The first page of the Project Aurora file was crisp beneath her fingertips, the print sharp and clean, the scent of ink still faintly present as though her father had flipped through it only days ago.
Of course—he had.
This file was one of the last he'd reviewed before the accident.
Her breath steadied.
The weight of the moment settled over her shoulders.
She turned the page.
A heading in bold letters stretched across the top.
Project Aurora: Strategic Expansion Proposal
Prepared by: Seo Ji-won, Chairman
Lead Departments: R&D, Strategic Planning, Overseas Partnerships
Status: Pending Board Review
Her eyes scanned the content quickly but methodically.
Project Aurora was ambitious—too ambitious.
It involved a cross-border technology collaboration with a European firm, potential green-energy infrastructure investment, and a new manufacturing line that could place Seo Hwa Group ahead of competing conglomerates for the next decade.
The projected numbers were enormous.
The potential profits were staggering.
The risks were obvious.
And the enemies were inevitable.
She flipped the page.
Margins were filled with her father's handwritten notes, corrections, thoughts, a few question marks and arrows. His handwriting was neat, assertive, confident—the handwriting of a man who carried an empire on his back.
She traced a line lightly with her fingertip.
"Dad…"
The word stuck in her throat, unspoken.
The villainess in the original story had never even glanced at her father's work, let alone understood the weight he carried. She had been wrapped up in childish jealousy, emotional spirals, and shamefully trivial problems while her father fought off corporate predators.
Not this time.
Yeon-hwa inhaled and turned another page.
The next section was written in a different hand.
Prepared by: Executive Director Choi Min-sung
Her eyes narrowed.
She remembered him from the novel—one of the snakes. One of the directors who had sided with Changwoon Group in the end, selling internal secrets and pushing for a hostile takeover.
In the original plot, he played a pivotal role in tearing Seo Hwa apart.
Her pulse quickened. She read his analysis.
Projected revenue: unrealistic optimism
Operational cost: underestimated
Foreign partners: unstable
Department readiness: questionable
Recommendation: Delay project by six months or cancel entirely
Risk level: Extreme
Her jaw clenched.
It wasn't rare for executives to disagree with ambitious projects. But something about his notes felt off—too negative, too exaggerated, too biased. As if intentionally weakening the project to trigger doubt and internal conflict.
She flipped to the next page.
Another section appeared—this time labeled:
Analyst Summary Provided by Changwoon Group (Unofficial Copy)
Her stomach dropped.
Why would a competitor's analysis be inside her father's private file?
She leaned closer.
Changwoon Group projected that Seo Hwa would fail in:
Market expansion
Cost forecasting
Foreign negotiation
Long-term viability
Each point was argued in chilling, precise language. The tone wasn't analytical—it was predatory.
These weren't warnings.
These were expectations.
Predictions.
Threats.
And the date at the top of the report?
Two weeks before her father's accident.
Her hand tightened around the page, nails digging into the paper. A cold chill crawled down her spine.
The original villainess version of her never saw any of this. She never entered this room. She never touched a single document. She only knew her father had an accident, cried, spiraled, and collapsed emotionally.
But now—
The pieces were rearranging themselves in her mind.
She looked at the margin notes again.
Her father had responded to the Changwoon analysis with a single phrase:
"Unacceptable interference."
Interference.
Not analysis.
Not criticism.
Interference.
She flipped the next page faster this time, the urgency rising.
There was another note.
This time, scribbled hastily—almost angry.
"Find the leak."
Leak.
Leak.
Her father knew there was a spy inside the company.
Suddenly, the study room felt too quiet.
Too still.
As if the walls themselves held secrets.
A faint chime echoed in her mind.
[System Alert]
Suspicious activity discovered: early trace
Progress: 14 percent
She blinked slowly, absorbing it.
So she was right.
The accident wasn't random.
Her father's fall from the stairs—the one the novel described vaguely—had been treated as pure coincidence.
But novels never showed everything.
Real worlds had shadows novels didn't write.
She returned to the file.
The deeper she read, the more the tension built in her chest. Project Aurora wasn't just ambitious. It was dangerous. It threatened competitors. It would shift market landscapes. And if it succeeded, Seo Hwa Group would rise above its rivals.
Including Changwoon Group.
Which meant—
Someone needed it to fail.
And they needed Chairman Seo Ji-won out of the way.
Her hand shook slightly.
She forced herself to steady it.
She forced herself to breathe.
If she panicked now, she would never make it.
So she read on.
Page after page.
Report after report.
Her father's handwriting.
Executive opinions.
External summaries.
Cost analyses.
Risk matrices.
Department evaluations.
Slowly, clarity formed.
Someone had manipulated the internal numbers.
Someone had overestimated the risks intentionally.
Someone had provided internal data to Changwoon Group.
And someone had handed Changwoon's "unofficial analysis" back to Chairman Seo Ji-won.
A closed loop.
A trap disguised as a project.
She leaned back in the chair, rubbing her temples.
A life she didn't live had left a burden she didn't deserve, but she was holding it now. She understood, more than the villainess ever could, the sheer scale of power and danger circulating around her family.
Her father had enemies.
Her father had been targeted.
And she had inherited all of it.
A soft glow reappeared in her vision.
[Knowledge Absorption Rate: 42 percent]
She blinked.
The system continued.
[Sub-Mission: Review Chairman's Reports]
Progress: 1 / 3 completed
Rewards pending
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
She wasn't failing.
She wasn't behind.
She wasn't drowning.
She was learning.
She flipped to another set of documents—this time labeled "Internal Monthly Summary." The writing shifted tone completely. Numbers. Charts. Graphs. Dense corporate terminology that would have intimidated anyone with business ability at level one.
Her eyes scanned slowly at first.
But then—
as she read further—
she began to understand.
Maybe not deeply.
Maybe not perfectly.
But she began connecting dots.
Department expenditures.
Profit margins.
R&D estimates.
Export costs.
Foreign partnerships.
She wrote notes in her notebook, summarizing what she understood and marking what she needed to look up later.
She drew arrows.
Underlined terms.
Circled suspicious figures.
Listed questions.
Hours passed without her noticing.
The sun outside the study room window shifted slowly, casting long shadows across the floor. The golden hue of afternoon turned into deeper shades of orange. The room warmed, then cooled, then dimmed around her, but her focus remained unbroken.
And for the first time since she arrived in this world—
she felt like she was moving in the right direction.
She reached another folder.
Chairman Seo's Personal Notes — Restricted Only
Her hand hesitated.
Restricted only.
His personal notes.
His thoughts.
She opened the folder.
The first page was dated a month before his accident.
"Aurora is the future. But the board is divided. I need loyalty—not fear. Someone is undermining us. Choi Min-sung cannot be trusted. His numbers don't match the analyst team's reports."
She pressed her lips together.
Her father had known.
He had been trying to find the traitor.
He had been fighting alone.
Another page.
"Our international partner postponed their confirmation. Possible interference from Changwoon. Investigate privately."
And the last page.
"Meeting tomorrow. Must present adjusted projections. If numbers leak again… something is wrong internally. Need security detail increased."
The date—
the very next morning—
was the day of his accident.
She closed her eyes.
She didn't cry.
She didn't break.
She didn't let emotion drown her.
She just breathed.
When she opened her eyes again, the system appeared.
[Mission Progress Updated]
[Knowledge Absorption: 73 percent]
[Business Ability: +4]
[Logic: +2]
New stats flickered:
Business Ability: 5 / 100
Logic: 27 / 100
Progress toward Mission: 70 percent
Her lips parted.
Progress.
Real progress.
For once, she wasn't powerless.
She reached the final page. Her father had marked a name:
Lee Joon-ha
Finance Team Deputy
Possible involvement
Investigate discreetly
Her heart pounded.
This wasn't in the novel.
This person was never mentioned in her storyline.
Which meant the novel never showed the truth.
The villainess had been shown only the shadow of a disaster—not the monster behind it.
She leaned back in the chair, breathing deeply.
She had a name now.
A thread to pull.
A direction to follow.
She looked at the clock.
Ten hours until midnight.
Ten hours to finish the mission.
Her hand steadied.
"I can do this."
The system chimed in approval.
[New sub-mission unlocked: Learn financial terms]
Reward: +1 Business Ability
She opened a basic finance textbook from the shelf, flipping through pages filled with unfamiliar terms.
But she read.
And read.
And kept reading.
Budget forecasting.
Annual reports.
Equity distribution.
Market volatility.
Risk assessment.
Debt ratio.
Cash flow.
Her notebook filled line by line.
Her back stiffened.
Her neck ached.
Her fingers cramped.
But she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
When she turned another page, something slipped out—a small photograph. It fluttered down onto her lap.
She picked it up.
Her father.
Smiling.
Standing beside a foreign businessman.
Behind them: a banner reading
"Aurora Preliminary Partnership"
Her father looked confident.
Bright.
Proud.
She swallowed.
Someone had destroyed all of that.
Not in the novel.
In real life.
Someone had watched him build everything
then cut the ground from beneath him.
She placed the photo gently inside her notebook.
A reminder.
A promise.
She returned to the reports.
To the numbers.
To the danger hidden in plain sight.
Hours blurred.
Light dimmed.
Her world narrowed to paper, ink, and the pulse of determination inside her chest.
And slowly—
steadily—
she grew stronger.
Her mind sharper.
Her understanding clearer.
Her fear replaced with strategy.
When she finally set down her pen, the system glowed again.
[Sub-Mission Completed]
Business Ability +2
Logic +1
[Mission Progress: 84 percent]
Not enough.
Not complete.
But close.
She closed her father's final report.
And whispered into the quiet room—
"Don't worry, Dad.
I'm going to finish what you started."
The study room felt warmer.
Brighter.
Less lonely.
She stood up.
Her legs trembled slightly—but she didn't fall.
She had work to do.
An empire to protect.
A truth to uncover.
A war to fight.
And she wasn't the villainess anymore.
She was someone new.
Someone dangerous.
Tomorrow, the world would begin to notice.
But tonight?
Tonight belonged to her alone.
To study.
To strengthen.
To prepare.
She picked up the next report.
And kept reading.