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Chapter 02
“So this… is me.”
I stared at the unfamiliar woman in the mirror as if we were having a staring contest.
Pale pink eyes that didn’t feel like mine reflected clearly in the glass.
How can this be real?
I had hoped this was just a strange dream caused by overwork.
But even the next day, I was still Serpiene Mirabelle.
I grabbed my waist-length silver hair, then let it fall again—repeating the motion dozens of times.
In the end, I decided I had no choice but to accept reality.
Fine. Maybe this is a chance.
Maybe the heavens, pitying a wage slave who died young from overwork, had given me another shot at life.
The problem was that I was still doomed to die soon.
There was no time to celebrate a “new life” when I might not even get to use it.
Wait… how did Serpiene die again?
If I wanted to survive, I couldn’t just waste this second chance.
I racked my brain, trying to recall the original story.
“Other reincarnation novels have protagonists who can recite the whole thing… why can’t I remember anything?”
So much for being a “main character” in a possession story.
Unfortunately, my memory wasn’t good enough to recall exact passages. Only the broad outline and vague fragments remained, and I had to piece everything together like a broken puzzle.
With a heavy sigh, I opened a notebook and picked up a fountain pen.
From what I could recall, there were only two certain facts about Serpiene’s death:
- She received a request from the imperial consort and made poison for her.
- She was quietly killed on the consort’s orders to erase all traces.
But I don’t even know when or how she dies.
That was the most important part, and yet I couldn’t remember a single detail about it.
There were only vague implications that she was eliminated by the consort.
There wasn’t even much about Serpiene in the novel to begin with.
A minor villain who appears briefly in the early chapters wouldn’t get detailed treatment.
So basically, Serpiene died a meaningless death… and now I’m next.
There was no point agonizing over details that weren’t even in the book.
If I wanted to live, I needed a plan.
How much time do I have until the Founding Festival?
I turned my gaze to the imperial calendar on the desk.
Between Serpiene’s scattered notes, I found the date of the festival.
“…20 days.”
I checked it to estimate when the imperial consort would send the poison request.
The consort planned to place her own son at the festival in the crown prince’s stead to gain public favor.
According to her scheme, she would need to poison the crown prince before the event—meaning the request would arrive shortly before the festival.
So I really don’t have much time.
My blood ran cold.
The consort killed Serpiene to erase evidence.
That meant simply receiving the request already put my life in danger, regardless of whether I accepted it.
What could a powerless extra do against the empress consort of an empire?
After intense deliberation, I reached a conclusion.
…I’ll run.
That was the only option.
I would disappear somewhere no one could find me until the main story ended.
If I vanish, the consort will just find another way.
The plot might shift slightly, but it wouldn’t significantly affect the protagonists.
If I were important enough to change the main story, I wouldn’t have been killed off so early in the first place.
“Alright. I’m resigning immediately.”
First, I needed to get out of the Magic Tower.
I wrote my resignation letter without hesitation and headed toward the top floor.
I hadn’t known before, since she was only called “the witch of the Magic Tower” in the novel, but Serpiene was actually the Tower Master’s secretary.
And if I was quitting, naturally I had to tell the Tower Master.
So I climbed the endless stairs leading to his quarters.
“…Haa. This feels less like a job resignation and more like a fitness test.”
The staircase went on forever.
The Magic Tower clearly didn’t care about convenience when it was built.
Of course they teleport everywhere.
Teleportation was not something to take lightly.
One mistake could tear your body apart. Only highly skilled mages above a certain rank could use it safely.
Most mages in the tower were indeed elite.
But unlike how terrifying witches were described in the novel, Serpiene had no magical power at all.
This setting makes no sense!
Unfortunately, that meant I had to climb the stairs like a normal person.
Finally reaching the top, I caught my breath.
“Haa… I’m dying…”
There was only one room on this floor.
The Tower Master’s office.
I walked down the long red carpet and knocked.
Just as I waited for permission, the door clicked open by itself.
…Magic.
To this world, it was nothing special—but to me, it was still surreal.
Guess I’m being invited in.
I stepped inside carefully.
Trying not to look around too much, I soon saw him.
The Tower Master was seated at his desk, reading documents.
Beside him sat a black cat, flicking its tail with an arrogant expression.
Lucifer!
The glossy black fur made it obvious—it was the Tower Master’s familiar.
Cute, just like described in the novel… but Serpiene’s memories warned me not to touch it. Its personality was supposedly terrible.
I ignored the cat’s piercing gaze and approached the desk.
I slid my resignation letter forward.
The Tower Master slowly raised his head.
“What is this?”
…Oh no.
Seeing his face, my thoughts froze.
Is this kind of face even legal?
It was beautifully sculpted, yet distinctly masculine—an oddly dangerous combination.
There was something decadent and sharp about him, exactly as I had imagined the “second male lead.”
…It’s honestly a waste that he’s not the main character.
I couldn’t help wondering just how impressive the crown prince must be to have beaten this face in the original story.
Guess childhood friend backstories really are unbeatable.
As a former hardcore second-male-lead supporter, I felt a brief sense of regret.
“You asked what this is, Serpiene.”
Roakin’s voice pulled me back to reality.
Right. I came here to quit.
Even after reincarnation, apparently I still had the habit of getting distracted by faces.
I clenched my fist and spoke firmly.
“A resignation letter. I’m quitting my job.”
Ah, that felt amazing.
A sentence I had only ever imagined in my previous life finally left my mouth, and it felt like my chest had been blown open.
“…Did I hear that wrong? What did you just say?”
His violet eyes, once sharp, now looked momentarily blank.
Huh?
According to Serpiene’s memories, the Tower Master was always cold, almost emotionless.
But now he looked genuinely stunned—more shocked than I was.
Well… I guess a secretary quitting out of nowhere would be surprising.
I nodded.
“I said I’m quitting.”
“…Reason?”
“That’s personal.”
“You’re leaving without giving a reason?”
I nodded again.
His expression darkened instantly, draining of all color.
A chill ran down my spine.
Why is he suddenly so scary?
The room was warm, but his presence made it feel freezing.
I wasn’t doing this to be difficult.
I just couldn’t say I was a reincarnated person fleeing to avoid getting murdered by the imperial consort.
If I did, they’d definitely think I’d lost my mind.
“Please find a replacement as soon as possible.”
Even after hearing me, Roakin said nothing, only tapping his fingers lightly on the desk.
Silence stretched, broken only by the crackling fireplace.
Then—
“No.”
“…Excuse me?”
My words stumbled.
“Is that a no?”
“Our agreement hasn’t been fulfilled yet, Serpiene.”
He gestured.
Golden light formed in the air, revealing a floating document covered in dense writing.
My eyes immediately caught the familiar structure.
A contract.
And at the center, glowing clearly:
[—Contract Duration: 3 years.]
I quickly calculated.
There was still one month left.
One more month? Are you kidding me?
That was more than enough time for the consort’s request to arrive.
“If it’s just one month… can’t you just terminate it early?”
I asked desperately.
But Roakin took my resignation letter without a word.
Then he crushed it in his hand.
Flames burst to life.
The letter was engulfed in fire and turned to ash in seconds.
“…!”
I froze.
The meaning was unmistakable.
Rejected.
“We’ll talk again in a month.”
His eyes, lit with flickering red firelight, met mine.
And in that moment, I knew—
something had already gone very wrong.
