Chapter 1
“Ophelia.”
He gazed at me with eyes brimming with endless affection. His violet eyes glimmered as though honey was dripping from them.
It was an exceedingly handsome face.
“I love you.”
If only one could receive such a sweet whisper from him, the women of the Empire would do anything.
Because he was the Crown Prince of this Empire.
But, regrettably, there was only one answer I could give to this reverent declaration of love.
“Cheep.”
That’s right. No matter who stood before me, no matter that this was his bedroom — a place no woman who adored the Crown Prince had ever entered — none of it mattered.
Because my body right now was nothing more than that of a little yellow chick.
“How adorable. Just as I expected of the one I chose.”
The silver-haired Crown Prince, Clements Resta Dusingen, let out a low chuckle as though he were dying of fondness.
He was the very culprit who had dragged me — a perfectly fine noble lady — here, turned me into a chick to live day and night, separated me from my family, and forced me to dwell in this troublesome palace!
“Cheep! Cheep!”
I flapped my wings furiously in protest. This lunatic! Do you have any idea what kind of uproar is sweeping through the palace because you’re parading around with a chick as though it’s your beloved mistress?
“Cassis.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Ophelia isn’t pecking at her feed. What’s the matter?”
Because of you!
“Oh dear, it seems the newly switched premium feed isn’t to her taste. I’ll order it changed back to the previous kind.”
“My lovely Ophelia, even as the Crown Prince’s chick, to have such modest tastes — truly a model for the Empire.”
What nonsense is that!
Even Marquis Cassis Dupré, the most capable man in the Empire and the Prince’s aide, was earnestly playing along with this pet nonsense. Has the whole Empire gone mad, except me?
Clements had never listened to me even when I was in my human form. So now, like this, how could I possibly make myself understood?
Having lost the will to resist, I plopped down atop the feed dish. Etched in gold on the elegant dish was my name, “Ophelia.” My situation felt pitiful — no matter how angry I became, all this lofty man saw was something “cute.”
“My Ophelia, is something troubling you?”
Yes — YOU. You are the cause of all my worries, my grief, my impending ruin!
This was strange. In the novel I had read, Clements was not — crudely put — this insane. He was the male lead praised by readers for his sweet devotion to the heroine.
That was… until he died at the hands of the woman he loved, Bellarucia.
As an avid reader, I couldn’t stand that tragic event. So, after finding myself transmigrated into the novel, I tried desperately to prevent his death. I wanted to ensure that the love between him and the heroine, free of misunderstandings, would blossom beautifully.
But everything had gone horribly wrong, and now… this was the result.
Sure, he’s alive — that’s good. But why, instead of caring about the heroine, is he worshipping me, a mere chick? I was just a side character, at best the heroine’s childhood friend!
“Your Highness! Return Ophelia to me! It was supposed to be my turn to look after her at lunchtime today!”
BANG BANG BANG BANG. A pounding at the solid bedroom door, as though someone meant to break it down. Only one person would dare to knock like that on the Crown Prince’s door.
Lady Camille de Bailis. A beauty with platinum-blonde hair and emerald eyes.
She was the strongest candidate for Crown Princess.
And in the novel, she was the villainess who tormented the heroine mercilessly out of jealousy for Clements’ affection.
But now? She was just someone fiercely competing with Clements over who got to keep me, the chick.
The moment Camille’s voice rang out, Clements’ expression froze into icy coldness.
“Send her away.”
“As you command.”
They exchanged glances as though about to execute some solemn mission. Marquis Dupré strode toward the door, leaving a red-haired blur in his wake.
I could hear Camille insisting she knew I was inside and demanding to come in, while Dupré flatly lied through his teeth that “Lady Ophelia is not here.”
Camille was not someone to give up easily. This might drag on for a while.
“You needn’t worry about a thing, Ophelia.”
In the meantime, Clements sweetly whispered as he placed me atop his palms.
He held me as though I were a hidden lover eloping with him.
This is ridiculous — why are they all so serious about a chick?!
“Cheep! Cheep! (I’m going crazy!)”
“Yes, I feel the same.”
“Cheep! (The same my foot!) Cheep. (You’re already crazy.)”
“There has never been, and never will be, a being as adorable as you in my life. Next month… let us hold a ceremony in the presence of the imperial elders.”
“Cheep (What ceremony…?)”
The way Clements’ cheeks flushed suspiciously made my skin crawl. I tried to ignore the strange nuance in his tone.
Then, at last, he lifted the silk cover off a silver tray on his desk.
Beneath it lay a tiny white dress and veil, along with a tiara made of pearl and rosebuds — all fitted neatly on a chick-shaped mannequin made of white wire.
“I want to spend my life together with you, my adorable chick.”
Clements stroked my head ever so carefully with his thumb.
“Do you like it?”
I had tried not to stress out no matter how absurd things became.
But this — this was too much. My poor little wings trembled uncontrollably, and my two orange feet shook atop Clements’ firm hands.
Just like a soap-opera father-in-law clutching his chest in rage and collapsing, I too let my tiny legs buckle beneath me, flopping backwards.
Of course, it was still on Clements’ broad palm, and my downy feathers made it feel almost fluffy when I landed.
“Ophelia, what’s wrong? Do you not like the dress?”
Ah… how did things ever come to this? Even when others transmigrated into novels as tragic side characters or extras, at least they stayed human.
My memory drifted back to long ago, when I had first entered this story.
I had been the daughter of a low-ranking provincial noble and became a maid to the young lady of the most powerful count family in the region.
Bellarucia Leunis Monahan.
The moment I heard that name, I realized.
I had transmigrated into the free serialized novel I’d been reading: Beauty and the Beast.
“No… no, this can’t beee!!”
I clutched my hair, but the sentence on the screen didn’t change.
[Clements Resta Dusingen thus breathed his last.]
“Ughhh…!”
A strange groan escaped my lips. Tears welled up in my eyes.
[Because he fell in love with a woman, and could not reclaim even his own life from her hands.]
“Aaaghh!!”
Unable to bear it, I hurled my phone. It bounced off the mattress and clattered roughly onto the floor. The fact that I still had over a year left on my installment plan didn’t even register.
Yes, I knew it was ridiculous to throw a tantrum over a web novel. But I truly loved Beauty and the Beast. From the very first chapter it had captured my heart, and I had reread it countless times, waiting desperately each day for the next update.
The charm of the novel lay in its mysterious setting and atmosphere. The source of that mystique was none other than the heroine, Bellarucia.
Cursed by a beastly spell, she turned into a black panther every night. Bellarucia Leunis Monahan, daughter of a count.
And the male lead: Crown Prince Clements Resta Dusingen, who encountered her while visiting the western provinces.
Though she appeared composed and refined, Bellarucia hid an untamed wildness. In the novel, she expressed her attraction to Clements in raw, primal terms — “I want to devour him,” or “I want to break him.”
Clements, too, was no ordinary man. Though human, he carried an otherworldly air. Whenever the moon rose, that strange aura deepened.
[A novel where the heroine constantly wants to eat the hero, lol… this is a first.]
[Run, Clem! Run!]
[The atmosphere is so heavy. Is this a tragedy novel?]
[Nah, I think it’s just the writing style emphasizing mood. Doesn’t seem like a tragedy.]
Reader reactions were like that.
Either way, the two unmatched beauties were drawn to each other at first sight. But because of her curse, Bellarucia couldn’t easily approach Clements, and his curiosity only grew toward this woman who subtly pushed him away.
Their secret lent an intoxicating tension as their flirtation escalated, until they eventually returned together to the imperial palace.
But waiting there was the villainess Camille de Bailis, the dominant force of high society and strongest candidate for Crown Princess.
When Camille saw Bellarucia by Clements’ side, she lost her mind and did everything possible to crush her.
[Ugh Camille is so annoying; author, give us some justice already!]
[Bell looked so strong in front of Clem, but now she’s just getting stomped on by Camille without a word. Frustrating.]
[Is this actually a tragedy novel?]
[Am I the only one who feels weird about Clem? Like, did he deliberately give Camille a chance to exploit Bell’s weaknesses?]
Deeply immersed in the story, I felt Bell’s heavy, complex emotions as if they were my own. And I trusted in Clements’ steadfast love for her completely.
So, to defend the protagonists, I often left passionate comments.
[If you think about Bell’s background, of course she can’t just brazenly fight back in such an unfamiliar environment! And why are you all doubting Clements? Don’t you see how devoted he is to Bell?]
I had poured all my affection and passion into this story.
And then — Clements died. At Bell’s hands.
It was like a bolt from the blue.
