The one who had cursed Elodie had abandoned her in Terranolia, the land of humans.
The curse had turned her into a real mouse, even shortening her lifespan to match.
In other words, the only way to break the curse was for a human to truly love a mouse and kiss it before her ti ran out.
That was just a death sentence.
No, it was even worse than that.
What kind of human could ever truly love a mouse?
What kind of human would ever press their lips against a creature considered nothing more than a filthy pest?
They might as well have just killed her outright.
Instead, they had forced her to cling to an impossible hope, leading her to die in despair.
Even a demon would have found this cruel.
Did my parents keep searching for , waiting endlessly even after I died?
A deep, deliberate malice radiated from this sche.
They had gone out of their way to make sure she suffered.
Even the decision to turn her into a real mouse…
That was intentional too.
Even as a High Priest family, Ratson was still nothing more than a clan of rats.
They had wanted to mock them.
"Look at your daughter—no divine salvation, no helping hand. Just a filthy, dying pest!"
That must have been their intent.
Not killing outright was an undeniable mistake.
They had placed a curse over the entire Ratson family and still left its only heir alive.
They had already won, and yet, out of their own arrogance, they had set a trap for themselves.
The culprit had known that, and yet, they hadn’t been able to resist their need to ridicule.
Maybe they had a personal grudge against Ratson.
Or perhaps… deep-seated inferiority.
Either way, their resentnt was unmistakable.
Even if it hadn’t been the Basilisks, the culprit was almost certainly a beastfolk.
It was rare for a High Priest from another continent or species to hold such a specific, deep-seated grudge.
They never would have expected to return after my death.
And they never could have imagined that an actual, god-tier, angelic human existed—soone who would kiss a rat without hesitation.
Thanks to them, I survived.
Since I owe my life to your hatred—
I’ll make sure to return the favor.
Elodie silently vowed to cherish the miracles granted to her by the fairy godmother and Sera.
And then, she would make sure the culprit experienced every last ounce of the suffering they had inflicted.
***
“Then, I’ll be going now!”
“Chiiik—!”
“Chiiik, chiiing!”
“Chikchik!”
Elodie waved energetically at the bouncing harvest mice as they chirped their goodbyes.
“Chii-hik…”
“Dad, stop crying already. Co on.”
As Elodie soothed her father, who was openly weeping, the High Priestess of Ratson turned to Sera.
“Sera, is that what you call her?”
Since Sera couldn’t understand the language of the mice, Duke Valkyrisen translated for her.
“You saved my daughter. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”
“Oh, no! No, not at all,” Sera waved her hands frantically, her face turning red.
“Elodie helped first! And it’s not like I did anything special to break the curse. I don’t even rember doing anything that amazing…”
“So she’s being called Elodie.”
“Ah… I only gave her that na temporarily. I’m sorry for doing it without permission.”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
The High Priestess gently reassured the flustered Sera.
“If my daughter prefers to be called Elodie, then Elodie she is. In a way, you’ve given her a new life.”
Isn’t that right?
She turned to Elodie with a questioning smile.
Elodie was happy to know that in both her past and present life, she could still be Sera’s Elodie.
She nodded.
“Mm. I like it.”
But—
“My owi-ji-nal na is 'po-tant too. Tell . (My original na is important too. Tell .)”
The High Priestess looked at her fondly and smiled warmly.
“Gracia Ratson.”
It was an impossibly elegant, sacred-sounding na.
So my original na was Gracia.
Now she had not one, but two nas that weren’t just for a rat.
Gracia and Elodie.
She would treasure them both.
“Then, Sera, I leave my daughter in your care.”
“…! I’ll carry her around for the rest of my life.”
That’s unnecessary.
Elodie, now firmly trapped in Sera’s embrace, pouted.
And then—
“Elodie, take this with you.”
“Mm?”
The High Priest, who had been crying hard enough to dehydrate himself, sniffled and gestured behind him.
At his signal, the harvest mice heaved and struggled to carry a box adorned with jewels.
Elodie took the ornate box, and upon opening it—
“A man-ty? (A hamr?)”
“A Holy Hamr.”
It was a tiny hamr, no bigger than her palm.
Made of platinum, it was exquisitely crafted, so much so that it wouldn’t have looked out of place as a sacred relic for divine worship.
But… why a hamr?
“What do you do with this?”
“Only the heir of the Ratson bloodline can wield it.”
So the Ratson family’s divine power was…
A literal Holy Hamr?
But no matter how she looked at it, this thing didn’t seem capable of dealing any real damage.
Was it supposed to be strong?
“Is it okay to give this to already?”
“What good is it if I keep it?”
The High Priest trailed off, then gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
“No point in holding onto it when I won’t be needing it… and eventually, it has to be passed down to you anyway.”
Elodie gazed at her father with a complicated expression.
Dad, if you’re going to be that obvious, why not just admit that you’re cursed and can’t fulfill your duties as the High Priest?
But she was five years old.
A bright, innocent, five-year-old!
Elodie started self-conditioning.
Just act like you don’t know. Act like you don’t know…
“If you ever find yourself in danger, just strike the ground with it. It will lead you to safety.”
“So it’s not for hittin’ people?”
“…Why would that be your first thought? The power of the Ratson family is healing.”
Isn’t swinging a hamr the most natural thing to think of?
She had assud it was for aggressive treatnt.
You know—when dealing with incurable cases of stupidity.
Like a prince.
Or… a prince.
“Don’t have such violent thoughts. And never, under any circumstances, use it to hit people.”
“…”
“Elodie, do you hear ?”
“…Yesh.”
Elodie answered absentmindedly.
“So besides takin’ to safe places, what else does it do?”
Surely a relic passed down in a divine bloodline would have more abilities.
At that, the High Priest suddenly scrubbed his face with both hands.
With remarkable efficiency, his tears were erased in a single motion.
Then, in a solemn tone, he said:
“My child.”
With deadly seriousness.
“Never use it for anything other than escaping danger.”
…So that ans it does do sothing more powerful.
“You never know what will happen. Even Valkyrisen may not be safe forever. Take this in case the ti cos.”
Oh…
How’d he know?
Looking at House Valkyrisen now, its power and influence were at their peak.
People spoke of it as if it would bask in a thousand years of glory.
Did he sense sothing?
Well, considering he’s sending there so easily, he probably can’t see the exact future…
Maybe his rodent instincts were just unusually sharp.
“If that ti cos, promise you’ll run instead of doing anything reckless.”
“…”
“Promise.”
“…Okaay…”
He was handing her an object clearly brimming with extraordinary power…
And telling her to only use it to run away?
Elodie reluctantly agreed.
Good thing I never asked who cursed the Ratson family.
The mont she said those words aloud, they would never let her out of their sight.
They might even lock her up.
The Holy Hamr would probably be confiscated imdiately, too.
Not that asking would’ve helped, anyway.
If Ratson had known who their enemy was, they wouldn’t be sitting around doing nothing.
Even as mice, they were still the High Priest’s lineage—they would have sought help from the Emperor or allied with another noble house to retaliate.
But I ca from the future.
Which ant I already had a pri suspect.
Now all I had to do…
Was go to Valkyrisen and find out if I was right.
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