Reincarnated as a Doomed Villainess, I Must Marry the Duke of the North to Escape My Execution!!
A modern girl wakes up as a villainess in a manhwa and quickly learns her fiancé—the Crown Prince—is destined to kill her, so in pure panic and survival logic she does the only thing she can think of: rewrites her fate by aiming for the one man even scarier than him—the Duke of the North.
Warning: Contains stronglanguage, suggestive humor, and mature themes.
“Duke of the North—Sir Gojo, or whatever your title is! Please, marry me. I don’t have much to offer except my family name and my body—”
“Wh—what?! Wedding?! Me—?!”
My voice came out louder than I meant to, slightly hoarse like I’d just woken up mid-argument.
I pushed myself up too quickly, my head spinning for a second.
What happened last night?
I blinked, trying to piece it together.
I didn’t drink. I’m pretty sure I didn’t. And even if I did, there’s no way I ended up… here.
My hands pressed into the sheets beneath me. Soft. Way too soft.
Everything looked expensive. Clean. Put together in a way that didn’t feel real—like something straight out of a historical drama.
“…What the hell,” I muttered.
A woman stood nearby, dressed like a maid. Not “cosplay maid.” Not “theme café maid.”
“My lady, are you feeling unwell? Should I call for a physician?”
“I—I think I’m fine,” I said, slower this time.
My eyes moved around the room again.
Why does this feel familiar?
Not like I’ve been here before.
“I’ve seen this somewhere…”
“My lady?” she asked again.
I frowned, pressing my fingers lightly against my temple.
“I feel like I’ve seen this room before.”
She hesitated, then said carefully,
“…My lady, this is your bedroom.”
My gaze shifted to the vanity beside the bed.
Clear skin. Different features. Hair styled too neatly.
My grip tightened slightly.
“Isn’t this that bitch from that manhwa—”
The maid calling me “my lady.”
A quiet laugh slipped out, but it didn’t sound amused.
My eyes stayed locked on the reflection.
Two whole days in this absurd life, and I had done absolutely nothing except sit in this room and spiral.
I hadn’t stepped out. Not for meals, not for fresh air—nothing.
Thankfully, this body came with privileges.
As the favored second daughter of House Valemont, locking myself away wasn’t questioned. No chores, no responsibilities. Just silence.
Which would’ve been perfect…
“…This is insane,” I muttered, dragging my hands down my face.
A knock came before I could continue panicking.
“Enter,” I said quickly, forcing my voice steady.
The door opened, and she walked in.
Elegant. Composed. The kind of woman who didn’t need to raise her voice to be intimidating.
“My dear daughter,” she began, her gaze sweeping over me, “you’ve let yourself go. You must tidy your appearance.”
I glanced down at myself—half-slouched on the couch, the corset digging into my ribs, the dress wrinkled from how long I’d been sitting like this.
“…Yes, Mother,” I replied, straightening slightly.
Her eyes narrowed just a fraction.
“Posture,” she added calmly. “A lady of this house does not slouch.”
God, even sitting properly feels like a full-time job.
She took a seat across from me, lifting her teacup with effortless grace.
“Still,” she continued, studying my figure, “I commend you. Your discipline with your diet has shown results.”
More like I’ve been too stressed to eat without feeling like I’ll throw up.
“…Thank you, Mother,” I said, offering a polite smile that felt a little too tight.
“I appreciate your concern. Though, I wouldn’t wish to take too much of your time—”
“You cannot dismiss me so easily,” she cut in smoothly.
Her gaze settled on me, sharper now.
“We are here to discuss your wedding.”
My fingers curled slightly against my lap.
“Your long-awaited union,” she continued, as if this were a pleasant topic, “one you have insisted upon since childhood.”
“I have arranged for you to meet His Highness, the Crown Prince, tomorrow.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
My hands hit the table with a soft thud.
My mother slowly raised a brow, taking a delicate sip of her tea.
“…Forgive me,” I said quickly, forcing a small laugh. “I was merely… surprised. And—excited.”
Inside, my thoughts were anything but calm.
He didn’t just dislike the villainess.
In the story, he had already tried to get rid of her more than once before the wedding even happened.
That’s basically me walking straight into his line of sight.
“…Mother,” I started carefully, keeping my tone soft, “might it be possible to… reschedule the meeting?”
Her teacup paused midair.
Then, slowly, she set it down.
“…Reschedule?” she repeated.
The temperature in the room dropped.
“That is a most unreasonable request, Y/N.”
“The Crown Prince’s time is not something to be adjusted on a whim. You, of all people, should understand the importance of this engagement.”
That’s why I’m trying not to die from it.
“You must present yourself properly,” she continued, rising from her seat. “Do not forget—you carry the name of House Valemont. You will not embarrass us before His Highness.”
She turned toward the door.
Panic spiked in my chest.
She paused, but didn’t turn.
“You will attend tomorrow,” she said firmly.
The conversation was over.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Silence filled the room again.
I stared at the empty space for a long moment.
I let myself fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
A humorless laugh slipped out.
“Great. Amazing. Fantastic.”
My hands covered my face.
“I just got here and I’m already about to die.”
Then, slowly, I lowered my hands, eyes narrowing with a hint of something sharper.
“…Unless I don’t follow the script.”
Because if there’s one thing I remembered clearly—
I don’t have to marry the Crown Prince.
Someone the original villainess never dared approach.
The man everyone avoided.
The one place even the Crown Prince couldn’t easily touch.
“…The North,” I murmured.
A small, determined smile formed despite everything.
“If I’m going to survive…”
“I’m marrying him instead.”
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice like I was sharing state secrets.
“I’ll be sneaking out later. You will help me—and keep this absolutely between us. Or I’ll… I don’t know, slap you or something.”
There was a beat of silence.
I nodded to myself, satisfied.
Yes. Very threatening. Very noble. Very convincing.
I straightened up again, hands folded neatly in my lap like I hadn’t just issued emotional blackmail.
The maid—Lyria—blinked at me.
I’ve decided something important… since I already have a bad reputation. I might as well use the built-in privileges.
“…Shall I escort you, my lady?”
I waved her off casually.
“Instead, prepare a carriage. I need to meet the Duke of the North.”
“My lady?! Surely you are not intending to meet that Duke?!”
Her face went pale like I’d just said I was going to wrestle a dragon barefoot.
“…I intend to! you’re dismissed!” can’t let her know much
She looked genuinely alarmed now.
“I will… I will prepare the carriage immediately!”
So that’s the reputation he has here.
I smirked slightly as she rushed out of the room.
Alone again, I leaned back in my chair.
Time to work with what I’ve got.
As someone who had read way too many manhwa at 2 a.m. instead of sleeping like a normal person, I remembered bits and pieces about him.
Cold, untouchable, terrifying in battle—
…and apparently weirdly weak for sweets.
That was the whole detail.
I stood up and looked down at the small box on the table.
Not exactly something from this world, but close enough to pass as “foreign delicacy” if I played it right.
“…Alright,” I muttered to myself.
“If I’m going to gamble my entire survival on a man I’ve never met…”
“…At least let it be with dessert.”
I picked up the box, adjusting my expression into something confidently unreadable.
“Duke of the North,” I said under my breath, stepping toward the carriage waiting outside.
“Please don’t be allergic to mochi.”
Walking through a public market without attendants was something the second daughter of House Valemont had never done before. And yet, here I was—cloaked plainly, carrying my own belongings, surrounded by strangers who did not bow, greet, or whisper my name. It felt strangely peaceful.
House Valemont. One of the empire’s most influential noble families. A family famous for power—and for raising its greatest embarrassment.
In the original story, Lady Y/N Valemont was remembered for only one thing: her obsession with the Crown Prince. Since childhood, she had cried, pleaded, and clung to her parents’ robes, begging to be promised to him. The engagement had eventually been secured through political pressure rather than affection.
A prince who despised her.
A prince who loved another woman.
And a future where the “villainess fiancée” conveniently died before the wedding.
Poison. Assassins. A falling chandelier. The novel had been very creative.
I touched my neck unconsciously as I walked. I would prefer not to die repeatedly.
The moment my memories returned, I understood my only path to survival: cancel the obsession, avoid the Crown Prince, disappear somewhere he would never bother to look.
Which left only one option.
Untouchable. Isolated. A man even the royal family avoided. If I married him, the Crown Prince would finally lose interest in eliminating me. A political marriage was infinitely preferable to assassination attempts.
I tightened my hold on the wooden box in my arms. Inside lay carefully prepared mochi. In the novel, there had been one insignificant line—the northern duke possessed an unexpected fondness for sweets. It was barely mentioned, but I intended to stake my life on it.
I turned a corner, focused on rehearsing polite greetings—and collided directly with someone.
The impact sent me stumbling. The box slipped from my hands. The lid flew open. Mochi scattered across the ground.
I dropped instantly, gathering them in alarm. Dust clung to the soft rice cakes. One flattened entirely beneath a passing boot. My shoulders slumped.
“…How am I supposed to bribe the Duke now…” I muttered helplessly.
Slowly, painfully, I realized I was not alone.
A tall man stood before me, wrapped in a dark cloak. His posture was relaxed, almost leisurely, as though watching an amusing play.
He definitely heard that.
I cleared my throat and resumed collecting the sweets with dignity. Five-second rule, I reassured myself internally. Surely northern nobles value determination.
I brushed one piece carefully against my sleeve and placed it back into the box. Another followed. Waste was unacceptable.
Without hesitation, I ate one of the slightly dusty pieces.
“You intend to bribe the Duke of the North?”
I nearly inhaled the mochi whole.
“You spoke quite clearly.”
His tone was calm. Curious. Infuriatingly composed.
I stood, lifting my chin. “A lady is allowed private thoughts.”
His gaze lingered on me, faint amusement hidden beneath his hood.
“A distracted lady walked into me,” he added mildly.
My eye twitched. “You cannot even apologize?”
“I believe we share responsibility.”
I gestured at the ruined sweets. “These were handmade.”
“You continue eating them.”
I placed another into my mouth with resolve. He watched in silence.
“…You are a noblewoman,” he said slowly.
“And this does not trouble you?”
“I have survived worse humiliations.”
Such as begging the Crown Prince for affection in front of half the imperial court. Compared to that, dusty mochi was nothing.
A quiet laugh escaped him—low and warm. It startled me. I straightened immediately, remembering my role. Elegant posture. Calm expression. I was still Lady Valemont, even while eating fallen desserts.
“I must continue north,” I said. “Please step aside.”
And there I go to my journey to live.
The audience chamber of the northern estate was colder than I expected. Not unpleasant. Just… severe.
Tall windows allowed pale northern light to spill across polished floors, illuminating banners marked with a crest I had only ever seen described in the novel. Every step I took echoed faintly, reminding me that I had walked willingly into the territory of the most untouchable man in the empire.
And now—I sat across from him.
White hair fell loosely around his face, catching the light like frost. His eyes—clear, piercing blue—rested on me with unsettling focus. Broad shoulders filled the dark uniform he wore, posture relaxed yet impossibly commanding.
He was beautiful. Unfairly so. And far more terrifying up close.
A man capable of surviving political isolation does not become gentle, I reminded myself.
Which only made this harder.
A table separated us, the wooden box of mochi resting carefully between my hands like a shield.
“So,” he said at last, voice smooth and calm, “what brings you here unannounced, my lady?”
His gaze moved slowly over me. Assessing. Measuring.
He is definitely inspecting me.
I resisted the urge to adjust my sleeves.
Perhaps I should have worn something more revealing.
“Y-Your Grace,” I began, then corrected myself quickly, “Duke… I am Y/N Valemont.”
“Well, of course you are,” he replied, lips curving faintly. “You are quite infamous.”
The obsessive fiancée. The jealous noblewoman. The empire’s most embarrassing villainess.
I forced a composed smile.
He was smirking. He was absolutely enjoying this.
He’s cocky, I realized. Dangerously cocky.
Good. I could work with arrogance.
“I have come,” I said carefully, “to present a business proposal.”
He leaned back slightly, surprise flickering across his expression.
“A business proposal?” he repeated, clearly amused. “From Lady Valemont?”
His gaze sharpened. Then his smile turned knowingly wicked.
“My lady… are you asking for assistance regarding the Crown Prince? Are you not still engaged?”
Of course that was what he assumed.
Everyone believed my world revolved around the prince.
“You misunderstand,” I said quietly. “It is quite the opposite.”
Before he could respond, I slid the wooden box toward him and opened it.
The mochi rested neatly inside—carefully chosen, carefully preserved.
“My request can wait,” I added. “Please taste this first.”
He looked down at the sweets. Then back at me.
Suspicion flickered openly now.
“You traveled to the North… carrying desserts?”
Then, slowly, he picked one up.
I clasped my hands together beneath the table, praying silently to every possible deity.
Please like sweets. Please let the novel be accurate.
And the change was immediate.
The faint severity in his expression softened. His eyes widened just slightly, surprise replacing caution.
Hope sparked in my chest.
He finished the piece without realizing how quickly he had eaten it.
“M-my lady,” he said, almost thoughtfully, “what is this delicacy?”
Relief nearly made me laugh.
“It is called mochi,” I replied, allowing myself a small smile. “I can prepare many varieties. Sweeter ones. Softer ones. Even better than this.”
His gaze returned to me, interest unmistakable now.
I folded my hands together, gathering what remained of my courage.
“However,” I continued, allowing confidence to slip into my voice, “there is a condition. Surely Your Grace understands—nothing offered by a lady such as myself is free.”
A slow smile appeared on his face.
His tone carried amusement… and curiosity.
“As the second daughter of House Valemont, my proposal benefits us both,” I began carefully. “You gain political connection to a powerful central family. Increased influence at court. And… a wife who will not interfere with your actions.”
He watched me closely now. Not amused anymore. Interested. Measuring every word.
Then I stood abruptly, bowing deeply before I could lose courage.
“Duke of the North—Sir Gojo… whatever title you prefer,” I said quickly, words rushing despite my effort at elegance, “please marry me!”
Silence filled the chamber.
I continued before fear could stop me.
“I do not seek affection. I will not demand attention. I offer only my family name, my loyalty, and—”
Then forced the words out.
“bod—myself, as political value.”
The room felt unbearably quiet.
When I finally dared to look up—
Not menacing. Not amused.
Something far more dangerous.
Slowly, the Duke leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand.
A smile spread across his lips.
“So,” he murmured, voice low with unmistakable delight, “the empire’s infamous villainess travels across half the continent…”
His blue eyes locked onto mine.
“To propose to me instead the Duke. While being engaged to the crown prince”
“How bold, Lady Valemont.”
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