THVS 01

Chapter 01

If you’re a reader, you’ve probably thought this at least once:
Why does the heroine always end up with nothing but “sweet potato” moments?

She’s born with perfect looks, clearly superior even to mere extras.
Even if every heroine doesn’t have a wealthy family, there’s always a handsome, rich young man circling around to fill that gap.
In this romance-fantasy world, where status and power mean everything, the position of the “heroine” — someone with all of these traits combined — is like a deity.

So why, then, can she never just enjoy the meal laid out for her?!
She constantly finds herself in danger because of the villainess, receives blame and schemes from third-rate extras, and when she finally dresses up beautifully, someone spills wine on her dress.
Exactly like now.

Splash!
The wine poured over her dress, soaking the lace decorations in red stains.
Transparent drops fell over the red marks, spreading across the fabric.

“I knew this would happen… now how am I supposed to console her today…?”

Huh? What on earth is going on…?

“Ahhh! Layla! What are you doing?!”
“Oh, just a mistake.”

Her lovely pink hair, sky-blue eyes like the clearest heavens…
Layla, the innocent and delicate heroine, held the empty wine glass in her hand and spoke.
Gone was the trembling, fragile look from moments before, replaced with eyes that were cool and piercing.

“I’m really sorry, Charbiel. My hand just slipped.”

Everyone present saw her deliberately pour the wine.
And yet, Layla didn’t even blink as she lied through her apology.

Huh…?

I couldn’t help but snicker at her shameless words.
Quickly, I covered my mouth so no one would see.
I doubted my eyes at first, but there was no denying it.
Layla was the one who poured the wine — not the one wearing the dress.

Normally, in such banquets, it’s the heroine who escapes with dirty clothes, right?
But now, that cliché was completely shattered.

What the hell is going on?
Is this really Layla, the helpless heroine who only ever gives “sweet potato” moments?

I wasn’t the only one shocked.
All the nobles in the banquet hall turned their eyes toward Layla and Charbiel.
Among them, the noble ladies who often bullied Layla looked horrified, while some who were frustrated at always seeing her suffer felt a sense of satisfaction.

“I got all dressed up, and now my clothes are dirty… I guess I’ll head back to the mansion today.”
Layla used her handkerchief to clean Charbiel’s dress, wearing an apologetic expression.
Even though she knew it wouldn’t really come clean with just a handkerchief, she didn’t stop.

Seeing this, Charbiel’s face flushed. She trembled as if humiliated.
Thinking she couldn’t stay in the hall like this, she bit her lip and left.

Layla glanced at the handkerchief she’d been using, then tossed it to the floor casually.
Then she looked directly at me.

Her personality seemed split — she flashed a radiant smile, showing off her beauty.

“Tian!”
Grinning, Layla linked arms with me and rested her head on my shoulder.
Her eyes softened and she looked up at me expectantly.

“Did you see that?”
“…Yeah. Everyone here saw it too, not just me.”

Her eyes sparkled even more at my reply.
She looked at me like a puppy who’d performed a trick and now expected praise.
Of course, Layla had no tail, but I could swear there was a little fluffy wagging behind her.

I couldn’t help but speak the words she wanted to hear:

“Good job.”

Her lips curved into the happiest smile.
Seeing her so joyful, I finally realized the truth I’d suspected all along:
My girl has changed!

I patted Layla’s pink hair, like petting a playful puppy.
Perhaps the unexpected touch surprised her, for her expression stiffened briefly before returning to a clear smile.

It had been twenty years since I reincarnated — or rather, possessed a body — inside the decayed romance-fantasy novel “My Beloved Saint.”
Never before had I lost control of my expressions like this.
I covered the upward curve of my lips with my hand, laughing inwardly.

Finally… the “sweet potato” life is over…!

“Crazy! Why is she getting hurt? She should be hurting the villainess!”

After finishing my daily tasks, reading romance-fantasy novels was a small hobby of mine. That day, too, I grabbed a book and yelled at it in frustration.

I liked the cute, lovable heroine so much that I binge-read the novel, but the more I read, the more frustrating the story became.
Where did all the early setup go?

Suppressing my annoyance, I forced myself to finish the ending. As I closed the book, I noticed a keyword that hadn’t been in Volume 1.

“Hu… decay…?”

I’d bought the whole series because the first volume had caught my interest.
But this suddenly appeared keyword made me feel an inexplicable sense of betrayal.
If you were going to do this, why wasn’t it in Volume 1?

I sighed and turned off the lamp.
I pulled the blanket over my head and fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, something sparkled strangely around me.

Where the hell am I?

It didn’t take long to realize the truth.
I was inside the world of “My Beloved Saint” — the very novel I had just been reading.
And, of course, I had possessed the body of the heroine Layla’s childhood friend.
This childhood friend, Tian Elropez, was an extra who would be kidnapped by the male lead pursuing Layla and ultimately die by her own hand.

That part was fine.
Although it was a death ending, it wasn’t impossible to avoid.
If I just didn’t get close to Layla, I could avoid the fatal events.

Of course, the world wasn’t that simple.

Tiny, chubby hands, the size of a cat’s paw.
“Ugh…?”

My words came out differently from what I intended.
Yes… unfortunately, I had possessed the body of Tian Elropez, barely born.
And before I could even crawl, Layla Arvid existed right beside me, crushing my foolish plan to stay distant.

“Tian. This is Layla. She’ll be your first friend.”

I hadn’t anticipated that our parents’ friendship would force us into this path.
And so, I was compelled into the childhood friend route.

When I grew old enough to speak and express myself clearly, I said firmly to Layla:

“I’m not going to play with you.”

I used the excuse of wanting to play with friends who suited me.
I resolved to cut Layla off, but that determination didn’t last.
Like the heroine who couldn’t speak a word and got bullied by villains or extras, she had maxed out her ability to frustrate people from childhood.

As time went on, I realized:
This was a novel world, and Layla was the heroine.
Everything in this world revolved around her, and even if I stayed distant, I would inevitably witness endless “sweet potato” developments.

Reading it as text had been frustrating enough — now I had to see it firsthand?
That was unacceptable.

So I changed tactics.
The “If there’s no cider, make your own cider” strategy.

“Hic… Tian, are you really not going to play with me…?”
“I will. But just follow my instructions.”
“Really? If I follow, you’ll play with me?”
“Of course.”
“What is it…?”

The story hadn’t started yet, and Layla was still young.
If being too innocent was a problem, I could make her less innocent.

“Now, repeat after me: you little bastard.”
“Uh…?”
“You piece of sh*t who will die on the street.”

I felt guilty teaching such words to young Layla, but there was no choice.
Early education works best when started young, after all.

I stared at Layla in surprise and taught her one more thing.
That evening, my life-mate tattled to her mother, and I got scolded harshly — but I didn’t stop.
I continued her early education secretly whenever we were alone.

“This is how you grab the hair, like this. Go deep into the hair and twist your wrist slightly.”
“Like… this…?”

…Ah.
Of course, unlike my perfectly detailed instructions, Layla had absolutely no talent for it.
That should have been the moment to quit.

Little did I know, I would regret this in the future.