paying forty liras for the room without hesitation.

“…Forty for one night.”

She closed her eyes briefly.

Her fingers twitched.

“I had a hundred,” she continued, voice dangerously calm.

A pause.

“Had.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Exiled. Disowned. And the first thing you do,” she muttered, as if addressing the ghost of the original Violetta, “is blow almost half your money on a fancy room.”

“…You really were raised as a noble, weren’t you?”

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm down.

Alright. Damage was done.

Panic wouldn’t refund forty liras.

Her gaze swept the room again, this time more critically.

At least the quality meant something.

Good linens. Solid furniture. No signs of theft or infestation. This kind of place catered to merchants with money, minor nobles, and people who wouldn’t risk their reputation over petty crime.

“…So I paid for safety and comfort,” she conceded.

Then immediately frowned.

“…At a price I absolutely cannot afford.”

Her attention dropped to her clothes hanging over a chair.

High-quality fabric. Tailored fit. Subtle but expensive jewelry.

Sellable.

Very sellable.

“Alright,” she murmured, already shifting into problem-solving mode. “I recover the loss, build some capital, and get out of this hotel before I bleed the rest dry.”

Her gaze flicked once more to the room.

“…And next time,” she added dryly, “we aim for ‘doesn’t bankrupt me overnight.’”

She crossed her arms.

“I can work with this.”

A border town wouldn’t be kind to an exiled noble, but she had skills. Magic alone put her above most of the population. Add swordsmanship, and she could easily find work escorting caravans.

It wouldn’t be glamorous.

But it will fill her pockets.

Her gaze drifted back to the floating screen.

“…And then there’s you.”

[Ecchi System:
Violetta Monet (?)
Level: 1 (0/1000 XP)
…]

She exhaled.

“I can’t ignore it,” she admitted.

No one got reincarnated with a system and lived a peaceful, uneventful life.

That wasn’t how these stories worked.

“If something goes wrong—and it will—I need power.”

Her cheeks flushed faintly.

“But how the hell am I supposed to use this without… that?”

She reread the description.

“…committed by, or influenced by you.”

Silence.

Then—

Her eyes widened.

“…Influenced.”

A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face.

She might have zero real-life experience with romance.

But she did have experience.

Indirect experience.

The kind acquired through years of internet culture, late-night curiosity, and a frankly impressive consumption of… creative content.

“Earth has plenty of material," she said thoughtfully. “Hentai. Smut…”

And she—

Her gaze flicked back to her skill list.

Drawing.

Writing.

“…Oh no.”

Then, with theatrical despair, she threw her head back.

“Look, Mom,” she declared to the empty room, “I’m going to become an ecchi content creator.”

A pause.

“…Good thing I’m in another world,” she added dryly. “You’d disown me faster than Duke Monet did.”

She crossed her arms, thinking.

“…Should’ve gone to med school. Doctors don’t get isekai’d.”