"Vivienne Ashford, have you lost your mind? You actually dared to drug all four of us at once?!"
The red candles flickered, and the whole room was steeped in a dangerous, feverish intimacy.
Vivienne Ashford's eyes flew open. The first thing she saw was a man with a cold, noble face, his fingers locked tight around her throat.
She froze.
She was the newest Best Actress in the entertainment world. Just a moment ago, she had still been on set filming, hadn't she? So what on earth was going on?
Vivienne frowned and tried to struggle, only to realize it was useless.
Someone was gripping her hands. There was force tugging at the back of her hair.
Even her ankle was pinned down by a pair of burning hot hands.
Who was it?!
What kind of situation was this?!
Her beautiful fox-like eyes narrowed sharply. Only then did Vivienne realize there was more than one person on the bed.
Her gaze swept across them, and their identities surfaced in her mind almost at once.
The one choking her was Caelum Hartwell, the current Prime Minister. Brilliant beyond compare, he had taken the top scholar title at seventeen and entered the rank of Prime Minister by twenty. He was cold and refined like carved jade, the man countless noble ladies in the capital dreamed of behind closed curtains.
The one holding her ankle was Finn Voss, the Emperor's only brother ever granted a princely title. Mysterious, unreadable, crippled from birth. With just one glance, she could feel the killing intent hidden in the abyss beneath him.
The one pulling at her hair was Dorian Blackwell, the Third Prince of the dynasty. Unfavored, yes, but still undeniably royal blood. Sharp-minded, deeply calculating. Now that the Crown Prince had been deposed, everyone was already pushing him forward in the fight for the throne.
And the one behind her, restraining both her wrists, was Felix Sterling, the most doted-on young master of the General's Manor, the most notorious young wastrel in the capital.
Four men and one woman on the same bed. Their positions were this intimate, and every single one of them carried a terrifying status...
Vivienne's whole body went on alert.
No matter what, nothing else could happen next.
"Let go of me!"
She let out a sharp cry, but Caelum Hartwell’s burning breath was already falling against her face. He gripped her chin, the corner of his mouth lifting in a cold, mocking smile. “What? Second Miss Ashford went to all this trouble to drug us, and now that things have come to this, isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”
Vivienne Ashford knew at once.
She had transmigrated.
And of all things, she had fallen straight into one of those old-school reverse-harem novels.
The heroine, Celeste Ashford, was the classic type: tough as iron, saddled with a mother who died young, a beast of a father, and a life full of suffering—yet she still endured it all. No wonder she had become the untouchable white moonlight in every male lead’s heart.
As for the original Vivienne, she was the villainous foil through and through. A concubine-born young lady of the Ashford residence, yet absurdly favored in the capital despite her birth. She fought her legitimate elder sister for everything, snatching, competing, never willing to fall behind.
She had treated Celeste like a thorn in her side, like a bone stuck in her throat. She even framed Celeste for breaking an imperial gift, which got Celeste punished and sent to the borderlands as a slave for three whole years.
And now, the point in the story she had landed in was this—
The original host had learned Celeste’s punishment was over, and that she was about to return to the capital.
Terrified that the men she fancied would be lured away by Celeste the moment she came back, she had secretly drugged Caelum Hartwell, hoping to force things past the point of no return.
She was vicious enough, and bold enough too. In her mind, even if she failed to sleep with Caelum Hartwell, she still had to secure herself some kind of backing. So she drugged all four men at once.
Surely, she thought, one of them would do.
In the end, those men retaliated against her like mad, and she died a miserable, ugly death.
All of that memory rushed through Vivienne’s mind in a flash. In that single instant, she understood one thing clearly.
If she wanted to escape this dead end, there was only one way.
She had to keep her chastity intact.
Vivienne blinked once and slipped straight into performance mode.