Cold, biting metal dug into Sarang's neck, cutting off her breath before she could even open her eyes. Gasping for air, her eyelids fluttered open to a blur of deep, suffocating crimson. Her fingers flew straight to her throat, clawing at the thick, heavy band of silver locked around her windpipe. Panic flared in her chest as she sat up, realizing she was lying on a plush, red velvet chaise lounge that smelled faintly of lavender and old dust. Memories of a terrifying crash—the blinding headlights of a truck, the screeching of tires on wet asphalt, and the crushing pain of her final moments as an overworked office worker in Seoul—flooded her mind. This place was entirely different, a luxurious, terrifying room of grand, gothic proportions. Massive arched windows stretched toward a vaulted ceiling painted with gold-leaf constellations, casting long, sharp shadows across a polished marble floor. A sickening realization began to settle in the pit of her stomach as her gaze swept over the opulent, dark room. Sarang. Unbelievably, she had somehow woken up inside the body of her namesake—the notoriously ruthless villainess of "The Crimson Crown," her favorite dark-fantasy webnovel. In the original timeline, this villainess met a brutal public execution after desperately plotting to murder the holy heroine, Jiwoo, and possess the seven supreme sorcerer-lords of the kingdom, collectively known as the Bangtan. Armed with rare summoning and transmutation magic, the original Sarang had used her gifts for venomous schemes, but the new Sarang wanted absolutely nothing to do with her predecessor's toxic obsession or grim fate. If she was currently wearing this magic-binding silver collar, it meant she had transmigrated right into the middle of the interrogation that preceded her downfall. Heavy, rhythmic footsteps suddenly echoed from the stone corridor outside, breaking the heavy silence of the chamber. Every muscle in her new body locked up in absolute terror. Sliding off the chaise lounge, she fell clumsily onto the cold floor, her knees trembling so hard they could barely support her weight. Double doors of dark mahogany swung open with a slow, agonizing creak. Black, silken hair framed a face of sharp, aristocratic angles, and eyes as cold and dark as coal scanned the room before locking onto her. Min Yoongi. His presence alone seemed to drop the temperature in the room by ten degrees, a physical manifestation of his terrifying shadow magic. Coldness rolled off his tall, lean frame in waves as he stepped over the threshold, his dark, high-collared military uniform immaculate and devoid of a single speck of dust. Walking with a slow, predatory grace, he moved like a panther stalking its cornered prey. Gold embroidery on his cuffs caught the dim light, gleaming like warning signs of the absolute power he wielded. Stopping just a few feet away, he stood close enough for her to smell the scent of rain and ozone on his heavy coat. "Do not play silent with me, Sarang," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that sent a shiver straight down her spine. His sharp jaw clenched, a tiny vein pulsing at his temple as he stared down at her with unmitigated disgust. "Saintess Jiwoo is currently fighting for her life in the temple, and you are lying here acting like a frightened rabbit," he sneered, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. Trembling, she shook her head frantically, her long dark hair whipping around her face. "I... I didn't do it," she stammered, her voice cracking with genuine, unscripted fear. Dark eyes narrowed into slits of pure ice as he stared down at her trembling form. His hand moved slowly to his hip, wrapping around the hilt of a wicked, black dagger. Obsidian gleamed in the dim light as he drew the blade, its surface forged from raw shadow-stone that hummed with a lethal, crackling energy. Terror seized her heart, hot and sharp, overriding her frozen state. "Please, wait! I don't know anything about a poison!" she cried out, raising her hands in a desperate shield. He didn't hesitate, lunging forward to press the cold, dark blade against her throat, right above the silver collar. Desperately, her survival instinct took over, and she reached out to grab his wrist, her palms glowing with a sudden, brilliant white light. Magic, raw and completely uncontrolled, surged from the core of her chest and rushed down her arms. A loud, hollow popping sound echoed through the tense silence of the room. Instead of blood or pain, a soft, ridiculously sweet scent of artificial strawberries suddenly exploded in the air. Stunned silence dropped over them like a heavy weight. Pink glass now occupied the space where Yoongi's lethal obsidian dagger had been just a second ago. Sweet, sparkling glass petals bloomed from a delicate stem, forming a perfectly harmless, pink glass peony in his black-gloved hand. Yoongi stared down at the ridiculous, sugary-scented flower, his eyes widening in a rare, genuine display of complete shock. "What is this?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low as he looked from the toy-like flower to her face. Sarang's brain scrambled frantically, trying to process the absolute absurdity of what she had just done. "It's... a peony?" she squeaked, offering a pathetic, trembling smile. He raised an eyebrow, his jaw tightening so hard she thought his teeth might shatter. "Are you mocking me, Sarang?" he growled, the pink glass flower looking utterly ridiculous against his dark, intimidating figure. "No! I just... my magic went wild!" she gasped, waving her hands frantically in front of her. Playing the fool was her only option now; if she acted like a clumsy, harmless idiot, maybe he would think she was too stupid to orchestrate a high-level poisoning. He stepped even closer, his shadow completely engulfing her as he pressed her against the wall. Yoongi leans down, his breath cold against her ear, and whispers that if this is another of her elaborate seduction games, she has exactly three seconds to prove she isn't hiding a real blade behind her back.

Chapter 1: A Gallows Painted in Gold