chapter 1
“Ahhh!”
The ground beneath her feet collapsed, and she plunged down a sheer cliff.
She had spent her life studying the difficult art of astronomy and stubbornly practicing astrology just to survive another day… and now it was all ending like this.
No, maybe it was for the best. This place wasn’t meant for people to live. Staying any longer might have driven her mad.
From the cliff above, men covered in blood shouted fiercely:
“Find the evil witch astrologer!”
“Cut her head off as soon as you find her!”
Something snapped inside her. The anger she had held back while struggling to survive exploded.
“You monsters! I’m already dying here!”
Her remaining life: 1 year, 4 months, 23 days.
The life of an extra—the witch astrologer—in the 36th novel, Viking Kingdom, ended with a cliff fall.
…But she knew it wasn’t really the end.
Please, 37th chapter, let me be transferred to a story where I don’t die.
“Miss Charlotte?”
Someone whispered. She felt her shoulders shake.
“Miss Charlotte… Miss Charlotte.”
“Wait, is she dead?”
“No way…”
“Then why did she just collapse and stop breathing?”
Fearful voices whispered above her.
“Stop breathing,” she thought. Her fall had been excruciating, and now her eyes snapped open.
“Eeek!”
The startled servants jumped back.
She pushed herself up from the table like a roly-poly toy.
One trembling servant asked from a distance:
“Are you… alright, Miss?”
Charlotte instinctively took stock of her surroundings.
She was in a European-style, antique hall.
Women in fancy dresses and men in frock coats and cravats surrounded her.
Overjoyed, Charlotte grabbed the table and jumped up.
“Yes! Finally!”
She had been transferred. She was no longer a filthy witch astrologer being chased by Viking warriors.
And this lavish interior—her eyes nearly popped.
In the 37th chapter, she seemed to be a young lady from a noble family.
Could it be—the end of misfortune and the start of happiness?
After dying from a sudden bus accident, she had repeatedly died and revived as insignificant extras in 36 different novels.
Now, finally, she had been transferred into a romance fantasy.
Yes! This had to be a reward from the gods after dying painfully 36 times.
“Sit down, Charlotte Able!”
She flinched at the shout. A middle-aged man with a pointed mustache scowled at her.
“There’s a limit to shocking your family. How were you raised, Charlotte?”
Charlotte Able. That was her new identity in this story.
“Sorry,” she said, folding her hands neatly over her stomach and sitting properly.
Curious about her new face, she glanced at a shiny silver teapot. The maid must be good at her work.
Charlotte peeked into the teapot’s reflection.
Red, fluffy hair.
Clear green eyes.
A small, delicate nose and mouth.
Despite wearing a worn brown dress, the teenage girl looked cute and innocent.
This face was hers now. She was overjoyed.
The pain of falling off the cliff? Forgotten.
The thrill of being chased by Vikings for predicting a king’s death? Worth it.
“Ha!”
The girls sitting like porcelain dolls laughed.
“Look at her, giggling without any manners. How silly! She doesn’t look like she’s from the Able family at all.”
“See? She only learns when she’s scolded.”
“Born illegitimate, what can you expect? Not stupid, though.”
“Even during a serious will reading, she just fell asleep like that.”
Will reading? Charlotte realized they were gathered for inheritance matters.
Her position was clear: upgraded version of a foolish Cinderella.
A young man standing by the marble fireplace asked kindly:
“Are you alright, Miss Charlotte?”
Charlotte froze, stunned by his beauty.
Wavy black hair covering his neck, cold yet alluring silver eyes, and seductive red lips. His low voice was both smooth and mesmerizing.
Shaking her head slightly, Charlotte collected herself.
“Shall I call a doctor? You fainted, so it’s best to be examined first.”
“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Relieved, Charlotte smiled. In the Viking Kingdom, where life had no value, the concern warmed her heart.
The man checked her again, then addressed the others:
“Now that Miss Charlotte has awakened, I, as the Able family’s lawyer, will continue reading the rest of the will.”
He wasn’t family—he was a lawyer.
“This concerns the inheritance for Charlotte Able.”
He unrolled a scroll.
“To my beloved youngest granddaughter, Charlotte Beatrice Able, I leave the seven-story building on Rainbow Street and everything inside. I hope this will help you greatly, Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened.
The seven-story building on Rainbow Street? She would inherit it?
Wow! She covered her mouth to hold back a cheer, stomping her feet under her worn dress.
She had been transferred into another story and immediately inherited a building—a seven-story one!
She had prayed for a story where she wouldn’t die, and now this. Tears filled her eyes.
All the minor extra jobs she had endured in 36 previous transfers flashed through her mind.
No more digging the land for poor harvests.
No more serving cruel masters.
No more worrying about not affording bread.
She was now a building owner with steady income.
Hunger and cold—gone. She finally had a comfortable life with wealth and security.
But then, angry voices interrupted:
“Impossible! How can the Rainbow family give that building to that fool!”
“Yes! This cannot happen!”
“Mother must be crazy! How could she leave the building to that idiot?”
“I can’t accept this will! Mother wasn’t in her right mind when she wrote it!”
Charlotte glanced at the noblewomen behind the red-faced men. They looked elegant, but their eyes were deadly.
Had she only been transferred 15 minutes ago… could she die again?
No way. This was a romance fantasy!
Then she noticed a broken teacup under the Wedgwood table—the cup Charlotte had dropped when she had fainted.
Had she been poisoned?
“Do you wish to contest this will?”
The handsome lawyer asked after listening to the Able family’s complaints.
“Of course! Mother wouldn’t have given our building to our family’s disgrace if she were of sound mind!”
Charlotte, shocked by the thought of poisoning, realized now wasn’t the time.
She had to secure the seven-story building. If she died again, it could be gone.
“Excuse me, what happens if I accept the contest?”
“The Imperial law will determine the inheritance’s legitimacy.”
“…How long?”
“A few years at least. Shortest five, maybe more. No guarantees.”
Charlotte felt panic rise.
If she did this, she might be the only one disadvantaged.
The stakes were high—she had to protect her inheritance.
