Chapter 1 : The Whole Story Behind the Delusion and the Scheme

There’s a saying that goes, “When a person dies, they are greeted by the first completed romance fantasy novel they read.”

Usually, those that go “This character is so pitiful! If it were me…!” would get hit by the possession truck and become that character.

But I, who had lived in a conflict zone, opened my eyes after a fighter jet bombing and found myself in the body of a maid named “Cynthia” who worked for the House of Count Queensguard.

Having worked here from a young age, Cynthia’s life was nothing short of tragic.

By this point, any person would’ve turned evil, but Cynthia was kind to the core.

“Too kind for her own good just like me…”

Not even knowing the original story, I pitifully rested a hand on my cheek after being cast in such a miserable role.

The reason I was sure I was inside a novel was because it felt similar to a novel I’d briefly read before.

The genres I read were mostly rom-coms, salvation-type, and healing stories. Those “mutual salvation” ones where the sunny female lead heals the broken male lead.

So this must be one of those kinds of novels.

“Phew, good thing I don’t like dark, angsty novels.”

As I sat in my room and sighed in relief, a senior maid burst in, slamming the door.

“Hey, you Esaht mongrel.”

The Count’s servants called me the “Esaht mongrel.”

The Esaht people were a persecuted minority known for their white hair just like mine, so everyone assumed I was a mixed-blood Esaht.

“I’m not a mongrel. I just have a genetic mutation.”

I kindly corrected her.

My white hair, pale skin, and light red eyes were due to “albinism.”

At my reply, her brow twitched and she raised her voice sharply.

“Even so, you’re still just a cursed white rat! Young Master Carlos is looking for you, so get going!

“Yes.”

Annoying bosses exist in every genre.

I got up from my seat and headed straight to Carlos’s room.

***

Carlos Queensguard.

The eldest son and heir of the Queensguard family.

A handsome man with ashen-gold hair and blue eyes, who loved a decadent lifestyle.

First off, he was definitely not the male lead.

“Cynthia, it’s time to repay your debt. You promised me your life, remember?”

He wasn’t even the redeemable type, but a bastard who just took advantage of Cynthia’s weakness.

From what remained of Cynthia’s memories, she had accidentally committed murder at seventeen.

There had been a gambling drunkard who claimed to be her father and exploited her. He would occasionally be violent towards her and when Cynthia resisted by pushing him, he hit his head and crossed the River Styx.

Carlos had found out by chance and covered up the crime and touched by this, Cynthia not only devoted her life to him, but gave him her heart as well.

Thus began an even more twisted relationship of exploitation.

“How long do I have to keep repaying this endless debt…?”

I muttered under my breath.

For the record, debts of weakness and love can’t be repaid until death.

Not until either the debtor or the creditor dies.

“This will be the last time, Cynthia.”

This love-debt-collecting scumbag, no better than her awful father, slowly continued.

“Two marriage proposals have arrived at our household.”

“Are they for you and Lady Helene?”

I excluded the second son, Edford, from my guess.

He hadn’t inherited the count’s good looks nor was he competent, so there was no way he’d receive a marriage proposal.

“No. Both proposals were made by men. As our family has only one daughter, we’d only choose one…”

He gave my fingers a little squeeze and smiled.

“But both suitors made incredible offers. After all, we carry the last of royal blood.”

The late countess had been a princess of the fallen Variessa royal family, which had collapsed over 20 years ago.

A revolution had wiped out the royal family, but she had eloped with the count beforehand, leaving behind children of royal blood.

Carlos then reached his conclusion.

“You’ll become a daughter of the Queensguard family and marry the other.”

Urging someone to marry another man? Is that something you say to a woman who loved and devoted herself to you?

“Is he handsome? I care about looks.”

If he’s handsome, then he’s probably the male lead.

Although my guess that the male lead might be the “Grand Duke of the North”—based on my extensive romance fantasy reading—turned out to be wrong (he was actually 95 years old), the story seemed similar to one I briefly read called <I Was a Fake Bride, But Became the Real One>.

It was a cute and adorable rom-com where the male lead finds out the female lead’s identity as a fake bride, but pretends not to know out of fear that she’ll run away.

Carlos frowned slightly as he watched me get lost in thought.

“You’ve been acting strange lately. Anyway, once you claim that man’s fortune, you can stay with me for the rest of your life. Just bear with it for a little longer.”

Must I really?

“A-Ah, yes!”

I gave a vague, affirmative response.

First, I had to find the male lead if I wanted to get the story moving, so I had no choice but to bet on that possibility.

In my case, I only had one option anyway.

Refusing such an incredible proposal would mean death, so I had to survive and look for a way out.

More than anything, I’d always been unusually lucky.

I did meet a grim end in my past life, but now I get to start over in a story when I’ll eventually find happiness, so isn’t that quite fortunate?

I decided to trust in my luck.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of luck suited for gambling or lotteries.

***

The person who first came up with the “bloodline fraud marriage” was none other than Carlos’s father, the Count of Queensguard.

He spoke to Cynthia, who stood before him.

“This is a golden opportunity to rise in status and live in luxury.”

This place was far from the capital, in the outskirts of the region.

Count Queensguard’s children didn’t attend social gatherings for safety reasons and little about them was publicly known, so all they needed to do was silence the servants.

He scanned Cynthia’s uncommon appearance from head to toe and then opened his mouth to speak.

“If anyone gets suspicious, I’ll handle it. Just say you lost your childhood memories in an accident.”

“I actually don’t have any childhood memories though.”

Three months after the possession, Cynthia had retained some of the original body’s memories, but not everything.

The count grimaced as he changed the subject.

“Your husband-to-be is a war hero of the Republic, and an incredibly wealthy man. You could even say he’s the best groom.”

Cynthia then asked—

“Why are you sending me to the best groom instead of Lady Helene?”

Helene was his biological daughter and Carlos’s younger sister.

It was a sharp question, but the Cynthia he usually thought of was not a bright person.

“Helene is set to marry a duke.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t be able to meet the high etiquette standards of a ducal household. A few days of training won’t cut it.”

He didn’t bother to mention the notorious rumors that Brigadier General Vicente was a brutal and lunatic killer.

‘No amount of money can make me send my daughter to such a demon. He comes from a poor background anyway.’

Even so, he couldn’t reject the demon’s proposal.

After the war, the industrial revolution spurred explosive growth, and the marriage market became a place where “capitalists with money” and “fallen nobles with nothing to offer but their bloodlines” made deals.

Thus, the value of the “fallen Variessa royal bloodline” naturally rose.

‘The last remaining descendant of the royal family, isn’t that the best bloodline to trade for? It’s no wonder a capitalist officer and a duke are fighting over her.’

Judging from the extravagant conditions, it was clear that they were betting on the monarchy’s potential revival.

The count had no intention of missing out on either prize.

And Cynthia, the foolish girl who would even die if Carlos told her to, was perfect.

Moreover, like the royal family who had been deified and revered for ages, Cynthia too possessed a unique and otherworldly appearance.

“But this is a sham marriage, isn’t it?”

At Cynthia’s question, the Count rummaged through his coat pocket.

“If no one finds out, it becomes the truth.”

He then handed Cynthia a red diamond necklace. At first glance, it resembled Cynthia’s eyes.

“This belonged to my wife. It’s a royal heirloom. With this, no one will doubt you.”

It was a valuable item, but he’d be getting it back soon enough, so it didn’t matter.

“All you have to do is keep your mouth shut. If this gets exposed, you’re the one who dies.”

‘Not that you’ll live long enough for that if I kill you.’

Hiding his true thoughts, the Count raised the corners of his lips into a smirk.

Cynthia’s lips twitched upward faintly as she held onto the necklace.

‘I’m betting my life that this is a rom-com filled with healing, laughter, and warmth.’

Cynthia had no idea she was actually in a dark novel notorious for its “double suicide ending.”

It was not a healing story, but a fatally toxic one.