There are people in this world who fervently desire to become deeply and inextricably entangled with a death row inmate, one who was accused of committing a horrific murder.
Like this, for example.
“What did you just say?”
“Please sign here.”
“…Before that?”
“I asked you to marry me.”
An overwhelmingly dank visitor’s room in an underground prison. That’s where I just proposed to a murderer. And now I was in the middle of getting his buy-in.
“So… you’re saying that if I marry you, you’ll prove my innocence.”
“Yes, yes, that’s right. All the client… I mean, Your Grace, needs to do is sign this contract.”
“……”
An even more suspicious gaze turned toward me. I had no choice but to plaster on my most professional smile and look at the man before me. He was absolutely flawless, with a strong jawline, a straight nose, and well-shaped lips. He was none other than Grand Duke Benedict Richard, the villain from the novel I read not long ago.
“I’m one hundred percent sure! I’ll get you acquitted, Your Grace.”
“These terms state half of my assets.”
“Of course, it’s that easy? Just put your trust in me.”
Then, with eyes full of trust and promise, I looked at him. As if captivated by my gaze, he reached out toward the contract. My eyes followed the man’s fingers like a hungry hyena, glinting with anticipation of his signature. Just then, the man’s shoulder flinched, and he suddenly looked up sharply.
“Wait.”
“Wh-what’s wrong?”
I was so flustered that I was starting to get worried. The man had a strangely determined look in his eyes.
“Let’s revise the contract terms a bit.”
Hearing that, the smile unconsciously dropped from my face. Reducing my contingency fee was absolutely out of the question. I responded firmly.
“Ah. I’m sorry, but adjusting the contingency fee is not on the table…”
“There will be no personal feelings of any kind between us.”
“Pardon…?”
What an absurd thing to say.
“Especially love, that’s absolutely out of the question.”
“Yeah, uh-huh… right, whatever you say.”
It was a ridiculous condition, but I nodded in agreement. Finalizing the contract was my top priority.
So, to explain what exactly led to a contract being formed in such a bleak prison, which included such out of place words like marriage and love, we need to rewind a few days.
* * *
“Kinda vanilla for hell.”
That was my first thought after suddenly opening my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. I made sense, after all, I was definitely dead.
The cause of death: a car crash with a dump truck. As I laid in excruciating pain, I thought about Article 3, Clause 2, Subsection 2 of the Act on Special Cases Concerning the Settlement of Traffic Accidents, crossing the centerline. One of the 12 major offenses, so the criminal settlement would be absolutely enormous. Right around then—
“You see, should’ve picked the right side, Lawyer-Lady.”
Hearing the truck driver say that as he approached me, I realized this wasn’t an accident– but murder.
That’s right. I was one of those money-hungry lawyer types. To me, what mattered most wasn’t justice or truth, but the contingency fee my client paid. That’s how I made the big bucks defending scumbags. After all, I was a fairly capable lawyer.
This time, I had represented one side of a gang turf war and won, but I guess the other side held a grudge. Still, I never thought they’d run me over with a literal truck.
“It’s the perfect weather for going to hell.”
Those were the last words I heard before I died. At least that was something I agreed on. Looking back on my life, hell was a much better fit than heaven. Not that I enjoyed defending those douchebags, but it is what it is. In the end, money was just money, no matter whose pockets it came from.
I glanced around the unfamiliar space.
“I suppose this isn’t so bad.”
Considering all the POSes I’d gotten off in my past life, I’d been fully prepared for eternal hellfire. The room was a bit filthy and moldy in places, but the temperature and humidity wasn’t too bad.
“What’s this? Still lying down, you lazy brat!”
Just then, a loud voice rang out from across the room.
Alas, it must be time for hell’s warden to make an entrance. With such scolding, I guess I’d landed in sloth’s ring of hell.
‘But I don’t think I’ve lived particularly slothlike…’
Just as I began to question which ring of hell I had been assigned to, a clearly drunk middle-aged man grabbed my wrist and yanked me from the bed.
“Elena Christie! You lazy-ass b*tch, don’t you know how to get up and earn some money?”
Huh…? Ele… what?
I froze in place and blinked. It was a name I knew. What was about to begin would prove to be more shocking than hell itself.
* * *
After suddenly getting dragged off by that middle-aged man, I was put to work doing menial labor on a dilapidated farm. After frantically questioning those around me for information, I came to some conclusions.
‘I died after getting hit by that truck, and now I’ve transmigrated into a character in a novel.’
It was a RoFan about a commoner female lead and a Crown Prince male lead overcoming all kinds of adversity—including the Imperial family’s opposition and the schemes of the main villain, the male lead’s half-brother– to finally live out their love.
The side character I possessed, ‘Elena Christie,’ gets mentioned in a singular line, when the female lead Vivian recalls her childhood.
“In my village, the only person poorer than Elena Christie was Vivian.”
The only reason I was able to grasp the situation so quickly was thanks to a client who had come to me a while ago claiming that their novel had been plagiarized. It didn’t seem like a profitable case at first, and after skimming through it, it didn’t seem like plagiarism either, so I turned them down. But now, everything around me was telling me that I was inside that client’s novel.
But how could I remember the name of an extra that only appears in one line when I only skimmed it?
Because I have photographic memory, I remember everything I see, as if taking a photo, never forgetting a single detail. That’s also how I managed to rake in the money as a lawyer in my previous life.
“Manual labor is so not my jam.”
I grumbled under my breath. While mentally organizing the situation, I busily pulled weeds on the farm, but Elena’s body seemed to be quite frail, as my whole body already ached. From mingling with folks, I had gathered the following information:
- I’m in a RoFan novel, in a place called the Aria Empire, and the events of the novel have already concluded.
- The female lead, Vivian, had a happy ending and married the male lead, becoming the Crown Princess.
- Elena’s father is a drunk, and her brother is a gambling addict.
- Now that Vivian has become the Crown Princess, Elena, i.e. me, had become the poorest person in the village.
Welp, this was hell after all. A hell far worse than one of hellfire or the ring for sloths.
This was… the hell of poverty.
“Elena, here. Three silver. Today’s wages.”
After working slumped over all day without reprieve, all I got was enough money for maybe two loaves of bread.
“After everything I did to escape that hell.”
I bit my lip hard. In my past life, my circumstances weren’t that different from Elena’s. The only difference was that it was my father who was a gambling addict, and my brother was the deadbeat alcoholic. Dreaming only of escape, I left home as soon as I reached adulthood and became a lawyer, cutting all ties with my family.
‘I can’t live like that again.’
As dusk fell, I roamed the streets and spent all the money I earned today buying newspapers. As a filthy-looking woman, looking in need of some bread far more than anything, I drew quite a few curious gazes as I bought something that couldn’t even fill my stomach.
‘No matter how many pennies you save, you still only have pennies.’
Under a dim oil lamp, I nodded while flipping through newspapers. There’s a limit to how much money a girl from the slums could earn through labor. Plus, I absolutely refuse to work myself to the bone just to feed some parasitic family.
So now, I was aiming for the mother lode.
How? Using the skill I’m best at, lawyering!
“Let’s see whose head has the biggest bounty on it.”
With a sharp gaze, I carefully scanned the arrests and trial news in the newspaper.
There’s a fact I learned from my time as a lawyer: Money doesn’t come from the innocent and wronged, it comes from rich villains. If they have power too, that’s even better.
And in this novel’s world, there’s only one man who fits that bill perfectly.
“Found him. My cash cow!”
I smirked as I finally found the article I wanted.
The next day.
I ran out of the house at dawn. That drunkard of a father probably thought I had gone to the farm again, but my destination was the Imperial Prison.
There, burly men with huge swords at their waists were loudly protesting.
“Stop the oppression of Grand Duke Richard by the Imperial Family and Court! Stop it now!”
“Free Grand Duke Richard! Free him!”
It just so happens that their goal aligned with mine. Getting Grand Duke Richard released. The man who would become my cash cow, and the main villain of this novel.
Benedict Richard.
The man who was known as the “Battlefield Butcher” for slaying enemies without mercy or tears, had become a real ‘murderer.’ After failing to accept that the female lead, whom he loved, married the male lead, he killed her father in a fit of rage and was now imprisoned. He was expected to be sentenced to death in the upcoming trial, for the heinous crime of killing the Crown Princess’ father.
Watching the protestors, I shook my head.
‘They’re practically begging for him to get the death penalty.’
The protestors were soldiers with fierce appearances, scarred bodies, and clad in all-black.
Likely former commanders of the Imperial Army who once fought under the villain, Grand Duke Richard. Yet here they were, protesting in front of the Imperial Prison, shouting at the top of their lungs.
It looked more like they were threatening the Imperial Family and Court.
The surrounding citizens and even reporters covering the protest looked terrified, probably worried the soldiers might turn violent.
But that made it easier to get close to the villain. I approached the protestors and threw myself into the arms of a man who looked like their leader.
Thud!
“Oh! Miss, are you alright?”
“Oh my, I’m sorry. I slipped.”
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
The man hurriedly helped steady me after I fell onto his body. Pretending to be flustered, I quickly scanned his belongings.
“I’m fine.”
When I looked up and smiled softly, the man’s face turned red.
Makes sense, when I checked myself in the mirror this morning, my face was fairly pretty. Pale skin, delicate features, and light blue eyes.
To further distract him, I purposefully flipped my hair. My shimmering golden locks fluttered in the wind, captivating his gaze.
“P-please be careful! Miss!”
With a wink as a response, I headed for the prison’s visitation room. The guard at the reception desk glanced down at me.
“Here for a visit?”
“Yes, I’d like to see Grand Duke Benedict Richard.”
“Got an ID badge?”
“Of course!”
Victor Genoa
I confidently held up the ID badge I had swiped from the man’s belt just a moment ago.
💟 Translator Notes 💟
“Article 3, Clause 2, Subsection 2 of the Act on Special Cases Concerning the Settlement of Traffic Accidents, crossing the centerline.” is a real legal clause in Korean traffic law referring to a serious violation involving crossing the centerline.
“One of the 12 major offenses” refers to 12 types of serious negligence in Korean law that usually result in criminal liability.
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