There is a particular type of fantasy manga I keep coming back to.
A woman from the modern world dies, transmigrates into a novel, or somehow wakes up in another time period, usually somewhere with emperors, kings, dukes, counts, marquises, balls, tea parties, political marriages, family estates, and enough social hierarchy to make my head hurt.
And most of the time, she wakes up as the villainess.
Usually, she knows the story.
She knows how things are supposed to end.
She knows that the original heroine eventually gets the prince, the attention, and the happy ending, while the villainess—the body she now occupies—is destined for humiliation, exile, imprisonment, or death.
So naturally, her first thought is
“I have to change the story.”
And I’m always sitting there thinking:
Good.
Absolutely.
Please change the story.
But then she starts changing it, and sometimes I find myself becoming incredibly frustrated with her decisions.
Because there are moments when she has the simplest possible solution sitting right in front of her.
Say no.
That’s it.
Just say no.
Someone invites you somewhere you don’t want to go?
“No, thank you.”
Someone asks you to participate in something suspicious?
“No.”
Someone who clearly dislikes you tries to drag you into a situation where you have nothing to gain?
“No.”
And somehow, instead of saying no, our supposedly intelligent, modern-day protagonist will think:
“I need to understand what she’s planning.”
So she goes.
Then she gets embarrassed.
Then something happens exactly the way the reader expected.
And I’m sitting there wondering why we went through all of this.
You know you’re in a story.
You know your original character was supposed to die.
You know the events you’re trying to avoid.
You know the people around you.
And most importantly, you now know that this is no longer a fictional story.
This is your life.
Why are you still treating every social invitation like a mandatory story event?
I understand that there are consequences to refusing people in a society built around hierarchy. If you’re the daughter of a duke and someone from a lower-ranking noble family approaches you, there are social rules involved. You can’t necessarily behave however you want without consequences.
But there is a difference between understanding social etiquette and allowing yourself to be dragged into every situation someone creates for you.
Especially when you have already established yourself as someone intelligent.
If you’ve figured out how to build a merchant network, gather information, manipulate political relationships, develop financial independence, and anticipate future events, surely you can also develop the revolutionary strategy known as
“I don’t want to attend.”
Sometimes I want the villainess to remember that she has options.
And that leads me to another thing that bothers me about these stories.
The assumption that the heroine must be good.
I never understood that.
Even before I started reading these types of stories, I’ve always believed that people are complicated.
I don’t believe someone is entirely good simply because a story calls them the heroine.
And I don’t believe someone is entirely evil simply because the story calls them the villain.
People are people.
They can be kind in one situation and selfish in another.
They can love someone deeply and still hurt someone else.
They can do something incredibly generous and then make a terrible decision five minutes later.
But when these protagonists enter a novel, they often carry the original moral labels with them.
“The heroine is good.”
“I’m the villainess.”
Therefore:
“I need to stay away from her.”
Okay.
But have you actually met her?
Have you actually observed her?
Have you questioned why the original story portrayed her as good?
Because sometimes the protagonist eventually discovers that the “good heroine” isn’t nearly as innocent as the book made her seem.
The heroine manipulates people.
She plays innocent.
She takes advantage of people’s kindness.
She creates situations where other people look like the aggressors.
And suddenly the villainess realizes:
“Wait.”
“Was I actually the villain?”
That is the part I enjoy.
Because now the story becomes much more interesting.
The protagonist is forced to reconsider the assumptions she arrived with.
She thought she knew the world because she had read the book.
But reading a story and living inside it are two completely different things.
A book can tell you that someone is evil.
Living beside them allows you to discover why.
A book can tell you someone is kind.
Living with them allows you to see whether that kindness survives when nobody is watching.
A book can tell you who ends up with the prince.
It doesn’t necessarily tell you whether they deserve him.
And I think that is the part these stories sometimes miss.
If you are given a second life, don’t just change the route.
Change the way you think.
You are no longer a reader watching predetermined characters move toward predetermined endings.
You are now one of them.
And if the world starts behaving differently from the story you remember, maybe that’s the most important piece of information you have.
The story has already changed.
So stop following the script.
Say no.
Ask questions.
Observe people.
Build your own relationships.
And most importantly, stop assuming that everyone has already been assigned a moral label.
Because maybe the person you were told was the villain isn’t evil.
Maybe the person you were told was the heroine isn’t good.
Maybe everyone is simply a person trying to survive the story they were born into.
And honestly, I think that would make a much more interesting story.
