Episode 1
I Swear, I Didn’t Ask for This Plot Twist
“Urgh…”
Coughing up blood, Castian struggled to rise.
Clutching his chest in agony, his expression contorted in pain before he collapsed to the floor — dead.
The death of Castian, once hailed as the strongest on the continent.
His loyal knights were present in the council hall, yet they were powerless before the cursed magic unleashed by the dark mage, Gauron. In the chaos between the fallen Castian and the retreating Gauron, another slipped through unnoticed — the necromancer Lydia, a fellow dark mage in the expedition, who had begun chanting a sinister incantation.
“…What?”
The male lead… died?
I blinked twice and reread the final passage.
No way.
You’ve got to be kidding me. The male lead… is dead!?
But the real kicker came right after.
“Huh?!”
> [Due to personal circumstances, The Saintess and the Dark Villain will be discontinued. There will be no future updates. Thank you for reading.]
I had turned off the lights and was just about to fall asleep after reading the long-awaited new chapter when I jolted upright.
Four years of reading romance-fantasy novels — and sure, I’d been blindsided by countless plot twists — but this? This was the dirtiest curveball of them all.
The author killed the male lead and ghosted the series?
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Fuming, I stormed into the comment section. It was a warzone, with betrayed readers losing their minds.
I, too, left a passionate protest beginning with “Dear Author…” and ending with “Are you even watching this trainwreck?!” But even that didn’t ease my rage.
Why had I read this pseudo-adventure novel disguised as a romance if there wasn’t even a hint of actual romance?
Castian was struggling to prevent the Demon King’s arrival and save the world — he was endearing and tragic! And you just… killed him?
And now you’re telling us… the story is canceled? Canceled?!
I cursed the unknown author’s name, kicked at the air three times in frustration, and finally fell asleep. But then…
“Lord Castian!!”
Wait… what?
“You fiend! What have you done to Lord Castian?!”
Was that… a sword?
The gleaming blade in front of me looked exactly like the kind you’d find in a fantasy romance novel.
Was I dreaming?
I poked the sword with my finger — ouch. That hurt.
Too real to be a dream. And… wait… was that blood?
“Blood!”
“Speak, necromancer! What did you do?!”
“N-No, really, I’m bleeding—”
“Silence! Answer truthfully! What did you do to Lord Castian?!”
It clearly wasn’t the right time to argue about whether I was hallucinating or not.
The red-haired knight glaring at me with blazing fury had me scanning my surroundings in a panic… until my eyes landed on a body engulfed in purple smoke.
No way.
This had to be a dream. Please, let this be a dream.
“You cursed necromancer! I’ll kill you!”
With fire to match his hair, the knight swung his sword at my head.
I rolled away on instinct — pure survival reflex — and somehow ended up next to the smoke-shrouded figure on the floor.
Blood at the lips. Eyes shut. Skin pale and cold.
If my gut was right, then this beautiful corpse had to be—
Castian Dale Bernstein.
His brows twitched. Then, slowly, his eyes fluttered open.
Those deep, ocean-blue eyes wavered momentarily before locking into focus.
Silver-blue hair cascaded over his forehead. His face was sharp yet elegant — too handsome to feel real.
Was it because he was the male lead?
Castian sat up, pressing a hand to his forehead as if in pain, then quickly grabbed at his chest.
“I… I definitely died…”
Right. You did die.
In the novel where some reckless author killed the male lead and then peaced out of existence.
The author dodged every cliché in the book — and yet here I was, smacked straight into one.
A reincarnation cliché, no less.
Fine. I could live with having transmigrated. But why did it have to be this novel, at this moment?
Everyone kept calling me a necromancer — which meant I was now one of the dark mages who’d helped kill the male lead.
Seriously? Of all characters, her?!
I didn’t kill him! I wouldn’t!
Even when the fandom dragged Castian for being cold, I defended him with blood, sweat, and tweets!
If anything, I should’ve reincarnated before his death — you know, twist the plot, save the male lead, spark some romantic tension.
That’s the classic transmigration formula, right?
Hey, dear author — making eye contact with the male lead shouldn’t mean getting stabbed by him!
“Was it you?”
The author didn’t answer, but Castian, freshly back from the dead, grabbed my collar and growled.
“What did you do to me?”
His ocean-blue eyes gleamed with deadly intent.
I was one blink away from being choked out… or murdered by sheer glare.
“L-Let go of me… ughk—”
“Answer me first, necromancer! Did you try to control me?!”
“If I was trying to control you, would you really be strangling me right now?!”
Even while being throttled, I made a very logical point.
Apparently, Castian agreed. He released me, albeit with a disgusted expression, and I crumpled to the floor, gasping and coughing.
“Cough… cough! Ack—!”
My head pounded — not just from the lack of oxygen but from a flood of foreign memories and information.
It was her spell.
The one the original necromancer Lydia had used — the one not even written in the novel.
I now remembered it.
“Answer my call.”
I now knew what she — no, I — had done.
As the pain ebbed and I lifted my head, I was met with a row of furious stares. Castian and his knights looked ready to kill.
Their intent was no joke.
“We should execute her immediately!”
The red-haired knight who’d been calling for my death from the start looked ready to swing his sword again — even though I was the one who’d brought the male lead back.
If only I were a saintess. Maybe then things would’ve turned out differently.
But no — I was a necromancer. A practitioner of the most taboo form of dark magic. The public enemy of this era.
I mean seriously — raising the dead? Even ancestors would rise in anger.
This world has no divine punishment?
To someone from Korea, this was blasphemy at another level!
But I didn’t have time to vent.
I’d barely reincarnated, just met my favorite character in the flesh… and now the sword he was holding was pointed right at my neck.
Oh, come on.
Life… seriously.
But wait. Based on the knowledge that had just entered my brain, the dead obey the necromancer’s command, right?
Then why wasn’t he obeying me?
“Explain. What exactly did you do to me?”
“Well… um…”
If I said “I don’t know,” I’d probably get punched until I figured it out.
The novel version of Castian was aloof, yes — but never abusive.
Still, maybe dying and coming back messed with his personality.
His glare was fully unhinged.
I wracked my brain for a plausible explanation and finally came up with one.
“Your body died, but your soul didn’t. I think I summoned you before your soul had time to move on.”
Wow. That actually sounded smart.
There are two main branches of necromancy:
If the target is dead, it’s necromancy. If they’re still alive, it’s soul summoning.
Either way, it begins by calling the spirit.
If the dead answer, they return in a corpse-like form and serve the necromancer faithfully.
Clearly, that wasn’t Castian. The look in his eyes screamed not loyal.
Which meant…
“So… you’re saying my body is dead, but my soul is still inside it?”
“Exactly!”
To be specific, this wasn’t necromancy — it was soul summoning. I had summoned his soul back into his own body.
One thing was clear — my magic had forcibly tethered Castian’s soul to the world of the living.
He didn’t need all the details. From his expression, he was starting to understand his situation.
Those blue eyes of his flickered.
He’d lived his whole life as the male lead — surely he never imagined he’d die like this.
Even now, there was something tragically beautiful about him.
His wandering gaze returned to me, and he asked in a quiet voice:
“So… am I dead, or am I alive?”
“…Well…”
I swallowed my honest answer — “How would I know?” — and just blinked at him.
You think I know whether you’re dead or alive?
Even the author who offed you and ran didn’t see this coming!
But here’s the thing:
I swear, I never asked for this plot twist.
