Blood red.
That was all I could see as I stumbled back, slamming into my desk. My vision blurred, and a heavy haze clouded my thoughts.
Golden-colored air swirled around ...
Shut.
Open.
The world flickered in and out like a dying fla. My body felt sluggish, as though I had been subrged in thick, suffocating tar. The mont I tried to focus, my vision darkened again.
And then—
An unfamiliar ceiling.
Of course, everything had been unfamiliar since I was possessed by this godforsaken ga. But still...
I struggled to sit up on the neatly kept bed, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles. The air slled of roses, a gentle breeze carrying the scent through an open window. Almost transparent white curtains billowed softly, the light filtering through them casting an ethereal glow over the room.
I tilted my head slightly to the left—only for a searing pain to shoot through my neck.
"AGHH—"
I clutched at my throat on instinct. Then—
I froze.
A vivid mory surged through my mind like ice-cold water.
That bitch.
She sliced my throat open.
My fingers trembled as they hovered over my neck. No, it couldn’t be... right?
Did I die again?
I forced myself to look around. It wasn’t the office. It wasn’t the train. This ti, it was... an infirmary.
Did the respawn point change again?
A deep, sinking dread settled in my chest.
Nothing terrified more than the thought of repeating the sa scenario. Again. And again. And again.
I clutched my head, my fingers digging into my scalp.
Then I felt it—
Soft fabric wrapped around my throat.
"...Bandages?" I mumbled, tracing the smooth material.
That ant...
I didn’t return this ti.
A wave of relief washed over , but only for a mont.
What about the assassin?
Blurry fragnts of mory resurfaced—
A figure.
A man dressed in white... yellow swaying hair...
His presence stirred sothing in the back of my mind, a connection I couldn’t fully grasp.
"Hmm..." I exhaled, closing my eyes.
For a second, just a fleeting second, I thought that after all of this...
Maybe... just maybe... I had finally returned ho.
But no.
I was still here.
I pushed the thoughts aside. I had already wasted too much ti lingering on useless hope.
Then—
A soft chi.
A translucent golden screen flickered into existence before .
A status window.
Sothing I had expected? Probably.
In a romance ga? Not really.
[View Character Profile?]
The words hovered in the air, awaiting my response.
I hesitated before reaching out. My fingers passed through the screen like mist, yet the text remained.
In my past life, I played my fair share of RPGs, most of them action-based. Even if I wasn’t a hardcore player, I was familiar enough with status windows and character builds.
But the more I lived through this...
The more I questioned if this was really a romance fantasy ga.
As if responding to my thoughts, the screen changed.
A new set of information filled my vision.
『Character Profile』
Na: Noel Saint Grenn
Gender: Male
Age: 28
「Titles:
Imperial Security Departnt Treasury Manager
Senior Professor
Lout of Iron Deeds」
「Abilities:
First Law (Light)
Authority – Prismatic Armant [See More]」
「Character Setting:
Dark Romance Fantasy 」
「Traits:
Perfectionist: ticulous to a fault, unwilling to tolerate incompetence.
Refined Fashion Sense: Dresses impeccably, even in the face of death.
Feared Noble: Commands silent authority, a na whispered rather than spoken aloud.
Calm Deanor: Rarely loses composure, unnerving even in dire situations.
Improviser: Adapts quickly, turning even the worst odds in his favor.」
「Flaws:
Workaholic: Would rather die at his desk than rest (which... might happen).
Terminally Ill: Not just an emotional weakness—his body is failing him.
Sarcastic as Hell: Can’t resist making sharp remarks, even in life-or-death scenarios.
Suspicious of Everything: Paranoia is second nature. Trust? What’s that?
Luck is a Myth: Has the uncanny ability to land in the worst possible situations.」
「Limitations:
Terminal Illness」
---
I sighed.
A lot of information appeared on the status window, but my attention was imdiately drawn to the Abilities section.
In this world, Laws were the foundation from which Authorities were derived. Those capable of manipulating these Authorities were known as Authority Users.
And mine was—
Prismatic Armant, drawn from the First Law: Light.
"The light glass blades..." I muttered under my breath.
Curious, I tapped on the [See More] section under my Authority.
『The Clear Glass Blessing – Prismatic Armant』
「A manifestation of the First Law: Light, this ability grants the user control over mana and light, allowing them to forge crystalline glass-like blades at will. These weapons, made entirely of condensed mana, can be controlled individually or as a swarm.
They can be summoned, reshaped, and manipulated remotely through telekinesis, making them versatile for both offensive and defensive purposes. The stronger the user’s connection to their mana, the more precise and nurous the blades beco.」
I read through the explanation, and suddenly, mories flashed through my mind.
The battle with Sasha.
The mont I materialized the glass blades in that desperate struggle.
They rained down like divine judgnt—unstoppable, absolute.
I didn’t even think.
It just happened, like my body instinctively knew how to wield this power. Like my innate will to survive had taken over.
"But I thought this body couldn’t use mana..." I frowned. "Is there sothing I’m missing?"
My mories were still fragnted, like trying to put together a shattered mirror. The gaps were frustrating, but I knew I had no choice but to be patient.
And more than anything—I wouldn’t lose myself in this body.
I was still Ju-won.
Overworked civil servant bastard from Earth.
"...Sigh. Not much of a difference either way," I muttered dryly.
I moved down to the Character Setting section.
So of the traits made sense. Others...
Well, others just made it obvious the ga devs were throwing whatever the hell they could into the character’s backstory.
Perfectionist. Fair enough.
Refined Fashion Sense. Not bad.
Feared Noble. A bit dramatic, but okay.
Calm Deanor. Useful.
Improviser. Definitely a lifesaver.
But then—
Workaholic. ...Why am I not surprised?
Sarcastic as Hell. So this is just a personal attack now?
Luck is a Myth.Oh, fantastic.
Suspicious of Everything.
I scowled. "Seriously, was the character designer just bored or did they really want to make this guy suffer?"
Even with the inconsistencies, it still gave a clearer picture of the body I now inhabited.
And if I was going to live and survive in this world...
I needed to understand everything about it.
Then my eyes fell on the Limitations section.
And there it was.
The Terminal Illness.
I tapped on it, and another screen expanded.
『Mana Overflow Syndro – The Blessing and the Curse 』
「The Disease: Body absorbs and produces an abnormally high amount of mana. However, the veins and mana circuits are too fragile to handle it. This leads to internal damage, chronic pain, and mana leaks, which—if left unchecked—will eventually lead to death. 」
「Strain of Prismatic Armant:
Channeling mana into his blades worsens the condition, as the weapons directly draw from his unstable mana reserves.
Overuse leads to severe symptoms such as:
Vomiting blood
Fainting
Mana burns」
"Oh... so that’s the terminal illness..." I murmured.
I exhaled sharply, shaking my head.
"...Hey, look, Hana... we aren’t that different, see?"
I forced a smile as I whispered to myself.
But it didn’t last.
A sharp pain throbbed in my chest as I thought of my sister.
Hana.
The illness that took her away...
The fact that I wasn’t even there when she—
I clenched my jaw and slamd my fist into the wall behind , the impact sending a dull ache up my arm.
I bit my lip so hard I tasted iron.
It didn’t matter.
She was gone.
And I was here.
I forced myself to relax, taking a slow breath. Then, as if speaking to no one in particular, I asked:
"How long until this illness kills ?"
The screen remained unresponsive.
No answer.
Of course.
I was living on borrowed ti after all.
My gaze drifted back to the profile screen, stopping at sothing else—
「Character Setting: Dark RoFan.」
"...What does that an?"
There wasn’t much written under it.
「Dark Romance Fantasy 」—I assud it ant this wasn’t just your typical flowery romance ga. But it still felt too vague.
Before I could think further, the infirmary door swung open.
I tensed instinctively.
The person who stepped inside—
I wasn’t expecting at all.
A woman.
Red hair.
Blue eyes.
Stunning. Beautiful in every possible way.
She smiled.
"Hey, Noel... welco back."
Phoebe Saint Pierremont.
"..."
Her voice was softer than I rembered. More controlled.
I straightened up on the infirmary bed, resting my arm over my knee.
Silence stretched between us.
Phoebe had always been the reserved type, much like . She was known for her sharp intuition, her calculated speech. But in the void of silence, she was the one trying to keep things going.
"You’ve been out for a while," she said, stepping further in. "The departnt’s been a ss without you."
She exhaled softly, like she had expected that answer. "Still... it’s good that you’re back."
I leaned back against the bedfra.
Another pause. Neither of us seed to know how to navigate this conversation.
My thoughts drifted back—far back—to the mont I woke up in this body, to the many tis I died trying to save the Obsidian, and to the woman standing before now.
Phoebe Saint Pierremont had killed more tis than I could count.
The mory of it was carved into my bones—the suffocating pain, the way my life was ripped away again and again.
It wasn’t intentional. I knew that now.
It was Sasha’s doing.
Her authority—whatever it was called—manipulated emotions, twisted them into sothing all-consuming. Love. But not the conventional kind. Love was a spectrum. It wasn’t just devotion or affection; it was obsession, hatred, regret. All emotions rooted in so form of love.
In Phoebe’s case, love had turned into devastation.
She must have arrived at the Obsidian after Sasha’s massacre, after the corpses were already cold. And when she saw —standing in the wreckage, the last one alive—her emotions must have snapped into place.
She had thought I was the one who killed them.
"I don’t know why I fell for a man like you."
I had heard those words before. Over and over again.
The original Noel and Phoebe... they were close.
But I doubted Noel had ever reciprocated her feelings.
He had just gotten out of a failed engagent.
He probably didn’t care about what she felt.
Thinking about it now, it wasn’t just Noel who was shaken.
It was Ju-won.
The Ju-won who had never experienced sothing like this before.
I, who couldn’t overlook the fact that the woman standing in front of him was a crazy talented individual who had cut down rcilessly, even if she had been under the influence of an Authority.
Would I be able to face her if we fought again? Would I be able to overco her?
I forced my thoughts back to the present.
Noticing my silence, Phoebe finally spoke again. "An assassin infiltrated the Obsidian," she said.
"No one was hurt... aside from you," she continued.
My grip tightened over the blanket.
"That can’t be right," I muttered.
Sasha had killed everyone. I had seen it with my own eyes. She had reached my office and slaughtered the last survivors— and Claire in the many loops I had taken.
How could there have been survivors?
Phoebe glanced at . "Sir Redwyne intervened again. If it weren’t for him, you’d be dead."
Sir Redwyne. That na sounded even more familiar...just couldn’t wrap my head around it.
"...What about that woman?"
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Phoebe hesitated. "According to Sir Redwyne, she was a fake...probably made through re-animation Authority."
A fake?
So all this ti, I had been fighting a puppet?
Physically, ntally—I had been struggling against sothing that wasn’t even real. I hadn’t been able to overco it, not even once.
A bitter laugh almost escaped . The feeling that spread through was worse than frustration. It was helplessness.
"Wretched Faith," Phoebe continued, unaware of the storm raging in my head.
"A faction ford by unknown individuals. Their disciples follow the Wretched Ones."
A cult that was devised by the 7 powerful witches that led to a war over 300 years ago.
"The Wretched Faith’s sole purpose is to overthrow the empire. They impersonate the Witches—even though it’s considered a curse and a violation of their belief. This ti, it seems they sent a marionette to attack the Imperial Security Departnt. If they weakened it, they’d weaken the empire’s forces too."
"Thank the Saints no one was hurt," she added.
"You were able to contain her long enough."
I clenched my fists against the blanket.
Thank the Saints?
Thank the fucking Saints?
I had died. Over and over. Blood had spilled—mine, others’. The pain, the suffering, the absolute despair of it all.
And yet, the way she described it was as if everything had been nothing but sunshine and rainbows. The cliche where the protag saves the day without spilling a drop of blood.
Did they even know what I had seen? What I had gone through?
My teeth ground together. Even if I tried to explain. Even if I tried to tell them—
I can return back in ti upon death.
The mont I thought those words, everything paused. My mouth wouldn’t open. My throat locked. The fucking ga—didn’t let speak it aloud.
I steadied myself.
When I glanced up, Phoebe was watching , concern evident in her expression.
"Are you okay?"
I forced myself to relax. A smile crept onto my lips, hollow but convincing.
"Yeah. Just glad everyone’s okay."
Phoebe studied for a mont longer before sighing.
"The faction is always being hunted, so you don’t have to worry too much."
She straightened.
"Actually, I ca here for sothing else. The departnt wanted to welco you back. And..."
She hesitated before continuing, "...so important figures and prestigious houses will be attending soon."
A party. For .
"For your return from the military," she clarified, "and for the many deeds you’ve accomplished in such a short span. Consider this your official invitation."
I stayed silent.
Phoebe gave a small smile. "I missed you... we all missed you, Noel."
And then, she turned and left.
Before she exited, a familiar chi echoed in my head.
[View This Character’s Profile?]
I stared at the system window as it unfolded before .
『Character Profile 』
Na: Phoebe Saint Pierremont
Gender: Female
Age: 30
「Character Setting
-Romance Fantasy」
"..."
I stiffened.
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