I'm The Villainess Here. I Can Do What I Want!

Like Visiting The Library!

Falling. Falling. Still falling.

You know, it's kinda weird how these things just happen to me. I'm waiting for my head to shatter from the final impact, but at the same time, I feel awfully light. I'm just kinda staring at the ruby eyes peering down at my small frame. Oh, I'd love to give this boy of piece of my mind.

And I thought we started having a real connection! I named him. I don't do that for every sad sap I see. Of course, my kindness is only repaid with a impish smile and a reassurance of a second death. That, or a concussion going-into-coma.

I shut my eyes tight. Maybe, it won't hurt too badly. I've already got socked in the face by some truck, I might as well relax at getting tacked from behind. At least I'll get sympathy from a whole kingdom, not because of my death personally, but rather that common folk will be forced to mourn the loss of their princess. That's incredibly uplifting news!

Hmm. Perhaps optimism isn't quite my forte.

As my thoughts end, I become a bit peeved. What's taking so long? The height isn't even that tall. My question sits on my mind for a few seconds before a familiar, immatured voice coughs out.

"Ahem. Miss Protagonist?"

A big, pale head overshadowed my view. Shiloh. My retired rage towards his unexplained betrayal once again swelled up in my chest. However, my eyes begin to trail down his form to find floating. Floating. Why is he floating?

With a snap of his fingers, I could see my world blur and blend together. I suppose this should freak me out, but right now I feel almost...disassociated with this scene. Almost as if this is some highly budgeted fantasy movie and Shiloh and I are the viewers. My thoughts may be jumbled and not very logical, but before I can think more on it, I'm sitting on a large, comfy, and fancy chair.

I feel an urge to ask where we were, but I'm not blind. Rows and rows of colorful leather spines, a chandelier that forces me to narrow my eyes in order to make out, and the warmth of a burning Yule fire. Unlike most people, I can recognize a library when I see it. Not that I want to see it. A useless space where only losers gather around to read things made by dead people. Is Shiloh a loser?

Shiloh glances at me knowingly before crossing his arms. The way he's posing in the air as if he's swinging on a tied blanket in the tropics. It's unreal. He feels unreal. Even though I've mostly accepted my reincarnation, I still feel like this is some sort of dream and I'll wake up any second. I'm not sure if for better or for worse.

"Miss Protagonist. Do you know why we're here?"

I narrow my small eyes at him; does he really expect me to know? Maybe he's forgotten that not everybody can read minds like some creep that hacks people. I can't tell that to him though, so I settle for a little shake of my head. It's hard to do with the ever-going threat of gravity's hatred towards my bobble-head.

Noting this—at least, I'm pretty sure he gets it—Shiloh grounds himself for the first time since they got there. He looks so marginal compared to the wood of the shelves larger taller than I could see. He puts out one hand, filling it with a book bigger than his hand; that may not be saying much however.

When he comes back to me, he sits on the beautifully designed arm of the chair. Opening it, dust and debris make its way to my eyes, only blocked off by my, thank god, long eyelashes. Before I give him my best death stare, a colorful pop up comes to full display.

It's a grand sight, I'll give him that. A line of tiny ladies in fine gowns smile cheerfully. Each accompanied by a Prince Charming or allies they've made along the way. Your typical case of Classified Bull, but the art style is cute nonetheless.