The Villainess's Reputation [Kingdom Building]

Ravenna walked past them and sat down at the head, her usual spot, her posture relaxed but unmistakably noble. "I do have a lot to take care of, aftermath reports, resource counts, some very awkward letters to draft for the Empire and others." She let out a small, almost laughless chuckle. "But for now... I think I've earned a quiet meal."

Aurora leaned forward, eyes studying her. "You look like you've had revelations thrown at you from five different gods."

"You're not too far off," Ravenna replied with a smirk, reaching for the breadbasket. "But none of that changes the fact that I'm starving."

Marie, still anxious but comforted by her master's usual sharp composure, exhaled softly and picked up her spoon again.

Whatever came next, imperial backlash, divine attention, political shifts, they would face it together.

For now, in the golden glow of the castle's chandeliers and the comfort of good food, it was dinner.

As they dined,the dining table was unusually quiet. Even Marie, who was usually a whirlwind of chaotic energy and disgraceful table manners, was left unchecked as she happily devoured her food with an enthusiasm that defied the delicate silverware she wielded like barbarian tools. Forks scraped, soup slurped, elbows on the table—months of etiquette lessons utterly discarded. Yet no scolding or teasing reprimand came from Ravenna, as it usually did.

Aurora noticed it first.

Ravenna, seated at the head of the table, was eating in a strangely mechanical fashion. Her posture was composed, but her eyes were distant: unfocused, lost somewhere far from the castle, from the dining hall, from the food in front of her. She stabbed her fork into her meal like she was on autopilot, her gaze glazed in thought as if watching ghosts dance in her periphery.

Hoping to spark some conversation, Aurora cleared her throat lightly. "His Holiness James asked me to check with you," she said, voice measured and gentle. "Can we go ahead with the Festival of Lust as originally planned?"

Ravenna blinked. Her fork paused mid-air. She looked at Aurora for a few seconds too long, her gaze unreadable, almost bizarre then finally replied in a quiet tone, "Yes. We should be able to."

She set her fork down, pushed back her chair, and rose from the table.

"I have things to take care of tonight," she said flatly. "I'll be in my study finishing them up."

Marie's cheeks were still stuffed with food as she frowned. "Master! The battle just ended. Can't you relax for one night?"

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Ravenna turned her gaze toward Marie, then Aurora again. Her expression was unreadable, but the flicker of tension in her jaw was clear.

"That's true, but…" she hesitated again, eyes lingering on Aurora longer than usual. "The outcome of the battle was… unexpected. You all understand that, don't you?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Her voice had turned slightly distant again. "There are consequences I need to manage. And plans I must adjust." With that, she turned and exited the dining hall, her steps brisk but heavy.

Back in her study, Ravenna closed the door quietly behind her and let her back slide down against it. Her knees met the cool marble floor with a soft thud. She leaned her head against the polished wood and exhaled slowly, the breath shaky as it left her lungs.

The lingering words from that dream, no, the vision, hadn't left her mind. They echoed louder every time her eyes met Aurora's, every time she remembered the sound of her own voice coming from someone else's mouth.

"Why can't the opposite be true?" "What if you are Ravenna… with Joy's memories?"

Her head lowered into her hands. "Why…?" she whispered, voice barely audible. One palm rested against her forehead, fingers pressing in as though trying to physically hold her thoughts together.

"When?" she asked the empty room. "When did I start… becoming more Ravenna than Joy?"

The question terrified her because it wasn't just rhetorical, It was real. Tangible. It echoed in her chest like a cold wind sweeping through the cracks in an old building, uninvited but undeniable. The terrifying part wasn't just the question itself, but the answer that was beginning to form. Piece by piece. Moment by moment.

Was it when she stopped pretending to be Ravenna and started believing, even for a second, that she was Ravenna?

Not just a borrowed name or role, but someone who genuinely thought she owned everything she touched. That arrogant certainty, that imperial birthright, the belief that the city, the desert, the people, the loyalty, even the pain—were all hers. She could see it now, in hindsight. A slow possession of her soul by someone who was supposed to be dead.

Or was it the night she shared a bed with Aurora?

Not as Joy Cha Kim, terrified and lost. But as Ravenna Solarius. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if it were a reunion between two souls long intertwined. As if it were hers to take comfort in Aurora's warmth, to respond to the silent plea in her eyes, to quiet the trembling anxiety in her heart.

"I wasn't even attracted to women in my past life…" she whispered, her voice barely carrying through the study.

But that night… hadn't felt wrong.

It had felt familiar. Like coming home.

And wasn't that the most terrifying thing of all?Joy Cha Kim, the anxious, overlooked office worker from Earth, had only ever wanted to survive. To escape the grind, to stay alive, to live in peace far from the novel's plot.

But Ravenna Solarius…

She wanted more. She wanted to rule. To own. To devour the world in all its glory. To become the indulgent tyrant history would never forget.

And now… the line between them was paper-thin.

Over time, through wounds, war, and quiet moments between heartbeats, the separation between Joy and Ravenna had blurred. Disintegrated.

She clenched her fists, her back still pressed against the door. Her breath came in shallow pulls.

"What am I?" she whispered into the empty room, the candlelight flickering around her like the breath of ghosts.

There was no answer. Just silence.

And the quiet realization that she might never be just Joy again.