"Oh, the little maid is here again." The voice was sharp, laced with disgust. It was especially loud in the hallway. As if on cue, heads turned, eyes falling on her. Some sneered, others whispered, but it was obvious the sight of her irked them.
Her silver hair was tied in a low, neglected ponytail, its strands dull with dirt and wear. Long bangs fell across her face like a curtain, shielding her eyes, though not nearly well enough. Anyone who looked too closely would see the murky eyes filled with hatred and... fear. Her figure was scrawny, bones visible through the cheap, too-thin fabric of her dress.
Eira kept her eyes on the floor. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, not from exertion but from dread. It always started like this: snickers, whispers, voices thick with venom – then something worse. A kick, a leg tripping her, a hand pulling her hair. It always got worse.
She clenched the strap of the bag tightly, the strain turning her pale knuckles white.
She heard them, of course she did.
The same cruel words every time.
"She's like a roach. Keeps showing up no matter how many times she gets squashed."
"Ugh, her scent is disgusting. Can someone just kick her out already before I puke?"
"I heard she tried to seduce Caden again. Got thrown out, obviously."
"She's so damn desperate. I can't stand the sight of her."
"She thinks she's special because she was the Alphas' maid? Please."
Each word pierced like a blade, but no, they didn't cut.
If anything, Eira believed they were just jealous.
It didn't even matter if they were true. The way they looked at her – like she was filth clinging to the soles of their polished shoes never made her twisted self less proud. She was the Alphas' maid – and she would be their mate soon.
So yes, they were just jealous of her. Jealous that she knew them better than they ever did.
A small almost imperceptible smile appeared on her pink lips, a hint of madness flashing in her dusky green eyes. Her steps quickened just like her heart. She would see him again. Soon.
Her eyes collided with someone's, and she flinched. The smile vanished from her lips, and her gaze went low.
Eira remembered the rule: Look them in the eye, and you get bloodied. And the quadruplet Alphas, those she once thought were her protectors had long stopped shielding her from anything. They stood back. They always stood back.
So she walked on, dragging herself like a ghost clinging to routine, except her steps were lighter.
Because he was waiting for her.
Nikolas.
Her favorite.
But fate was cruel.
And fate always had other plans.
Just as she turned the corner, a hard shove knocked the breath out of her. Her feet stumbled over themselves, her body falling forward like a ragdoll. The bag hit the floor with a heavy thud, bursting open slightly. She hit the ground beside it.
Pain bloomed in her palms and knees.
Laughter followed.
Cold. Loud. Mocking.
But she was used to it.
Some students even paused to watch, smiling like they'd just seen their favorite scene on repeat. They took out their phones, capturing the scene with relish. No one helped. No one ever did.
The girl who shoved her didn't even look back. She kept walking, her hips swinging confidently, as if Eira hadn't existed at all.
And for a moment, Eira didn't move.
She stayed there on the cold tile floor, eyes behind the curtain of dirty hair wide, the chill seeping through her bones.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. But it wasn't from shame. Not entirely.
It was realization.
Everything snapped into place like shattered glass reforming mid-air.
She wasn't in her world anymore.
She wasn't even in a world.
She was inside a book.
An erotica novel titled Hot Four Alpha Brothers Fuck Me Every Night.
And her?
No, she wasn't the heroine.
She wasn't even a side character.
She was the villainess. A twisted, obsessive, mentally unstable little maid created for one purpose only: to push the heroine's story forward, to stir conflict, and then die horrifically, forgotten.
Cannon fodder, with a death that made readers celebrate finally having her gone, and they even sent numerous gifts to the authors for cleaning her up.
Her mind reeled. Images, scenes, and arcs flashed through her head like a lifetime compressed into seconds.
She saw herself, in vivid, humiliating detail. All the things Eira had done.
Sending threatening letters to women who got close to the Alphas.
Secretly snapping nudes and mailing them "accidentally."
Sniffing Harding's shirts like a madwoman before sending them to laundry.
Stabbing voodoo dolls of Caden's girlfriends.
Getting caught by Nikolas in the middle of masturbating while whispering his name.
And Leonardo…
God. She didn't even want to remember.
Eira's entire body trembled. Her cheeks burned with shame. She wanted to disappear.
How could she have been so...so utterly unhinged?
No wonder they hated her.
No wonder no one cared.
No wonder she died.
She remembered the ending now: how she climbed the rooftop, sobbing, blood dripping from her fingernails. How she jumped. How they smiled, relaxed. How her corpse was dumped outside to the wild like trash.
How no one mourned her.
No.
No.
Not again.
Her hands curled into fists as she slowly pushed herself off the floor.
She carried the bag again, but for some reason, it felt a little lighter.
And the weight on her chest? It was heavier and stuffy.
But her eyes – those eyes hidden beneath her long bangs – flashed with something new.
Resolve.
Clarity.
If the world had written her as a villain, then fine.
But she would be the kind of villain who survived.
The kind who rewrote her own ending.
Not the pitiful puppet who died to make way for someone else's love story.
She would find peace.
She would live.
"Why does it feel like she suddenly changed for no reason?" someone whispered behind her.
She didn't even flinch.
She just kept walking.