1 “All of this… is for saving my little brother.”
I took a deep breath, pressing my trembling arm with my other hand. Despite the wide-open windows, the hall was drenched in the lingering heat of late summer.
The dazzling chandelier overhead and nobles dressed in vibrant garments like candy wrappers sparkled beneath its light.
Amidst the sound of instruments and the laughter of the guests, a voice suddenly called out to me.
“Rosalyn.”
A familiar voice—one I had grown used to over many years.
The laughter and murmurs faded in an instant, and all eyes turned toward the source of the voice.
There he stood—a man of devilish beauty, bearing a name that inspired fear.
Crown Prince Damian Freyr Lairas.
His jet-black hair, like raven wings, was slicked lightly back, and his striking violet eyes, shadowed by thick lashes, were fixed directly on me.
He lifted the corner of his crimson lips in a soft smile and extended his hand toward me.
When I placed my hand in his, our fingers intertwined so gently, as if they belonged together.
At first glance, it might’ve seemed like a perfect moment between a harmonious couple. But…
“Ah…”
I endured the quiet pain that spread through my fingers, raising my head to see him smiling at me in delight.
As his hand moved to encircle my waist, the orchestra began to play.
Amidst the clamor that returned to the hall—as if time, once frozen, had begun to tick again—I whispered to myself:
“This man… will kill my brother in the future.”
And today, I married him to stop that from happening.
Could I say I’ve returned to life?
As I fell down the stairs, I suddenly realized I was inside a novel.
When my gaze, which had been fixed on the floor, flicked upward toward the ceiling, memories of my life flashed before my eyes—just as they say it happens.
I heard the sound of my body crashing against the floor, but the mental shock was so overwhelming that I felt no pain.
It was as if my soul had left my body and drifted somewhere else, for the scene before me was not my home.
A towering glass building reflected the image of a woman with black hair…
Distant screams echoed faintly, and strange sensations—ones that weren’t part of my memories—rushed in.
A small rectangular device, known as a smartphone, emitted a bright light and displayed dark text:
I Became a Saintess in a Broken World
In that world, I was obsessed with a novel.
A novel that ended in tragedy—the orphaned heroine, who became a saintess, won the war against the monsters only to be stabbed in the back at the very end by the Crown Prince who framed her for treason.
Despite its bleak ending, the scene where the heroine and the hero held hands while saving the world moved me so deeply I cried until my eyes swelled.
But the problem was…
Now, I was the older sister of the male lead.
And I had already married the very Crown Prince who would become their killer.
Midway through the novel, after Theo’s death brought about the fall of our household, my character faded into obscurity.
“Is this even real…?”
Until now, I had lived a life of luxury.
As the only daughter of a grand ducal family, I had everything I could ever want.
I had a good relationship with my younger brother, and I was on friendly terms with the original heroine, Estelle.
Our family had been the primary sponsor of the orphanage where Estelle lived.
With her striking silver hair and gentle golden eyes, Estelle shared her food with her younger siblings despite her own hunger, and listened attentively to anyone who spoke. Even quarreling children calmed in her presence.
Thanks to that, when I volunteered at the orphanage, I naturally grew close to her. Estelle never showed any sense of inferiority, nor was she servile.
She stood tall and smiled—like a lily blooming in the fields.
“She was special.”
Even my father refused to allow Estelle to be adopted by our uncle. At first, our uncle felt uneasy, but upon meeting her, he nodded in approval.
“Now I understand. Because she was the heroine.”
With that realization, I collapsed—overwhelmed by shock.
When I came to, I was staring at a familiar ceiling.
I was in my room, lying in bed. My body still ached.
“Fortunately, the carpet cushioned the fall. There’s no major damage.”
Turning toward the voice, I locked eyes with the doctor. He placed his monocle into his coat pocket.
“Still, it’s best if you remain resting for today.”
As he reminded me of his instructions, another voice chimed in.
“Thank goodness! Did you see how you rolled down the stairs? I was seriously shocked!”
Theo—the protagonist of the novel—smiled as he ran to my bedside. I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely happy I was unharmed or just joking around.
“Ahem.”
The doctor cleared his throat. Theo ignored him and continued speaking.
“How do you fall like that? The carpet twisted like a snake! Even a circus troupe couldn’t reenact that!”
Though I appeared fine, was that really something to say to someone who had just taken a tumble? Normally, I’d snap at him, but I didn’t have the strength.
Perhaps he was simply surprised and trying to lighten the mood. Instead of replying, I asked about Estelle.
“…Estelle. Where is she?”
“In the drawing room.”
“Why?”
“She was shocked too. She wanted to stay with you, but we thought it best to calm her down first.”
Relief and guilt mingled within me.
If Estelle had seen me like this, I wouldn’t have been able to greet her properly.
So, I avoided Theo’s gaze and gestured with my hand.
“Alright. My head hurts, so get out. Just call for a maid.”
“What? Your head?”
His voice was tinged with sarcasm, but I detected a thread of worry.
I shook my head and ducked under the covers.
The scent of dust grew stronger.
Theo grumbled a little as he left the room.
Once the door closed, I let out a deep breath.
“Hah…”
Could I brush this off as just a strange dream? The memories were far too vivid.
Estelle… is she really the saintess?
“In the original novel, the saintess had powers of healing, purifying tainted lands, and banishing monsters. But I never heard of Estelle healing anyone.”
I sat up quietly, trying to organize my thoughts, but having just regained consciousness, my mind was still hazy.
“I’m not the Crown Prince’s wife yet—just his fiancée. So… when does Estelle become the saintess?”
Lying in the soft bed, the pain slowly subsided. I tried to recall the plot.
Currently, the continent was divided into four empires—north, south, east, and west. At the center lay the “Land of Death.”
It was once the capital of the great Magic Empire, still filled with undiscovered treasures and relics.
Truly a golden land, surrounded by towering, jagged mountains that formed a natural fortress.
Its presence hindered trade and communication between the empires. All four nations constantly drained their resources fighting off the monsters.
Eradicating the beasts was impossible. Despite repeated alliances formed by the empires to launch attacks, no one ever returned.
The monsters came like endless swarms of ants.
In such a setting, if the Land of Death were to be purified…
Who wouldn’t covet it?
“That’s why Estelle’s very existence was coveted by all empires.”
The reason Theo and Estelle were killed in the original novel boiled down to one thing: treason.
Even if they never intended to betray, the presence of a powerful duke and a saintess was a threat to the current imperial regime.
In truth, after the wars ended, Crown Prince Damian went to the Land of Death and told the dying Theo and Estelle:
Thinking back, Damian was likely the one who purified it.
But was it necessary to kill them?
Wouldn’t it have been better to strengthen ties by embracing their family?
“Damian.”
Damian Freyr Lairas. The Crown Prince.
My fiancé.
His raven-black hair, eyes of unreadable violet—
Whether personally or politically, I had no reason to marry him.
There were no deep connections between us. The marriage was merely to solidify alliances, as our ducal house already supported the Emperor.
Yet, Damian proposed to me.
He wasn’t the type to overlook the dangers of concentrated power.
“Honestly, I don’t think he cares about me at all.”
Every time we met, he would smile without asking anything, which only made me tense. I could never read what he was thinking, and the tension just kept building.
People from the imperial palace always observed us. I couldn’t remain silent or hide anything.
Every meeting, he was always accompanied by two or more attendants.
In that oppressive atmosphere, I’d hold my teacup tightly, talking about topics I thought would amuse him.
But I could never mention Theo or Estelle.
Every time I did, his displeasure became subtly apparent.
When I returned home, I’d remember nothing of the conversation. Only the shape of the teacup remained imprinted on my palm.
“If that’s the case, I always wondered why he chose me.”
But now… After knowing Damian killed Theo and Estelle, I must ask—why?
Was his goal to monitor our family?
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