Infamous villainess of history makes the crown prince fall for her

Elena groaned softly as she drifted back to consciousness. Her body felt heavy, her mind sluggish. She tried to remember what had happened. The last thing she recalled was being inside the cave. The terrifying sound of rocks crumbling, the dust choking her lungs, the weight of debris crushing her body—she had died.

So why was she here?

A faint voice called out to her. "Lady… Lady Selene."

Elena's brows furrowed at the unfamiliar name. Slowly, she forced her eyes open. She expected to see the cold, jagged walls of the cave, but instead, she was met with a grand ceiling adorned with golden chandeliers.

Her breath hitched. This was not the cave.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the luxurious room. The sheer size of it was overwhelming. The walls were adorned with intricate gold carvings, the furniture exuding an air of royalty. Even the bed she was lying on felt softer than anything she had ever touched in her life. She was in a palace.

Her confusion deepened when she noticed two young women kneeling beside her bed. They were dressed in maid uniforms—elegant yet modest. Their heads were bowed, as if waiting for her to speak. Elena hesitated before reaching out, gently tapping one of them. The moment her fingers made contact, the maid jolted awake, her face going pale with terror.

"M-Madame! Forgive me!" she stammered, falling into a deep bow. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. Please, forgive me!"

Elena's heart pounded.

Before she could respond, the second maid also woke up, her reaction mirroring the first. Both maids knelt on the floor, shaking, their heads lowered in fear.

"Who are you?" Elena asked, her voice hoarse. "Where am I?"

Neither maid dared to look up. Instead, one of them suddenly bolted out of the room.

Elena watched in shock before turning to the remaining maid. "You," she said, her voice steadier now. "What's your name?"

The young woman hesitated before whispering, "Madame, I am Isolde, your personal maid."

Isolde. The name meant nothing to Elena.

"And where am I?"

The maid's eyes widened slightly, as if the question itself was absurd. "You are in the Vasari estate, Madame. Your family's home."

Elena felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

The Vasari estate? That name sounded familiar—too familiar. She knew it from the history books. No. It wasn't possible.

As if sensing her disbelief, Isolde's voice quivered.

"Madame… Are you feeling unwell? You are Lady Selene Vasari, the Crown Princess of the Lutharian Empire."

Elena's stomach twisted. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "You're mistaken. My name is Elena. I'm not—"

She cut herself off, a sudden dizziness washing over her.Her gaze landed on a nearby vanity table, and there, perched atop it, was a mirror. "Bring me that mirror," she commanded, her voice almost frantic.

Isolde obeyed without hesitation, placing the ornate mirror in Elena's trembling hands.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look. The face staring back at her was not her own.

Her breath caught. Long, flowing black hair. Piercing violet eyes. A delicate yet striking face that exuded nobility.

She knew this face.

This was the same mirror from the cave. The same mirror that she found a pendant under the same mirror that belonged to the cruel villainess whose name was feared across the Lutharian empire.

Her grip tightened around the mirror as realization sank in. She had become Selene Vasari. "No," she choked out, her pulse racing. "This can't be real. I can't be her!" A sharp panic overtook her. The history of Selene Vasari was drenched in blood, cruelty, and betrayal. If she was truly in Selene's body, then she was...The room suddenly spun around her. Her breath became shallow, her limbs weak.

"Madame!" Isolde called, reaching out to steady her. But it was too late. The overwhelming flood of memories—Selene's memories—came crashing down on her all at once. It was as if two lives were colliding inside her mind, merging into one. Her vision blurred, and the last thing she heard before losing consciousness was Isolde's desperate plea for help.

--When Elena awoke again, voices filled the air.

"Selene," a deep, worried voice called.

Her eyelids fluttered open to see a group of people standing over her. A man with stern features and a powerful aura—Duke Aldric Vasari, Selene's father. Beside him, a woman with a regal yet gentle presence—Duchess Seraphina Vasari, Selene's mother. And next to them, a tall young man, his expression unreadable—Eric Vasari, Selene's elder brother.

Their voices were filled with concern as they called her name.

"Elena," she whispered under her breath, barely audible. Then, her gaze hardened. No.

She wasn't just Elena anymore. She was Selene Vasari, but from her past life.