Chapter 2
“Eeeek!”
Elschnein backed away, her mouth agape, clutching both cheeks in horror.
She looked exactly like Munch’s The Scream from that one art appreciation class she’d taken in her past life.
Before her lay Arwen, eyes closed, unconscious.
Oh my God. What is this? Did I get the date wrong?
She looked at the calendar again. And again. And again. But no—exactly one year had passed since the day she had taken Arwen to the cliff.
“The deadline has come…”
She dropped the calendar from her trembling hands and tore at her hair.
“It’s over. It’s all over!”
One year after the original story begins, the demonic forces start their full-scale activities.
That’s why she’d desperately hoped Arwen would wake up before the year was over, even if just a little late.
But that deadline had just expired.
“Nooo…”
By now, Arwen should have been by Killian’s side, helping him recover from his madness after her own death—keeping him from falling further.
Just like most stories where the heroine dies and the hero goes insane, this novel she was transmigrated into followed that cliché to the letter.
Killian, convinced the resurrected Arwen was not real, believes her to be a spy sent by the demons. But in the end, love triumphs over all, and he thwarts the Demon God’s plot to destroy both the human world and the heavens.
But what happens if Arwen is missing from that story?
‘Killian will fall to demonic corruption and become the vessel of the Demon God…’
Killian dies.
And the world ends.
Everything Elschnein had worked on for 20 years would be ruined.
“What do I do? What can I do?”
She curled up in the corner of the cabin, yanking at her blue hair, agonizing for days on end.
She pulled so much that the floor shimmered with strands of blue, and she grew so weak from not eating that she could barely stand.
Then—Elschnein clenched her fist and stood up.
She had finally made a decision.
“I’ll have to play Arwen’s role for now.”
According to the calendar, Killian would soon be in danger.
She had to put out the immediate fire first.
‘And if I follow the original storyline… I’ll be able to get it.’
The Flower of Life.
She didn’t know why Arwen hadn’t awakened, but that flower could definitely bring her back. Elschnein clenched her jaw.
Her goal became twofold:
First, temporarily take Arwen’s role and keep Killian from being consumed by demonic energy.
Second, bring Arwen back to life in the meantime so Killian’s love story can continue.
‘I can do this. I have to.’
With a firm resolve in her eyes, she looked out the window.
The morning sun shone brightly, as if blessing her decision.
‘And first… the thing I need to do is…’
Entrust Arwen to that place—
—and summon Killian to her.
* * *
Hoo, haa. Hoo, haa.
Elschnein breathed deeply. Before her flowed a quiet stream from the valley.
She had overexerted herself rushing to entrust Arwen and was exhausted.
‘Fatigue aside, considering the state of my body, this shouldn’t take long.’
At least not until she used up all her power as a spirit.
Wiping sweat from her brow, she slowly extended her hand and began summoning water.
The water materialized mid-air and splashed into the stream below.
‘Killian hasn’t formally broken our contract yet… But since he can’t use my power now, I’ll have to rely on my own strength.’
Elschnein was a water spirit.
As a spirit, she was part of nature and could manipulate elements even without a contractor—but only within limits.
She could only use as much power as her vessel could contain. If she overdid it, she could vanish entirely.
That’s why spirits usually avoided tapping into the power stored in their vessels.
‘Elschnein, never use your own power again. We’ve formed a contract, remember?’
Killian had said that, pinky-promise and all, when he was a child.
But Elschnein had already broken that promise three times.
First—when she kidnapped Arwen.
Second—when she brought Arwen back to life.
And now—for the third time.
She had used nearly all her power to revive Arwen, and now only a sliver remained.
Using her own power now was incredibly risky.
‘But this is the best way.’
She could have traveled directly to where Killian was in the capital, but that didn’t fit the plan.
She needed to be discovered by Killian by “accident”—pure coincidence.
Like, say, triggering the divine spell Killian had cast on her when they were younger.
To activate that spell…
“Ugh…”
Splaash—The more water she summoned, the hazier her consciousness became.
‘Now’s the time.’
Just before her last ounce of power vanished, she cut off the summoning and closed her eyes.
‘The divine spell only activates if I lose consciousness…’
Killian’s spell was meant to activate only when Elschnein’s life was in grave danger.
And finally—her consciousness went black.
* * *
“Gasp!”
Elschnein inhaled sharply and opened her eyes.
‘Did… the divine spell activate?’
She scanned her surroundings.
A vast, ornate circular hall. She stood alone at its center. An unfamiliar place.
She looked down at her body—it was translucent. She had been summoned in spirit form to Killian’s side.
But…
‘Where is Killian?’
She looked around, but saw no one.
At the end of the hall stood an enormous door, intricately engraved and slightly ajar. From within, voices echoed.
She cautiously approached.
‘Is this the Kingdom of Dyren…?’
According to the story, Killian should currently be in Dyren—not the Holy Empire—tracking a demon disguised as a human within the royal palace.
‘Yeah, this must be Dyren.’
Tapestries bearing the kingdom’s crest and portraits of former kings lined the walls.
The floor was soaked in blood—like a massacre had just taken place.
Nervously, she swallowed hard and peeked through the open door.
‘A throne…?’
She first saw a large throne atop a wide circular staircase.
At its peak sat a man—but a fallen flag obscured his face.
“P-please! Spare me! I’ll give you anything! If you want the throne, I’ll give it to you!”
A terrified middle-aged man pleaded loudly, making Elschnein flinch.
The man—clearly Dyren’s king—knelt in a red cape, shaking like a leaf.
Elschnein slipped inside and hid near the fallen flagpole to assess the situation.
“The throne? I don’t need that trash.”
A voice—strangely familiar, yet cold.
Elschnein’s eyes widened.
She peeked out from behind the flag.
Atop the throne sat a man as if painted into existence.
He wore the white armor of the Holy Empire’s paladins, giving him a sacred aura.
But his blood-red eyes, raven-black hair, and the murderous energy around him made him look like a Demon King.
‘Killian…’
Elschnein shrank back.
Darkened by Arwen’s death, Killian now exuded a far more dangerous presence than even the novel described.
“I already told you what I want—the demon wearing the Dyren King’s skin.”
“Hiiik…”
“I didn’t report to His Holiness right away so I could let you handle this. You were supposed to bring me results.”
“I-It’s just… he vanished! Maybe he’s really gone—”
Whip! CLANG!
“Gone?”
“Ugh!”
In an instant, a sword flew and embedded itself before the pleading man—blood dried on the hilt, like a cursed blade thirsting for more.
Killian calmly inspected his fingernails as he looked down on the man.
His face was serene—hard to believe he’d just hurled a sword in rage.
“It’s over. You’re done.”
“Aaaaargh!”
The demon disguised as the king let out a horrible scream, and Elschnein flinched.
She’d seen many gruesome things as his companion, but her body still reacted.
‘The moment when Killian, corrupted, kills the demon he once kept alive to find Arwen…’
This was it.
‘A man who saved the world, but couldn’t trust it. Who used demons to find his lost love.’
She regretted not arriving sooner. Maybe she could have stopped him from being hurt.
As that thought crossed her mind—
“…Who’s there? A rat sneaking around?”
Startled, she tensed.
Killian began walking toward her, sword at his side.
Tap. Tap. The sound of boots grew louder.
She clenched her fists tightly. Facing her old friend again after so long was terrifying.
‘Killian must hate me.’
She had taken away the chance to revive Arwen and gone into hiding.
She was a traitor.
‘I already made up my mind.’
Killian finally stood before her.
Just a flag stood between them. A mere three steps apart.
Slowly, a thin hand reached through and pulled the flag aside.
“Who are—”
As the cloth lifted in a smooth arc, Killian’s face emerged.
“El… schnain?”
The man who moments ago slaughtered a demon now looked dazed.
As if she would vanish, he urgently grabbed her wrist.
“…!”
Elschnein blinked at her old friend after eight years. A memory flashed in her mind.
The moment Killian had cast his divine spell on her.
‘Elschnein. If something happens when we’re apart, this spell will activate. You’ll appear in spirit form, which might be confusing. Just remember this—’
The boy in her memory smiled, setting aside a thick book.
‘Just tell me one thing—’
A young voice overlapped with his low whisper now.
“Where are you?”
‘Just tell me where you are.’
His red eyes were clouded with pain.
His voice now growled.
“After eight years… you show up like this? Elschnein. Where are you dying?”
His eyes burned with fury. Though he’d braced himself for years, seeing her face filled with hatred hurt more than he’d imagined.
Elschnein opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. His face slowly contorted in pain.
Eyebrows arched. Lips pressed tight.
“Tell me now!”
He shouted fiercely, but his trembling red eyes betrayed him. She didn’t see—she had already averted her gaze.
He desperately scanned her body, searching for signs of injury.
Then, with a threatening whisper—
“If you die, this continent is finished. Is that what you want?”
His words snapped her out of her daze. What am I doing? I knew this would happen.
She finally forced her trembling lips open.
“In the forest of Vester, I’m—”
Before she could finish, her spirit was yanked away.
As her consciousness faded, his sharp voice pierced through—
“Don’t die until I get there. No matter what.”
‘No matter where you are, I’ll find you.’
