There’s a saying that goes, ‘when a person dies, the last rofan they read will come and meet them.’*
I was under the impression that, if you think, ‘This character is seriously pathetic! If it were me…’ while reading a novel, and happen to be hit by truck-kun, that you’ll end up possessing said character.
But I lived in a conflict zone, and after being bombed by a fighter jet, I opened my eyes and found myself in the body of a maid named ‘Cynthia’ from Count Queensguard’s household.
Cynthia had worked here from a young age, and had a seriously tragic life.
By this point, she should have turned to the dark-side, but Cynthia had a heart of gold.
“Just like me, too nice for her own good…”
Sulking, I rested my cheek against my hand. I don’t even know what novel this is, and here I am cast in such a depressing role.
The only reason I knew this place was a novel was because it felt vaguely similar to something I had briefly read.
My go-to genres were rom-coms, ‘I can fix him,’ or hurt/comfort. Mostly broken male leads and sunny female leads who come together and ‘heal each other.’
So, this had to be one of those.
“Phew, thankfully I don’t touch that dark and angsty stuff.”
I was in my room, letting out a sigh of relief, when a seasoned maid flung the door open.
“Hey, you Esat mutt.”
The Count’s servants called me an ‘Esat mutt.’
Esatains were an oppressed minority with a dwindling population, their distinguishing trait was their white hair, so everyone assumed I was of mixed Esat heritage.
“I’m not a mutt, it’s a genetic mutation.”
I offered a gentle correction.
My snow-white hair, pale skin, and light red eyes were due to ‘albinism,’ after all.
At my innocent reply, her eyebrow twitched, and she barked more harshly.
“Doesn’t matter, you’re still a cursed white rat! Young Master Carlos is looking for you, so hurry up and move it.”
“Yep.”
Annoying superiors exist everywhere, regardless of genre.
I got up from my seat and headed straight to Carlos’s room.
* * *
Carlos Queensguard.
The family’s eldest son and heir to the Count’s house.
A handsome man with ash-toned golden hair and bluish-gray eyes, he lived a life of debauchery.
He was definitely not the male lead.
“Cynthia, it’s time to repay your debt. You promised your life to me.”
Exploiting Cynthia’s weaknesses for his gain, he wasn’t even a redemption-type bastard, just a plain bastard.
According to the remaining memories in Cynthia’s mind, she had accidentally committed murder at seventeen.
There was a drunken gambler who called himself Cynthia’s father, who exploited her constantly. He would occasionally beat her, and while resisting one day, Cynthia pushed him, causing him to hit his head and crossing the River Styx.
Carlos happened to find out about the murder and covered it up. And Cynthia, moved by this, not only offered her life up to him, but also gave him her heart.
A more vicious exploitative relationship was born.
“How long do I have to repay this never-ending debt…”
I muttered in frustration.
For the record, debts of love and weakness are not considered repaid until death.
Either the death of the debtor or creditor.
“This is the last time, Cynthia.”
With a tone no different from her abusive father, this debt collector of love continued.
“Our family just received two marriage proposals.”
“Are they perhaps for Lady Helene and the Young Master?”
I didn’t mention Edford, the second son.
He hadn’t inherited the Count’s good looks, nor was he competent in any way, so he was in no position to receive marriage proposals.
“No. They were both sent from men. As our family only has one daughter, we would typically have to pick one of them…”
He lightly took my fingers and smiled.
“But both offers come with incredible terms. We’re the last remaining royal bloodline, after all.”
The late Countess had been a princess of the fallen Bariesa Royal Family, which had collapsed more than twenty years ago.
There was a revolution that wiped out all royalty, but she had eloped with the Count beforehand, leaving behind children of royal descent.
Carlos laid it out:
“You’ll become a daughter of Count Queensguard and marry the other.”
Forcing her to marry another man. How could he say that to a woman who had loved and devoted herself to him?
“Is he handsome? I’d like to see his face.”
If he’s handsome, he’s probably the male lead.
Having spent my entire live devouring rofan novels, my initial guess was that the male lead would be ‘The Grand Duke of the North’ but that was wrong (The Grand Duke of the North was 95 years old). Still, the story resembled one I had briefly read titled ‘I Was a Scam Bride but Became the Real One.’
The male lead finds out that the female lead he was marrying was an imposter, but pretends not to know, worried she’d run away if she knew he had found her out. It was a cute and sweet rom-com.
Carlos frowned as he observed me lost in thought.
“You’ve been acting strange lately. Anyway, once we claim his fortune, we’ll be together forever. You just need to endure a little longer.”
Do I, really?
“Ooh, of course!”
I responded with a perfunctory affirmation.
I had to find the male lead to get the story moving, I had no choice but to take the risk.
Not that I actually had a choice to begin with.
After hearing such a grand offer, refusing it meant death, so I had to figure it out to survive.
More than anything, I had unusually good luck.
Even though I met a tragic end in my past life, starting again inside a story that would eventually lead to happiness—wasn’t that luck itself?
I decided to trust my luck.
Even if it wasn’t the kind suited for gambling or the lottery.
* * *
The mastermind behind this ‘bloodline-scam marriage’ was Carlos’ father, Count Queensguard.
He said to Cynthia, standing before him:
“This is a golden opportunity to rise in status and enjoy a life of wealth.”
We were in a remote area far from the capital.
The Count Queensguard’s children had never debuted in high society and kept their identities hidden for their own safety. So, all that was needed was to silence the servants who worked with them.
Scanning Cynthia’s rare appearance up and down before speaking.
“If anyone gets suspicious, I’ll handle it. Just say you lost your memory in an accident when you were a child.”
“I really did lose my childhood memories, though?”
It was three months post-transmigration. I only had fragments of the original body’s memories that had remained, so I didn’t know everything.
The Count, with a weary look, changed the subject.
“The man you’re marrying is a war hero of the Republic and holds a tremendous amount of assets. He’s also considered a top-tier groom.”
To this, Cynthia asked:
“Why are you sending me to this ideal groom instead of Lady Helene?”
Helene was his biological daughter and Carlos’s sister.
It was a sharp question, but in his mind, Cynthia had never been a clever girl.
“Helene is going to marry a Duke.”
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t be able to take in the refined etiquette expected of a Ducal House. It’s not something you can gain with a few days of training.”
He didn’t bother mentioning the vicious rumors about Brigadier General Vicente being a brutal, insane butcher.
‘No matter how rich he is, there’s no way I’d send my daughter to a demon like that. His background is appalling too.’
Even so, he couldn’t reject a proposal from that devil.
Following the war was a boon in development due to an industrial revolution, and the marriage market was in full swing, with deals made between ‘wealthy capitalists’ and ‘fallen nobles who only had their bloodlines.’
Thus, the disgraced ‘Bariesa royal bloodline’ naturally gained value.
‘The last surviving royal descendant, it’s practically a top-tier product for the bloodline market. Enough to drive both capitalist officers and Ducal houses into a frenzy.’
The exorbitant conditions they offered proved it. Clearly, they were investing with hopes that monarchy might be restored.
The Count couldn’t afford to lose both golden opportunities.
That’s why Cynthia, foolish enough to even play dead on Carlos’ say-so, was perfect.
Moreover, just like the royals who had been deified and treated as treasures, Cynthia also had that external uniqueness.
“But this is a scam marriage, right?”
At Cynthia’s question, the Count rummaged through his coat pocket.
“As long as it’s not exposed, it becomes the truth.”
He then handed Cynthia a red diamond necklace. The color resembled her eye color.
“It belonged to my wife. A royal heirloom. With this, no one will question it.”
It was an important item, but he’d get it back soon anyway, so it didn’t matter.
“You just have to watch your mouth. If you’re found out, you will be the one who dies.”
‘Granted, you’ll die by my hands long before that.’
The Count curled his lips into a smile, concealing his true thoughts.
Cynthia’s lips also curved slightly as she held the necklace.
‘I bet on my life that this is a rom-com full of healing, emotion, and laughter.’
Little did Cynthia know, that she had just landed herself in angst-filled novel infamous for its ‘double suicide ending.’
This was not a healing story, but a lethally hazardous one.
Translation Notes:
*There’s a saying that goes, ‘when a person dies, the last rofan (romantic-fantasy) they read will come and meet them.’
– the author stated that this line is a parody of a line from episode 11 of the webtoon 은동스+옹동스 (Eundongs + Ongdongs), by 스노우캣 (Snowcat).
– the original line is: “사람이 죽으면 먼저 가있던 반려동물이 마중 나온다는 얘기가 있다”
– “There’s a saying that goes, when a person dies the pet that went ahead of them will come and meet them.”
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