The Villainess with a Blank Slate

The first thing I remember is panicking. Not the polite kind of panic with quiet gasps and a soft "Oh my goodness, what's happening?"—no, this was full-on screaming, flailing, and grabbing the nearest pillow for defense.

I blinked rapidly, staring at the middle-aged woman who—without a doubt—was readying herself to slap me again. Her hand was raised, her expression equal parts desperate and determined. My survival instincts kicked in. With a speed I didn't even know I possessed, I grabbed the nearest pillow off the lavish bed behind me and held it up like a shield.

"Stop! Hold on! Let's not get violent here! Ma'am, please! I don't know what's happening, but slapping me isn't necessary!" I yelped, my voice high-pitched in panic. Each of her swings met the pillow with a muffled thud, her steps were confident, like a seasoned boxer ready for a knockout blow. She raised her hand again, clearly aiming for another slap and I yanked it left and right to block her increasingly fervent attempts. "Can we talk about this? Please?!"

The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on me, but neither was the sharp sting on my cheek from her earlier attack. The maids around the room started giggling, some of them outright laughing as I scrambled around the massive chamber, clutching my pillow of defense. Their laughter mingled with my frantic yells, and I couldn't tell if I wanted to laugh with them or cry.

Finally, I darted forward and grabbed the woman's wrists, holding them firmly but gently. "Listen, let's… let's take a breath, okay?" My voice cracked as I panted, trying to calm the rapid thudding of my heart. "I'll stay calm, you stay calm, and everyone's face stays un-slapped. Deal?"

The woman—who I now suspected was somehow related to this body I had woken up in—glared at me but didn't try to slap me again. Her husband, who had been nodding enthusiastically moments ago, stepped closer, his brows furrowing. "If she isn't our Serephina, then what is she? A demon? A witch?"

"A very confused human being," I muttered under my breath.

"Could we… maybe… call for a doctor or something?" I suggested aloud, my voice louder this time. "Someone who knows about health? Or… I don't know, magic? Because honestly, I'm just as curious as you are about what's going on here."

The woman's expression softened just slightly, and she nodded curtly. "Fine. Bring the physician. And hurry."

Minutes later, I found myself sitting on a stiff, ornate chair in the center of the room, surrounded by an audience of judgmental faces. The middle-aged couple, a stern-looking older man who seemed to be the head butler, and a maid I now recognized as Edda were all seated across from me, while a man in a long coat—the doctor—stood to my left, examining me as if I were some rare specimen.

Their eyes bore into me with such intensity that I found myself fidgeting. My hand repeatedly went to the back of my head to scratch nervously, then to my lap where it rubbed against my pajama pants. I wasn't even wearing real clothes, and the surrealness of the situation was starting to weigh on me.

Clearing my throat, I tried to break the heavy silence. "So… anyone going to explain why we're all staring at me like I've grown a second head?"

The doctor mirrored my action, clearing his throat before speaking. "My Lady, do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nodded quickly, sitting up straighter. "Yep, loud and clear. You're speaking Common… or English… or whatever you call it here."

The doctor narrowed his eyes slightly but pressed on. He held up two fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

I squinted at his fingers, giving it my best shot. Then a realization hit me.

"Uh, sorry, I can't tell, two? No, three? Wait—two! Definitely two." I finally admitted, waving vaguely toward his hand. "My vision is super blurry. I've got farsightedness—minus 2.00, to be exact. Does anyone here even know what bad eyesight is?"

The doctor sighed heavily and turned to the middle-aged couple. "She seems to have sustained some confusion, possibly memory loss. This may take time."

"Memory loss?" the woman echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief and concern.

The doctor turned back to me. "Do you remember anything about the night before? Anything unusual?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, my brow furrowing as I massaged my temples. "Look," I began hesitantly, "the truth is… whatever I say probably won't make much sense to you. Believe me, it doesn't even make sense to me."

The couple exchanged worried glances, and the maid, Edda, bit her lip nervously. The head butler's stern expression didn't falter.

"Try us," the man—who I assumed was this body's father—said firmly.

I took a deep breath and glanced around the room. Their faces were expectant, eager for answers I didn't have. Should I even tell them? Would they lock me up in some medieval asylum if I said I wasn't their 'Serephina' but a twenty-something-year-old who had no idea how I'd ended up here?

"Okay," I said finally, leaning back in the chair and crossing my legs. "Here's the deal. Let's say I… hit my head really hard and woke up with amnesia. I don't remember who you are or who I…" I gestured vaguely at my borrowed body, "…am supposed to be. So… maybe let's start with that. Who's Serephina, and what's her deal?"

The silence that followed my question was deafening. The middle-aged woman looked like she'd been slapped this time, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Her husband's face turned an alarming shade of red.

"Our daughter—you!" he boomed, pointing a finger at me. "You are Lady Serephina of House Arden! How can you not know that?!"

"Uh, amnesia?" I offered weakly, shrugging. "Like I said, head injury. Real nasty stuff."

The doctor coughed awkwardly. "My Lord, such cases are rare but not unheard of. Trauma can manifest in peculiar ways. If the Lady has indeed lost her memories, we must tread carefully."

"Carefully?" the woman—my apparent "mother"—repeated, her voice cracking. "Our daughter doesn't remember us, and you want to be careful?!"

I sighed, slumping in the chair. This was going to be a long day.

The room fell silent once more. I could feel their gazes growing heavier, waiting for me to explain further. But seriously, what could I say? This entire situation was too absurd for words.

And here I was, stuck in a grand room with strangers who looked even more confused than I felt. If this really was the world of a comic I'd read before bed, I was in deep trouble. Because one thing was certain: I couldn't remember the story at all.

Hours after the full-body scan for injuries—what a pointless ordeal—I found myself wandering aimlessly through my absurdly grand new home. After being dolled up by Edda, I probably looked like someone staring at the buffet of their dreams, totally slack-jawed and dazed. Eventually, I stumbled into the rose garden and plopped onto a bench, deciding I needed some alone time. A thirty-minute therapy session with myself. Classic Noah move.

I kicked my right leg up, all casual, and caught myself looking more like a street thug than some noble lady. I took a few deep breaths, straightened my posture, and tried to soak in the scenery. It was stunning, honestly. The air was so fresh it almost felt fake—zero pollution in sight. For a moment, I thought, Wow, I could really get used to this.

But then reality hit me like a freight train. My face twisted into what I imagine was a disgusted, meme-worthy expression, and before I could stop myself, both middle fingers were flying skyward.

"You!" I shouted at the sky like a lunatic. "Yeah, you, Seraphina! If you've got problems, deal with them yourself! Don't drag me into your mess, you selfish jerk! I swear, if I ever meet you, I'm gonna smack you so hard. Pretty name, my ass—you're nothing but trouble. Seriously, where even are you? Aren't there supposed to be rules for this reincarnation thing? Like, a guide? Some hints? Anything? But no, I get absolutely nothing! Independence is fine, but this? This is just cruel! I'm left flailing around like an idiot!"

I huffed, the rant far from over. "Oh, and don't even get me started on how ungrateful you are. You've got rich, loving parents, a dream life, and you just vanish? Try being the eldest in a Gen-Z family, shouldering all the burdens. You'd crumble in a day! And what's up with your system, huh?"

The rant picked up steam. I jabbed at the sky repeatedly, then threw in another wild swing. "Reincarnation stories always come with buffs. Where's mine? Sure, my hair's silky, my skin's flawless, but my height and weight are exactly the same as before! Is this some kind of cosmic joke?"

I stomped again, throwing both middle fingers skyward this time, like a lunatic throwing a tantrum. "And my eyesight! Still bad! What's the point of being reborn if I can't even ditch my glasses? Honestly, this whole thing is an insult. Ugh!"

I took a deep breath, running my fingers through my long, ridiculously silky hair. My voice was a whisper, shaky but firm, as I muttered to myself, "It's okay, Noah. Everything's gonna be fine. I'll be fine. Let's just stay alive until then."

Closing my eyes, I tried to channel some Zen energy. My posture stiffened like I was meditating or something, but just as I was starting to calm down, the chaos resurfaced. My eyes flew open, and with zero care in the world, I yanked off my heels and chucked them skyward. Who cares where they land? Not me.

"UGH!" I groaned, now stomping around like a toddler on a sugar crash. "I miss burgers. I miss chili corndogs. I miss delivery food, junk food, Chinese food, Korean food! And my instant noodles—NOOOOO!"

The scream practically echoed through the estate as I clutched my hair and tugged at the strands, fully spiraling. My gaze darted to the nearest roses. Without thinking, I yanked a handful out of the bush and hurled them upward like they'd insulted my ancestors.

"GIVE ME BACK MY LIFE, YOU JERKS!" I roared, my tantrum hitting peak chaos, the petals raining down like confetti on my meltdown.

I slumped onto the grass, my energy completely drained. Legs sprawled out, hair a tangled lion's mane, and my bare feet dusty and exposed—I was an absolute disaster. Tears welled up in my eyes, and just as the first one trickled down, the sun's harsh glare disappeared.

A shadow loomed over me. I looked up to see a white-haired man kneeling beside me, holding out a handkerchief with a small, knowing smile. His voice was soft, and his laugh resonated deep as he spoke, "It seems the rumors are true. You really have lost your mind, haven't you?"

I stared at him, blinking rapidly, before snatching the handkerchief from his hand. The tears came fast and furious now, uncontrollable. Between sobs, I managed to choke out, "I just want to go home. Is it so wrong to want my simple life back? Is that such a sin? I don't need wealth—I just want to go home. Please, help me go home."

I buried my face in his handkerchief, muffling my cries, knees pulled tightly to my chest. "Oh, and I'll buy you a new handkerchief later," I added, my voice muffled and broken. "This one's covered in my snot now. Just tell my parents. They're rich."

The sound of hurried footsteps broke the moment, growing louder and heavier with every passing second. Before I could fully register it, a group of people surrounded me—some with panicked faces, others clearly unsure of what to do.

Then, I recognized them: Seraphina's parents. The Lord and Lady of the house had arrived, flanked by maids just as startled as I was. The Lady rushed to thank the white-haired man repeatedly, but her words became faint as my body gave in.

Exhausted, I collapsed. My vision blurred as strong arms caught me—Seraphina's father. The last thing I remembered was being cradled in his arms, his worried face above mine, before darkness claimed me.