red velvet dumb dumb

Vivian Hale transmigrates into a novel. She is assigned one goal—irritate the tyrant emperor badly enough that he puts her out of her misery, collects her hundred million, and goes home. She schemes, she provokes, she causes chaos at every turn. The Emperor just laughs, pulls her closer, and absolutely refuses to cooperate. What she doesn’t know yet is why. Adrian Kingsley has died and been reborn three times, watching her meet the same terrible ending each time, and has spent every subsequent lifetime dismantling the forces that killed her before she even knows they exist. When the truth finally surfaces, he takes her face in his hands, eyes red, and makes her one quiet promise—his life for hers, every time, as many times as it takes. Vivian, who came here to die on purpose, finds herself suddenly and inconveniently unwilling to lose him.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.