Relax.

Those crimson eyes, visible through the brilliant golden hair, stared right at me.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“You know struggling won’t change anything. Your arm’s going to break.”

I know—but if I relax, he’ll just pull me closer.

Lost in that thought, I unconsciously bit down hard on my lower lip.

In response, he released my wrist and instead wrapped his arms around my waist, yanking me toward him.

“Kyaa!”

Before I could even think of resisting, my forehead smacked against his broad, solid chest—and at the same time, a large hand gently cradled my head, patting it soothingly.

“You’re cute, but stop squirming.”

I quickly stepped back one pace and glared at him.

“I have a fiancé.”

“No problem. You won’t tomorrow.”

His casual delivery of that absurd statement forced me to ask again.

“What? Why?”

“He’s going to die later today.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean, you lunatic!

“For now, we’ll just hold hands and behave.”

As he spoke those most unbelievable words imaginable, he roughly yanked off his cravat.

Does this man even have a concept of common sense?

The deep blue cravat thudded to the floor—and simultaneously, my heart plummeted with it.

Each time a shirt button popped open, my cheeks grew hotter and redder.

Watching me, a faint smirk escaped his lips.

“If you want, we can skip ahead.”

“I don’t want to.”

“We’ll see. I’ll tempt you—try to hold out.”

“No…!”

Who asked you to tempt me? I already said no!

But his hurried breath, hot and urgent as he swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, washed over the nape of my neck.

“Don’t move—it’s exciting me.”

“H—hold on a second…!”

“You’re not going anywhere. I’ve decided you’re mine.”

Why is this man acting like this toward me?

The one he should be obsessed with is the female lead, not me! Did he mistake me for someone else?

Crazy bastard. Please, just let me go.

[This is the timeline separator]

So, half a year ago, I died.

It was the fourth consecutive day of overnight work, all because my insane boss had deleted a critical file. On my way home, I got hit by a Porsche.

Bang! Then darkness.

When I opened my eyes, absurdly, I was sitting inside an unfamiliar carriage.

“Huh? Huh!”

Panicked by the strange vibrations of the swaying carriage, I looked around.

Before I could even process the situation, I was momentarily stunned by the breathtaking beauty of the woman right in front of me.

The girl with fine, chestnut-brown hair and a pure, innocent face was gazing at me with concern.

“Latieana? Are you okay?”

Latieana? Is she talking to me?

“W—who are you?”

“What’s wrong? Still half-asleep? It’s me, Ivy.”

She smiled brightly and grabbed my arm—and at that moment, thoughts spiraled through my head, and everything came rushing back.

“…!”

Crap! No!

Cold sweat trickled down my spine, goosebumps erupted all over, and my face turned deathly pale.

Not hit by a reincarnation truck—but by a reincarnation Porsche!

I remembered the novel’s plot clearly—I’d been reading it right before death, standing at the crosswalk waiting for the signal.

This was the 19+ trashy novel , starring the great holy maiden Ivy Violet.

The story followed Ivy, raised in a rural orphanage, who manifested healing powers and was brought to the temple, where she met the male leads and got tangled up in all sorts of romantic drama.

It was a reverse harem novel—but Ivy ultimately couldn’t choose just one male lead, so it ended with her keeping them all.

Except for one. The mad villain. There were four male lead candidates, but the villain had fallen into irreversible darkness and was seriously unhinged, so the heroine only ended up with the other three.

And my role was…

—Your hair is so beautiful. Like cherry blossom petals.

An extra named Latieana Merigold, who had cherry-blossom-pink hair that Ivy, with her chestnut locks, envied.

Latieana briefly appeared early in the story as Ivy’s orphanage friend, also possessing healing powers. But after entering the temple together, she took a completely different path from Ivy—the heroine.

Unlike Ivy, whose healing powers overflowed, Latieana’s were mediocre and unreliable.

As a result, she was exploited left and right, eventually losing all her power and dying.

For someone who even had a full name, she was an extra with zero dreams or hope.

How did Latieana’s final moment go again? Ivy, struggling among the male leads, went to Latieana’s room for advice—and found her collapsed, half-mummified.

And then,

—My friend is dead!

…was it?

And the male leads’ lines…

—Forget what isn’t important.

—Let me hold you tonight, and you’ll find comfort.

—You’re more than enough with just me.

…right.

Are you kidding me?

An extra with zero influence on the plot! Not even praised for her face—just her hair!

Dying after rolling around helplessly? And turning into a mummy?!

I swallowed my rising sense of injustice and asked Ivy.

“I guess I’m still half-asleep. So, Ivy, where are we headed right now?”

“Huh? We’re on our way to the temple.”

Is this what it feels like to get smacked upside the head with words?

I clutched at my crumbling sanity and asked again.

“R—right now?”

“Are you really okay? Well, I guess being stuck in a carriage for three days straight would be exhausting. Hang in there. We’ll reach the portal in two hours. From there, the capital’s just a short teleport away.”

No! If I go to the capital like this, I’m finished!

I glanced out the window—the carriage was passing through a thickly wooded forest.

I took a deep breath, clenched my fists, and looked at Ivy with a determined expression.

“Ivy, live happily ever after!”

“…What?”

Better to break a leg than die.

I flung open the carriage door and leapt out without hesitation.

“Kyaaak! Latieana!”

Thud-thud-thud-thump!

I tumbled miserably through the trees, making sounds like a mortar pounding rice in a hillside village.

The carriage briefly stopped, and I saw the holy knights and Ivy looking for me—but I held my breath, pressed myself flat against the ground, and luckily, the carriage eventually drove away.

They only wanted Ivy. I was just a bonus tagalong—so this escape was possible.

‘Back then, I really thought I was going to die.’

But that was all in the past.

Afterward, I found work in an ancient castle in the eastern region, far from the capital.

The castle’s owner was intensely reclusive—I didn’t even know his face or what kind of person he was.

All I knew was that he was rich, somewhat sickly, and a total shut-in?

Because of that master, there were no other employees besides me—the only person I ever saw was Smith, the delivery guy who brought groceries every few days.

‘Don’t you get lonely, working all alone?’

‘A little. But it’s fine.’

Every time Smith asked, I brushed it off vaguely.

Lonely? As if! This job is absolute heaven.

Just preparing a simple breakfast once a day and doing light dusting—and for that, I get 1.5 times the salary of anywhere else.

Sure, there’s plenty to do in an old castle if you go looking—but no one nags if I don’t work, and no one interferes if I’m slow.

It’s basically a healing life disguised as a salary heist!

Thanks to this, my bank account keeps growing, and my future plans are steadily progressing.

If nothing unusual happens, I’ll be able to leave the empire soon.

That is—if nothing unusual happens.

[This is the timeline separator]

“….”

After finishing cleaning, I was heading to my room on the second floor when I suddenly stopped.

Why? What’s wrong?

The tray with breakfast still sat untouched in the hallway.

“Master, is something wrong…?”

The household routine had never changed.

At least not in the last three months.

I wake up at 8 a.m., deliver breakfast on a tray to the master’s door at 9 a.m., do housework, and go to sleep around 10 p.m.

The master checks the breakfast I brought, takes the tray into his room shortly after, and leaves the empty dishes in the hallway at 11 p.m.

Though a shut-in, he did have active hours—from 11 p.m. to 5 a.m.

With so few furnishings and no people, even the smallest sound echoed loudly through the empty castle at night.

After tracking his footsteps for the first few weeks, I concluded:

This guy’s a bookworm. Why? Because whenever he left his room at night, his footsteps always headed toward the library on the far right side of the castle.

His room was on the far left, mine was midway down the corridor—so I could track his movements even better.

Anyway, the master spent all night in the library and returned to his room just before dawn.

Sometimes even leaving trails of nosebleeds in the hallway.

A sickly, nosebleed-prone, book-devouring shut-in. I’d pinned every wobbly descriptive phrase I could think of onto him.

At first, I found him suspicious and scary since I had no idea what he did—but now, if I didn’t hear his footsteps at the usual time, I’d worry something had happened to him.

“Having to confirm someone’s alive by listening for footsteps…”

But today, I had to confirm his survival via the tray.

Staring silently at the tray, I frowned with puzzled curiosity.

Wait—did I hear his footsteps at dawn yesterday?

I hurried toward the library, worried he might have collapsed or fallen asleep there.

But the library was completely empty.

[This is the timeline separator]

2 p.m.

The tray remained untouched.

3 p.m., 5 p.m., 7 p.m., 9 p.m.

I checked periodically, but the tray stubbornly stayed in place.

“….”

Surely he hasn’t… died?

Anxiety crept over me. But I couldn’t just barge into the master’s room.

My employment contract specifically stated: “Under no circumstances shall you open the master’s door.”

Eventually, 10 p.m. arrived.

Only one hour left until the master’s usual active period.

“Please, Master Shut-in, move around healthily.”

Even if he only ate one meal a day, wouldn’t there be days when illness killed his appetite?

Days when he just couldn’t stomach food. I sincerely prayed today was one of those days—and turned off the lights.

Less than five minutes later, I heard footsteps.

Thud-thud.

My eyes flew open.

You’re alive! Shut-in! I believed in you!

Relief flooded through me, and I smiled brightly.

“But… moving around at this hour?”

Curious about his unusually early activity, I cautiously opened my door and stepped out.

Creeeak. First, I looked left—toward the master’s room.

But only bright moonlight streamed through the large window, flooding the hallway. No one was there.

Then I turned my head the other way.

And—

“Kyaaaaaah!”

I screamed with all my might—and froze on the spot.

A tall man stood in the center of the hallway, his black cloak fluttering, holding a gleaming longsword.

Drenched head to toe in thick, dark red blood.

Thanks to the bright moonlight, his strikingly handsome face, shimmering golden hair, and crazed crimson eyes were instantly visible.

The chilling man looked at me and crooked one side of his mouth into a sinister smirk.

“Oh? Caught already.”

Huh?