"Help me... Don't kill me!"

The night was as dark as ink.

Under the blood-red moon, a woman covered in wounds desperately ran through the forest.

"Roar!"

A beast's roar, filled with killing intent, rolled out from behind her.

The woman's knees buckled at the sound. She tripped and fell hard to the ground.

"Don't come any closer! I don’t want to die! You can't kill me…"

She screamed and clawed forward, but her legs were already tangled in a web of black vines.

She turned her head back in despair.

A black dragon, massive and vicious, loomed over her, jaws wide and deadly close.

In the next moment, her body was torn apart. Blood and flesh sprayed through the air, splattering onto the dark, hatred-filled eyes of the beast.

“Ahhh!!”

Her gut-wrenching screams echoed endlessly through the forest.

Ella Robshaw jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.

It was horrifying. She had dreamed that she became the cannon fodder character in the beast-world novel she’d been reading recently, only to be torn apart alive by the terrifying villain.

The dream felt disturbingly real—the despair, the terror, even the pain of her body being ripped limb from limb.

Ella could barely tell if it was just a dream or if it had actually happened."Ella Robinson, you’re shameless! Using Mandrake Fruit on Hunter Hawthorne? Disgusting!"

"Hunter Hawthorne likes Lila, not you. Even if you throw yourself at him, he wouldn’t spare you a glance. Get lost and stop embarrassing yourself!"

A contemptuous voice full of fury rang out behind her.

Ella spun around and saw a burly woman pointing a finger at her, face twisted in disgust as she yelled.

The woman had short brown hair, an unremarkable face, dressed like some wild hermit. Her sun-darkened muscles bulged, looking as if she could crush someone’s skull with a single punch.

"Uh… are you talking to me?" Ella asked, somewhat bewildered, and gestured at herself.

Hunter Hawthorne… why did that name sound so familiar?

She glanced around, confirming there were only the two of them here—her and this strange woman.

The surroundings felt completely alien, dense vegetation everywhere. Nearby stood a wooden cabin, strange noises occasionally escaping from within, though Ella had no energy or interest to investigate.

"I'm Ella Robinson, sure. But I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about. You must’ve mistaken me for someone else," she explained politely, then added the question nagging her most.

"Could you tell me where I am?" "Ella Robshaw! Stop pretending to be dumb. Hunter's already mated with Lila. Someone like you, shameless and pathetic, is only fit to mate with a loser like Damian Warren. A perfect match for trash!"

Bridget Dawson sneered, her face full of disdain. She'd seen Ella's antics before and thought this was just another of her ploys.

Damian Warren?

Wait—wasn't that the main villain in the beast world novel? A mighty dragon shifter, who, after blackening, became the strongest force in the story!

Did she... transmigrate into the book?

Ella froze, her steps faltering as a chill ran down her spine. She stammered, desperate for confirmation, "How... how do you know my name? Is it the 'fox' Ella, or the 'nonsense' Ella?"

She suddenly remembered how she mocked the similarity of their names while reading the book. That memory now felt like a cruel joke.

The Ella Robshaw in the story was spoiled rotten, selfish, and willful. Obsessed with Hunter Hawthorne, she resorted to all sorts of dirty tricks to get close to him.

But he was the male lead, and she? Just cannon fodder.

In the end, the female lead, Lila Hawthorne, shoved her straight onto Damian Warren's bed in a fit of anger. The worst part? She ended up bearing his children—a whole brood. Resentful and humiliated, she treated the kids as punching bags. Her abusive behavior earned her the scorn of the entire tribe, save for her own parents and brother.

The nightmare she'd seen felt all too real. If that future truly awaited her... Ella shivered violently, cold fear gripping her heart. She had read the later parts of the book. Ella Robshaw wasn’t killed immediately after Damian Warren ripped her limbs apart. No, the cubs saved her—but not to help her. They brought her back just to torment her, day and night. The pain, the humiliation—it made death seem like mercy. Out of everyone in the story, she truly was the most pitiful character.

"Crazy! Get lost!" Bridget Dawson looked at her like she was some lunatic, shoving her roughly. "Clearly, you’ve knocked your head stupid."

"Ah…"

Before Ella could react, she was on the ground. The fall tore small cuts into her arm from the jagged stones scattered on the dirt, but the haziness in her head was worse.

On instinct, her hand went to the stabbing pain in the back of her head. When she pulled it away and looked—blood. Blood.

When did she get hurt?

That’s when a soft, feminine voice came from behind, "Bridget, that’s enough. Let her figure things out herself."

Ella gritted her teeth against the pain and turned toward the voice.

The woman was as gentle in appearance as her tone. Her delicate face was flushed, cheeks glowing as if someone had painted on thick rouge. Her swollen lips bore faint teeth marks, and every inch of her small body—wrapped haphazardly in a yellow beast pelt—was littered with bruises and suspicious marks.

"Lila, you… Finished mating with Hunter Hawthorne?"

Suddenly hearing that name, Bridget’s face brightened. She strode toward Lila Hawthorne eagerly. “Hmm.” Lila Hawthorne nodded shyly.

Bridget Dawson finally relaxed after getting the confirmation. She turned to glare at Ella Robinson. “Did you hear that? Hunter Hawthorne is Lila’s mate now. Get lost!”

Ella Robinson froze as the conversation sunk in. Then, the noises she overheard earlier clicked, and realization hit her like a rock.

She’d landed right in the middle of the main couple’s mating session.

The original Ella Robinson, full of disdain for Damian Warren, even after bearing his cubs, had schemed to lure Hunter Hawthorne with a mandrake fruit laced with aphrodisiac properties, hoping to trap him. But Lila Hawthorne had caught wind of it, pushed her away, and sent her crashing headfirst, knocking her out cold.

Lila, of course, conveniently stepped in to “help” Hunter.

Classic cannon fodder. Too pitiful, really.

Ella muttered sarcastic remarks in her head, eyes flicking over the marks on Lila’s skin. Not bad, Mr. Male Lead. You went wild!

Wait a second…

She snapped back to reality as her chest tightened. She *was* Ella Robinson now. And all that misfortune? That was hers to take.

Ella—no, Fox Ella—was utterly lost. She *really* didn’t want to end up ripped apart by the dark villain.

Suppressing the urge to sob, she scrambled to her feet.

Bridget Dawson watched her every move with narrowed eyes, ready for the spoiled troublemaker to lash out again."Uh... I just have one question. Just one, and then I'll leave." Feeling the hostility in Bridget Dawson's gaze, Ella Robshaw quickly raised her small hand, her tone timid and pleading. "Can you tell me where my home is?"

Ella remembered that the big villain’s descent into darkness was largely because her original self had abandoned him and the kids, calling him useless. His first act after turning dark had been to kill her as revenge.

If she could stop him from turning dark, she could avoid her tragic end!

She needed to get home and win over the villain and the kids.

The problem? She only knew the plot. Without the original’s memories, she had no idea where to go!

Feeling humiliated, Bridget Dawson’s veins bulged as she roared, enraged, “Ella Robshaw! Enough of your dumb act. Get lost!”

“I’m going, I’m going!”

Terrified, Ella ducked, shielding her head, and bolted without looking back.