Chapter 1
How on earth did my life end up like this?
Ragged breaths poured out of me as if my heart might burst through my mouth, my calves trembling like those of a newborn lamb.
Right now, I was desperately running for my life.
“Help! Someone, please help me!”
The scream tearing out of my throat was the loudest I had ever made in my entire life. Because of my harsh breathing, my already exhausted throat filled with a metallic, blood-like taste.
“Grrrk, kiaaah!”
As if in answer, the cry of a monster echoed from nearby. At the thunderous roar that shook the mountain, my legs—long past their limit—buckled violently.
Before I could even react, the ground rushed up at me, and I went tumbling headlong onto the dirt.
With shaking hands, I pushed myself up and turned my head. There it was—the monster, slowing its pace to savor cutting off the breath of prey it had already cornered. Just a few meters ahead, it crouched low. The long snout and the fangs jutting out from it gleamed viciously in the sunlight.
Those teeth would soon pierce my neck. It would hurt like hell. Since it was pain I’d be feeling soon anyway, I stopped myself from imagining it.
As if my closing eyes were a signal, the monster leapt.
The sound of it kicking off the ground brushed past my ears, and my final scream burst from my mouth.
“Uh, Mom—!”
How unlucky. The two moms who could have answered my call were both no longer in this world.
I’m going to die. Again. This time at the age of twelve, after nothing but hardship!
Looks like the word “good fortune” doesn’t exist in my life. Only then did tears finally leak out in my injustice.
Right after dying in a sudden traffic accident, I was reborn in the body of a newborn baby. It was a reincarnation so fast there wasn’t even a cooldown.
It didn’t take long to realize that this was the world of the novel I’d read in my previous life, The Isthea Chronicles. From a few place names, I could quickly infer where I was.
The Isthea Chronicles had been one of my favorite novels in my past life. Though it was nothing more than a shallow third-rate fantasy, it had a power-fantasy protagonist and a cathartic revenge plot. It perfectly matched my taste for heroic epics, so I reread it several times.
“If only it had ended here.”
Muttering angrily, I slapped the laundry against the washboard. After hours of work, my shoulders were aching badly.
Sure, fine. A world where I know the future—what a huge advantage. And even better, the place where the protagonist I rooted for was alive and breathing!
But there was a problem. Even if I knew the future from the book, it wasn’t my future. It was entirely the protagonist’s future, told from his point of view—the future he would struggle through.
Knowing what trials would befall him and what glorious ending awaited him did nothing to improve my own situation.
Because right now, I was a wretched hanger-on who had to worry about every single meal.
An orphan from some backwoods village, treated like a burden. If I had to describe my role, maybe something like the household slave of a mean-spirited aunt?
A very, very ordinary rural girl who lost her parents young and survived by watching other people’s moods—just a little unfortunate. And to top it off, I was an extra who never even appeared in the novel.
“No, at this point, even calling me an extra is too generous. I’ll never even get a glimpse of the protagonist’s face.”
A sigh mixed into my self-mocking words.
Of course. Most of the story in the novel took place in the capital, and as someone stuck in some countryside backwater, I’d never even brush past the protagonist’s sleeve, let alone meet him.
World-hopping, reincarnation, possession. If this had happened during my teenage years, I’d have gone crazy over it. But unfortunately, when I died, I was an adult in the prime of my life, steadily building a stable future.
In my past life, I grew up in a loving family in a comfortable, if not extravagant, environment. I had several close friends I could confide in about anything. I had grown attached to a job that matched my major, felt proud of my stable income, and had just started enjoying the fun of spending money.
So there was no way I could be satisfied with my current situation—being scolded and living as a freeloader at such a young age.
“This is so unfair, I could die!”
I squeezed out the last piece of laundry with all my strength, emphasizing each word. Even after putting in all my effort, the water dripping from between my thin, bony fingers was pitifully little. Still, the weather was good, so if I hung it up properly, it would dry quickly. I tossed the damp laundry carelessly into the basket and stretched.
“Ugh, I’m dying.”
A groan escaped my lips on its own. It was really sad that at my age, there wasn’t a single part of my body that didn’t ache.
Beads of sweat clung to my forehead. I roughly wiped them away with my sleeve and let out a deep sigh.
I used to have a past where I lived without even getting a drop of water on my hands—if I exaggerated just a little. No one would believe me, though.
I hitched up the hem of my skirt and tied it above my knees, then stepped boldly into the stream. The water was so clear I could see the bottom. When I dipped my hands into the flowing water, my overheated body from labor cooled down quickly.
“Haah, I feel alive again…”
A sigh of relief escaped me. I stared blankly at the smooth pebbles and swaying water plants beneath the surface. At some point, the reflection of a child appeared on the calm water.
Thick, walnut-brown curly hair and bright teal eyes.
A gentle-faced child was staring straight back at me.
Even though I was skinny from not eating properly and dressed shabbily, I looked promising enough, having inherited my mother’s looks—she’d been said to be the greatest beauty in the area.
At least the new face I got was that of a likable pretty girl, which was some comfort in my misfortune. But considering my circumstances, it wasn’t really a blessing.
With no fence of protection around me, having a pretty face just meant a life of suffering was all but guaranteed.
I irritably shook the hand submerged in the water. Ripples spread out, and my reflection vanished in an instant.
When I lifted my head, I saw the thick forest.
The northern forest where I was now was known for wild beasts and monsters, so ordinary children didn’t come here. But for me—the village’s only unwanted child—it was no different from my front yard.
There was no way my nominal guardian, my aunt Lamia, would worry about me at all. If I got eaten by a beast, I’d be lucky if she didn’t rejoice that there was one less mouth to feed.
Before I could even finish the thought, my stomach growled loudly.
“…I’m hungry.”
There was only one reason I’d come into this dangerous northern forest in the first place. Even so, there was plenty to eat here.
Edible roots, mushrooms, and tree fruit. At this level, it was practically a god-given health diet.
I reached out, pushed aside the nearest bush, and popped a freshly picked fruit into my mouth.
“Blech, spit.”
It was dry and bitter. Well, it was still too early in the season for the fruit to be ripe. The brief positivity I’d mustered quickly wore off.
“I want to eat meat…”
I muttered gloomily, then shook my head. At least there was something to fill my stomach. If there wasn’t even a forest like this nearby, I’d be starving for sure.
I began rummaging around in earnest.
In the vast forest, the only thing filling the air was the sound of my footsteps. The feeling of having this huge forest all to myself slowly lifted my spirits.
Towering trees growing wildly without order, flower buds of all kinds just beginning to peek out. The brilliant sunlight pouring through the thick leaves was a spectacle in itself.
To think that after only ever riding subway trains packed like bean sprouts in my past life, I could now enjoy this kind of pristine nature. Life really was unpredictable.
“One of my dreams was to move to the countryside. I didn’t expect it to come true this fast.”
It was kind of funny that I still had this sort of sentimentality, but it was also a good thing. Without romance, people wither.
After humming to myself and wandering diligently for a while, my apron was soon piled high with small, unripe fruits.
“Shall I call it a day?”
I smiled in satisfaction as I looked down at the not-quite-ripe fruits. If I let them ripen in a drawer for a few days, they’d be edible. Thinking it was time to head home, I reached out for the laundry basket I’d left carelessly in the grass.
“Grrk.”
