Chapter 1

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Translator: Vine

Chapter: 1

Chapter Title: The Truth Behind the Misunderstanding and the Scam

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There’s a saying that when you die, the first completed romance fantasy novel you read comes to greet you.

I only knew the typical story: while reading a novel and thinking, “That character is so pitiful! If it were me, I’d…” you get hit by the transmigration truck and wake up as that character.

But I lived in a conflict zone, and after a fighter jet bombing was the last thing I saw, I opened my eyes to find myself as Cynthia, a maid in the Queensguard Count family.

Cynthia’s life, having worked here since childhood, had been nothing but hardships.

By all rights, she should have turned dark, but Cynthia was kind-hearted by nature.

“Just like me, too damn nice…”

Having taken on this tragic role without even knowing the original story, I pathetically rested one hand on my cheek.

The reason I was convinced this was a novel world was because it felt similar to a novel I’d skimmed briefly.

The genres I read were mostly rom-coms, redemption stories, and healing tales. Mostly “mutual salvation” where a sunny heroine heals a wounded male lead.

So this must be that kind of novel too.

“Phew, at least it’s not a worn-out tragedy. Small mercies.”

As I sat in my room sighing in relief, a senior maid burst through the door with a bang.

“Hey, Esat Mongrel.”

The servants in the count’s family called me an “Esat Mongrel.”

The Esat People were a persecuted ethnic group, now reduced to a tiny minority, characterized by white hair like mine, so everyone assumed I was a half-breed.

“I’m not a mongrel; I’m a mutant.”

I kindly corrected her.

My white hair, ghostly pale skin, and light red eyes were due to albinism.

At my innocent response, she twitched her eyebrow and raised her voice gruffly.

“Mutant or not, you’re still that unlucky white rat! Young Master Karos is calling for you. Hurry up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Unlucky supervisors exist in every genre.

I stood up and headed straight to Karos’s room.

Karos Queensguard.

The eldest son of the family and heir to the count’s title.

A handsome man with ash-gold hair tinged gray and wall-like eyes, he was a man who loved a debauched life.

Definitely not the male lead.

“Cynthia, the time has come to repay my kindness. You promised to give me your life.”

He was the type who exploited Cynthia’s weaknesses—not even a redemption arc, just a total bastard.

From Cynthia’s lingering memories, at seventeen, she had accidentally killed someone.

There was a gambler drunkard who posed as her father and exploited her. He’d occasionally get violent with her, and one day, as she resisted, he slipped from her hand, hit his head, and crossed the Styx River.

Karos had learned of it by chance and covered up the murder charge. Moved by this, Cynthia not only devoted her life to him but gave him her heart as well.

Thus began an even more vile exploitative relationship.

“How long do I have to keep paying this off without end…?”

I muttered in dissatisfaction.

For reference, debts of weakness and love can never be repaid until death.

Not until one of the creditor or debtor dies.

“This is the last time, Cynthia.”

The love-debt bastard, no better than her rotten father, continued slowly.

“Two marriage proposals have arrived for our family.”

“Are they for you, Young Master, and Lady Helen, by any chance?”

I excluded the second son, Edford.

He hadn’t inherited the count’s good looks and lacked ability, so he wasn’t eligible for marriage proposals.

“No. Both are from the grooms’ sides. We only have one daughter, so normally we’d choose one, but…”

He lightly squeezed my finger and smiled.

“Both offers are incredible. We’re the last remaining royal bloodline, after all.”

The late countess, deceased, had been a princess of the fallen Variesa Royal Family twenty years ago.

The revolution had killed all the royals, but she had eloped with the count beforehand, leaving royal-blooded heirs.

Karos stated his conclusion.

“You’ll become a lady of the Queensguard Count family and marry the other one.”

Forcing her to marry another man. Is that something you say to a woman who loves and devotes herself to you?

“Is he handsome? Look at my face.”

If he’s handsome, he’s probably the male lead.

From my extensive reading of romance fantasies day and night, I guessed the male lead would be the Northern Grand Duke—but that missed the mark (he was 95 years old)—but the plot felt similar to Fake Bride Turns Real, which I’d skimmed.

The heroine, a fake bride, has her identity discovered by the male lead, but he pretends not to know out of worry she’ll run away if caught, leading to cute and fluffy rom-com antics.

Karos frowned slightly as I pondered.

“You’ve been acting weird lately. Anyway, once you take that guy’s fortune later, you can spend your life with me. Just bear with it a little.”

Why bother?

“Ah, yes!”

I gave a vague affirmative reply.

First, I needed to find the male lead for the story to progress, so I had to bet on the possibility.

I had no other choices anyway.

Having heard such an offer, refusing meant death, so I had to stay alive and find a way.

Besides, I was unusually lucky.

My previous life ended badly, but restarting in a story where happiness is ultimately won felt like good fortune instead.

I decided to trust my luck.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t optimized for gambling or lotteries.

The human who first devised the “bloodline scam marriage” was Queensguard Count, Karos’s father.

He said to Cynthia standing before him,

“It’s the perfect chance to rise in status and enjoy wealth and glory.”

This was a remote area far from the capital.

The count’s children never entered high society for protection, and their details weren’t widely known. So, as long as the other servants were silenced, it would be fine.

Eyeing Cynthia’s rare appearance up and down, he spoke.

“If anyone suspects, I’ll handle it. Just say you lost your childhood memories in an accident.”

“I really don’t remember my childhood?”

Three months into possession. She only had fragmented memories of the original owner’s life, not the full picture.

The count made a disgusted face and changed the subject.

“Your groom-to-be is a war hero of the republic and a massive tycoon. The best match possible.”

Cynthia asked,

“Why send me, not Lady Helen, to the best groom?”

Helen was his real daughter and Karos’s sister.

It was a sharp question, but he saw Cynthia as a dim-witted woman.

“Helen is set to marry a duke.”

“Why?”

“You couldn’t handle the high-level etiquette for a duke’s family, even with a few days of training.”

He deliberately omitted the vicious rumors that Vicente Brigadier General was a brutal mad slaughterer.

She might get scared and run.

He couldn’t forfeit the massive gains from the marriage.

After the war, the industrial revolution brought explosive growth, turning the marriage market into a trade between “capitalists with money” and “fallen nobles with bloodlines.”

Thus, the value of the “Variesa royal bloodline,” which had fallen dishonorably, naturally rose.

The last remaining royal descendants—prime merchandise for bloodline trading. Enough to make a capitalist officer and a duke family go crazy for them.

Judging by the incredible terms, they were clearly investing in the possibility of monarchy’s revival.

The count couldn’t let both prizes slip away.

So, Cynthia—the foolish woman who would even fake death at Karos’s word—was perfect.

Plus, like royals deified over ages for their uniqueness, didn’t Cynthia have her own striking appearance?

“But this is a scam marriage, right?”

At Cynthia’s question, the count rummaged in his coat pocket.

“If you don’t get caught, it becomes truth.”

He handed her a red diamond necklace, vaguely similar to her eyes.

“It was my wife’s. A royal heirloom. This will dispel suspicions.”

It was valuable, but he’d get it back soon anyway.

“Just watch your mouth. If caught, you’re the one who dies.”

Though she’ll die by my hand before then.

Hiding his thoughts, the count smirked.

Cynthia’s lips also curved slightly as she gripped the necklace.

I’m betting my life that this is a rom-com with感動, healing, and laughs.

Cynthia had no idea this was a worn-out tragedy infamous for its “mutual suicide ending.”

It was a fatally toxic tale, not a healing one.