TRANSMIGRATED: I BECAME A LUNA WHO'S TO BE KILLED IN A WEEK

Lana stared at her laptop screen with the sort of hatred normally reserved for ex-boyfriends, tax collectors, and people who said werewolf romances were unrealistic.

“It is damn realistic..” She muttered.

The clock at the corner of her screen, read 1:47 a.m.

Her apartment was quiet, except for the humming air conditioner and the occasional clicking of her keyboard.

An empty snack wrapper lay beside her elbow, three pens were scattered across the desk, while her coffee had gone cold hours ago.

None of that mattered.

Her heroine was dying, again.

Lana leaned closer to the screen.

She read the paragraph she had just written.

“Luna Isadora stood at the edge of the balcony, unaware that the poison had already spread through her bloodstream.. Behind her, Seraphina smiled.”

Lana frowned.

“Not dramatic enough.”

She highlighted the entire paragraph, delete.

She typed another.

“Oh, hell no.” She whispered

She highlighted the entire paragraph again, and deleted it.

She leaned back frustratingly, and folded her arms.

“Terrific..Terrific.”

The problem wasn't that Isadora died.

Lana had already decided from the very beginning, that Isadora had to die.

She was the political wife of Alpha Cassian Blackwood, and her existence stood between Cassian, and the woman he supposedly loved, Seraphina Valle.

In Lana's carefully constructed story, Cassian and Seraphina had been childhood sweethearts. They were destined to be together, at least, according to the emotional logic Lana had created for them to end up together.

Unfortunately, Isadora had powerful family connections.

She had been chosen as Cassian's Luna, because her family could strengthen Silver Moon Pack, politically.

In the story, Seraphina hated that.

Naturally, Lana had made Isadora the obstacle.

And now, she had decided to remove the obstacle.

Lana cracked her knuckles.

“Let's try again.”

She began typing.

“Isadora took the poisoned cup..”

She stopped.

“Hell no!.. This is too obvious.”

She deleted it, and rewrote the plot again.

“Isadora walked into the forest..”

She frowned

“Wow, Lana.. She walked into the forest.. Really?”

She deleted it.

“Seraphina pushed her from a cliff..”

Lana stared at the sentence.

“Overly dramatic, Lana..”

She considered it for three seconds.

“Nah..”

She deleted again.

Then, she sighed, and rubbed her eyes.

Writing villains was always exhausting, writing deaths was even more worse.

But, writing romantic deaths, while knowing thousands of readers would probably complain about the heroine being treated unfairly, was practically a full-time emotional crime.

Lana glanced at the clock.

“1:59 a.m.” She whispered.

“Okay... Isadora, I'm sorry babe, But...”

She placed her fingers on the keyboard.

“You're going to die... I mean, you have to die.”

She typed faster.

“It's the only way to bring Cassian and seraphina together.”

This time, the scene came off easily.

Isadora wouldn't die months into the story, she wouldn't die after some elaborate plots, neither would she survive long enough to become sympathetic.

But, would die in seven days.

Exactly seven days after the beginning of the story, Isadora would die.

The assassination attempt would involve several carefully arranged events like, a poisoned drink, manipulated servants, tampered clothing, and finally a betrayal that would make Cassian believe she had brought her own downfall upon herself.

Lana reread the scene.

Her eyes widened.

“Oh my god, Lana.”

She smiled.

“That is so cruel of you.”

She leaned back, impressed with herself.

“This is actually really cruel.”

She continued reading.

“Isadora's fingers loosened around the wineglass, her vision blurred.”

“Across the room, Seraphina watched her fall with pride.”

Lana covered her mouth dramatically.

“Oh my Goodness.”

She laughed.

“Damn!.. Those readers are gonna hate me for this.”

She paused, then grinned.

“They're going to love me nevertheless, for creating such a twist.”

She reached for her coffee.

“Sorry, Isadora.. It's nothing personal.”

She took a sip, and made a face.

“Ugh.. So cold.”

She placed the cup beside her laptop, and stretched.

Then, she looked at the manuscript again.

“Seven days..” She whispered.

“You get seven days of suffering, my dear Isadora... Then, you're gone.”

She saved the document.

The little spinning icon appeared.

Lana waited, nothing happened.

She clicked again, it kept spinning but didn't save up.

She tried again.

Still, nothing happened.

Her smile disappeared.

“Don't you dare do this.”

Then suddenly, the screen froze.

Lana stared.

“No.. not again.”

She moved the mouse, nothing happened.

She frowned.

“Seems like this crazy laptop, is a weapon fashioned against me, from hell itself.”

She pressed a key again, still, nothing happened.

“Oh, come on..”

The laptop remained completely unresponsive.

Lana's eye twitched.

“Definitely, not tonight.”

She pressed Ctrl, Alt, Delete.

But, nothing happened.

She tried again, still nothing.

“Come on!”

She slapped the side of the laptop.

The screen flickered.

Lana immediately regretted it.

“Okay.. I'm sorry.. Violence wasn't necessary.”

The laptop made a strange buzzing sound.

Lana leaned closer.

“Please don't explode.. You know, i wouldn't be able to purchase a new laptop if you're gone.”

The screen went black.

She gasped.

“My manuscript..”

She frantically pressed the power button.

Nothing happened.

“No, no, no, no..”

She grabbed her phone, and searched for a solution.

“Restart.. Force shutdown.. Unplug charger.. and check connection.”

She followed the instructions, while growing increasingly irritated.

Finally, she spotted the charging cable.

It had somehow become tangled around the leg of her chair.

She frowned.

“Seriously?”

She bent down, to pull it free.

The cable jerked.

Her elbow accidentally bumped the coffee cup, the cup overturned.

Lana watched in horror, as the remaining coffee spilled directly across the laptop.

“Oh no..”

The liquid ran over the keyboard, down to the side, heading straight towards the charging sockets.

Lana's eyes widened.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

She reached for the laptop.

A bright spark exploded.

There was a violent crack.

Then, electricity surged through her.

Lana screamed.

Her body was thrown backward, striking the floor.

For one ridiculous second, her only thought was that she had failed to save the final changes.

Then, everything went black.

***

Moments later, Lana felt something soft beneath her.

She frowned slightly, slowly, opening her eyes.

A chandelier hung above her, not her cheap ceiling light, but a chandelier.

She blinked.

“Okay.. I must be dreaming.”

She closed her eyes again.

“Maybe, i'm dead.”

That seemed reasonable.

She had been electrocuted earlier.

Therefore, she must have ascended to heaven, or descended to hell.

Considering how much she had tortured fictional women, she must have probably descended to hell.

Lana opened her eyes again.

The ceiling still remained.

She pushed herself upright.

Her head pounded violently.

She looked around, the room was extremely large

A massive bed stood beneath her, heavy curtains framed tall windows, while golden furniture decorated the room.

There were elegant paintings on the walls, a fireplace, and several ornate cabinets.

Lana stared.

“This isn't my apartment..”

She chuckled softly.

“It couldn't be your apartment, Lana.. You must be dreaming, or you've probably died and went to heaven.”

She climbed out of bed, her legs felt strangely weak.

She looked down.

A long white nightgown covered her body, while her hair brushed her waist.

Lana froze.

“My hair..”

She grabbed it anxiously.

It was long, really long, and red.

Lana's breathing stopped.

“No.. It can't be what i'm thinking.. Hell no.”

She stumbled towards the nearest mirror, almost tripping over the edge of the rug.

“Of course..” She muttered.

“Even in heaven, you're still clumsy.”

She reached the mirror, then she looked up.

A beautiful woman stared back.

Long red hair, jade-green eyes, delicate features, soft lips, and slender shoulders.

Lana touched her cheek, the woman in the mirror did the same.

She touched her hair, the reflection copied her.

“No...”

Her hand began trembling, she stepped backward.

“This isn't funny.”

She pinched her cheek, hard.

“Ow!”

She glared at the mirror.

“Okay.. Definitely not a dream.”

She slapped both cheeks lightly, then immediately regretted that too.

“Why am I doing this?.. Who the hell, wakes up inside a novel?”

She paced across the room.

“I need to wake up... That's it.. I'm unconscious somewhere. Maybe in a hospital, maybe the paramedics are standing around me right now.”

She stopped, and gasped.

“What if I'm dead?”

She considered that.

“No.. If I'm dead, I want a second chance.. I haven't even finished my novel.”

She stared at the woman again.

She knew that face, she had designed it herself.

She had even described it repeatedly in her manuscript, and had spent twenty minutes arguing with herself about if Isadora's eyes should be jade or emerald.

“Isadora..”

The name escaped her lips.

Lana's knees nearly gave out.

She grabbed the edge of the dresser immediately, staring at her reflection in horror.

“This can't be happening.”

She turned around, expecting someone to jump out, and yell that it was all a joke.

But, no one did.

The room remained silent.

She glanced at the bed, curtains, and funitures.

Every detail was familiar.

Not because she had seen it before, but because she had written it.

Lana's mouth fell open.

“Oh my God.”

She suddenly remembered the story she had been working on.

It's beginning, Isadora's introduction, the political marriage, Cassian, Seraphina, and then the poisoned wine after the final betrayal plot.

Her heart began pounding.

She rushed back towards the mirror.

“No..”

She shook her head.

“I didn't just wake up in my own novel.. Hell no!”

Her eyes filled with panic.

“I couldn't have..”

She looked at the woman, who was supposed to be the villainous obstacle in her romance novel.

The woman she had killed on paper, only minutes earlier.

Lana's voice became a whisper.

“I'm Isadora, the tragic Luna..”

She covered her mouth.

Then, another realization struck her.

She knew this story.

She knew every plot twist, betrayal, assassination, and every steps leading toward Isadora's death.

Lana's face went pale, because she remembered exactly how Isadora was going to die.