It all started because I was bored.
That’s it. That’s literally how my downfall began.

I was sitting on my bed, eating leftover fries, trying to find something new on the Play Store because apparently, I’ve played every existing game known to humankind. Then I see this sketchy-looking app called “The Game of Fate.” No reviews. No developer name. Just a single line in the description that says: “please help.”

Red flag? Massive.
Did I ignore it? Obviously.

So I download it. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Viruses? Ads?
Nope. Dimensional kidnapping.

Next thing I know, I go to the bathroom like a normal person, come back, and—poof—my room is gone. Replaced by a literal palace straight out of a fantasy novel. Fancy marble floors, chandeliers, servants, and me wearing a dress that looks like it costs more than my life savings.

Apparently, my name’s Ariana now, and I’m a princess.
Sounds cool, right? Wrong.

The king won’t stop smiling at me like I’m his precious miracle child. My new sister, Clara, hates me in that “sweet smile, hidden dagger” kind of way. The nobles are allergic to fun. And the food? Okay, I’ll admit, the food slaps.

Anyway, fast-forward to the Witch’s Festival. Everyone’s partying, I’m shoveling food like a feral raccoon, and then—boom—someone gets murdered. The crowd goes nuts. I look up and see this guy with golden hair and ocean-blue eyes just standing there like he didn’t just cause a royal crime scene.

Our eyes meet, and suddenly my brain decides to play a horror movie. I see fire, death, magic—apparently I used to be some tragic witch who died centuries ago? And this guy was the Demon King?

So yeah. Either I’m possessed, dead, or starring in the world’s worst RPG.

I downloaded a game.
Now I’m the main character in a historical soap opera with magic, murder, and zero Wi-Fi.

Send help. Or snacks. Preferably both.