ILBTD02

Episode 2

I briefly met Castian’s gaze—only to quickly avert my eyes.

Now was not the time to engage in a staring contest with the male lead of this world, especially not when my own neck was under a very real and very sharp blade.

Dead or not, Castian was still the male protagonist of this world. Meanwhile, I was part of the necromancer faction that killed him. And currently, a dangerously hostile conversation was unfolding right in front of me.

“She’s one of them! We must kill her!”

“Sir Edan is right! Kill her at once!”

Honestly, if you’re going to talk behind someone’s back, at least do it behind their back. These knights were sorely lacking in manners.

They looked about ready to swing their swords any moment, so I hastily shouted,

“I’m not one of them! I swear!”

“Silence, necromancer! I saw you using your foul magic on Lord Castian with my own eyes!”

“I wasn’t doing anything bad! I was trying to help him! I couldn’t just let him die like that!”

I poured every ounce of sincerity I had into my voice, but no one seemed the least bit convinced.

Tears pricked at my eyes from the helplessness and frustration. I could only lower my head once again to avoid their piercing stares.

Because the truth was—I had no idea what this body’s original owner, Lydia the necromancer from the novel, had intended by summoning Castian’s soul.

The knowledge of magic had poured into my mind the moment I possessed her, but her memories? Completely gone.

As for Gaurun, the black mage who had killed Castian, it was clear he had joined the expedition from the beginning with that intention in mind.

And maybe Lydia—this body’s real owner—had joined for the same reason. Perhaps she planned to use Castian’s corpse for her own ends.

I knew something felt off when the expedition allowed rogue dark mages to tag along on a mission to hunt dark mages. It screamed of a setup. A giant narrative trap.

I just didn’t expect me to be the trap.

Goddamn it. All I ever did was rant about the author when they axed my favorite character and abandoned the series.

And now I was about to die by the hands of said favorite.

As I sniffled, I cautiously lifted my head—and locked eyes with Castian once more.

He’d looked ready to tear me apart earlier, but now… there was something strange in his expression.

Then, Edan—the hot-tempered red-haired knight—shouted again.

“Why are you hesitating? Kill her now!”

Edan Marlowe. Castian’s most loyal subordinate and a genius swordsman barely into adulthood.

In the novel, he’d been a cute little brother figure, devoted to Castian. Turns out, he’s just a reckless maniac who doesn’t value human life.

Dying just ten minutes after being possessed? No way. That would be an embarrassing isekai record.

I refused to let that happen.

I yelled out with everything I had.

“Wait—No!”

“Not now,” Castian said at the exact same time.

We both looked at each other, our words overlapping.

I was briefly thrilled we were on the same page—until I realized the words “Not now” were deeply unsettling.

Not now? So maybe later?

Before he could say anything else, I cut in quickly.

“If I die, Castian-nim will die too!”

“Don’t spout nonsense, necromancer! What tricks are you trying to pull now?”

It wasn’t nonsense or a trick. But Edan didn’t care—he raised his sword and charged at me.

Was I really about to become an isekai world record?

I yanked my hood down and instinctively curled up, just as the sharp clash of swords rang out—clang!

“I said no, Edan.”

My heart pounding, I cautiously peeked up.

Two blades were crossed right above my head.

The deadly gleam of their swords nearly sent my heart and eyeballs flying out together.

Castian had blocked Edan’s strike, glaring down at him with visible irritation.

Edan, realizing he had crossed blades with his lord, looked deeply ashamed and immediately lowered his weapon. Castian did the same, sheathing his sword in a smooth motion.

He turned to glance at me—still frozen, mouth gaping like a fish—before moving toward the anxious-looking priest nearby and whispering something to him.

With Castian gone, Edan and the rest of the knights hurried to follow him.

Now that no one was looking, I quietly scrambled to a corner and crouched down against the wall, eyes darting around as I tried to take in the situation.

It looked grim from every angle.

In the original novel, “The Saint and the Shadow Villain Join Hands,” this scene took place during the final strategy meeting before the expedition to stop the Demon King’s descent.

Present were the kidnapped Saint’s rescuers: the two rogue dark mages who offered information, the priests, the mages, the expedition commander Castian, and his knights.

And now? One corpse. One walking corpse. One about to become a corpse.

That last one was me.

Tears welled in my eyes again. Across the room, I glared with all my might at Gaurun’s lifeless body.

Then I heard something interesting—one of the high priests speaking.

“If we could find the Wandering Sage, perhaps they could bring Lord Castian back.”

Wandering Sage?

Could Castian still be saved?

I craned my neck, hanging on to the next words from a nearby mage.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll cast a preservation spell on his body. Seek out the Wandering Sage as quickly as possible.”

As the mage cast the spell, Castian’s body became enveloped in a soft glow—just enough to keep him preserved in his current state for a short while.

Still, Castian looked skeptical.

“Even the Wandering Sage… Can they truly bring the dead back?”

“It’s worth a try in your condition. After all, it’s the soul’s departure—not the wounds—that defines death. If your soul is intact, reviving your body could be enough.”

I nodded vigorously from my corner.

This world had necromancers who summoned spirits—so surely a miracle-healing priest wasn’t too far-fetched.

Right? Castian can’t die like this. Not our Castian. Not to a plot hole and an author rage quit!

As I wiped my nose, the mage turned toward me.

“However…”

Oh no. Why was he looking at me?

What was that ominous “however” supposed to mean?

“Until the Wandering Sage is found… only her dark magic can keep Castian’s soul bound to this world.”

Every living soul in the room turned their eyes to me.

I hated attention in general—but this kind? Absolutely not.

I tried to melt into the wall, but Castian slowly approached.

“So… the necromancer binding my soul.”

“You must keep her alive until the Wandering Sage is found. If she breaks the spell even once, your soul will cross to the other side,” the mage warned.

Castian gave a lopsided smile, as if amused by this terrible reality.

Then he knelt in front of me.

His eyes met mine, that dangerous smile playing across his lips.

It was like watching my doomed future unfold in 4K.

His voice was low, strangely cheerful.

“So that’s the deal.”

“W-what deal?”

“If you’re not allied with that black mage, prove it. Keep my soul tethered until we find the Sage. Do that… and I’ll believe you.”

I wanted to shout, Of course!

I wanted nothing more than for him to survive—and to prove my innocence.

But there’s a difference between what you want to do and what you can do.

I hesitated and cautiously asked,