Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess

Ahcehera's gaze lingered on the boy in the middle, who stood protectively between a younger Richmond and a girl she assumed was the villainess.

Beside the photo, a note was scrawled:

Year 022208, Birthday Souvenir Card.

Riezekiel Mors and Richmond Mors.

Ahcehera's throat tightened. Riezekiel and Richmond were brothers.

She sat back in her chair, her mind racing. The villainess's past was entangled with Richmond's in ways she never expected.

The boy who had saved her life was his brother, the same brother whose death likely shaped Richmond into the man she now knew.

They are twins!

The realization hit her like a thunderbolt.

Does he blame me?

Her gaze shifted back to the picture. The young Richmond's eyes were full of admiration for his older brother.

The story was more complicated than she had ever imagined.

Ahcehera's fingers brushed over the edge of the photo frame, her eyes glued to the image of the Night Owls Squad.

Her gaze shifted to the figure standing closest to her in the group photo.

That must be Riezekiel, not Richmond.

Her chest tightened as she took a closer look at the masked figure in the back. That must be Richmond.

Ahcehera reached for the second picture, the one of just her and the man she now realized was Riezekiel. They looked so carefree, their smiles wide and unrestrained.

The princess must have been close to them, friends who shared laughter and secrets. But why had she hidden her identity, even from them?

The answer came to her in fragments of realization. Perhaps she wanted to live a normal life, free from the burdens of royal blood and military ranks.

Ahcehera turned her attention to the digital diary she had uncovered, a year's worth of entries written by the princess after the tragic accident.

The pages were filled with fragmented memories and musings that carried the weight of loss and confusion.

It was then that the horrifying truth struck Ahcehera like a bolt of lightning.

The princess forgot.

She had forgotten about the accident, forgotten about the loss of Riezekiel. And no one, no one, had told her the truth.

Ahcehera's hands trembled as she read through the diary. Richmond had lost his twin brother that day, but the world had acted as if Riezekiel never existed.

His identity had been deliberately erased, his memory buried beneath layers of secrecy.

Why did the military do that?

Her thoughts spiraled with questions.

Was there something wrong with the accident?

Were there secrets being concealed?

And why had Richmond, the hero, chosen to shoulder his grief in silence while blaming the princess for everything?

Ahcehera's heart felt heavy as she pieced together the fragments of the diary.

The entries revealed how the princess had unknowingly drawn closer to Richmond, mistaking him for Riezekiel at times.

She wrote about his face, his presence, a connection she couldn't fully explain.

But then Richmond's attitude changed.

He began to hate her.

Ahcehera's jaw tightened as she read on. The princess had never been told that her best friend, Riezekiel, had died.

She was left to grapple with a void in her memory and a growing hostility from someone she thought she could trust.

The hero is heartless!

Ahcehera thought, her anger bubbling to the surface.

He blamed the princess but never told her the truth!

Her heart ached as the weight of the revelations bore down on her.

The princess didn't deserve this.

The diary slipped from her fingers, landing softly on the desk. Ahcehera stared at the crystallized frame and the smiling faces in the photos.

There's more to this story, secrets that were meant to stay hidden. But I won't let them.

Her resolve hardened. Whatever had happened ten years ago, she was going to uncover the truth.

-

When Ahcehera finally regained her composure, she stood and made her way back to her quarters.

I need some rest.

A villa had been reserved for her within Agartha Base, a luxury reserved only for individuals of the highest rank.

As the door slid open, the sight that greeted her was unexpected. The villa was barren. Devoid of warmth, life, or even a hint of personality.

The walls were plain, the furniture minimal and utilitarian, and there wasn't a single decorative piece in sight. The cold sterility of the place made her shiver.

I thought the princess loved things that sparkled? But why does it look like she was living a completely different life here?

Ahcehera closed the door behind her, the sound of the lock echoing in the hollow space.

She ascended the stairs to check the princess's bedroom, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor.

Empty.

The room was bare, without even a bed or basic furnishings.

Strange.

Ahcehera's brows furrowed as she walked the length of the house, her eyes scanning every corner for something, anything, that could explain this peculiar setup.

She tapped on the walls, checked for secret compartments, and even examined the floors for hidden panels.

But there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

How did the princess live here?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft vibration of her optical brain. A call came through, the number unregistered.

She hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Mistress, we have found the lair of the dragons. Are we to proceed with the next part of the plan?"

The voice was clear and steady, but unfamiliar.

Ahcehera's pulse quickened. Mistress?

Her grip on the optical brain tightened. "Rest for a while. I need to sort some things. Wait for my response."

Without waiting for a reply, she ended the call.

The room fell silent once more, but her mind buzzed with questions.

Who was that?

How do they know me?

And dragons?

Ahcehera leaned against the barren wall, staring at the blank space before her.

The princess's life was far more complicated than I imagined. Secrets within secrets. But whose plans am I tangled in now?

Her determination solidified. Whatever this was, she would get to the bottom of it.

I guess I don't have a choice.