I found myself reincarnated into a miserable fantasy novel, a world devoid of dreams or hope.
In the frail body of a child fated not to live past twenty.
Kidnapped by the story’s worst villains, I was raised as a dark sorcerer.
“Witch Prejeta. Atone with your life.”
In the end, I met death at the hands of the protagonist.
…Only to regress to the past?
Thanks to my return as a grand sorcerer, I’ve already dodged my death sentence…
Cough, cough!
Though I still occasionally cough up blood and collapse during recovery, people around me have started to get the wrong idea.
“Ina, if you can survive this, you can do anything.”
—My father, who sees only me.
“Hmph, since you’re so weak, I’ll protect you.”
—My brother, who’s actually weaker than me but insists on acting like my guardian.
“To save you, I’d even destroy the temple.”
—Hey! Weren’t you a sacred knight chosen by God…?
The protagonist, having completely forgotten his original purpose, is now out here beating up the temple.
This is bad.
Everyone thinks I have a terminal illness.
