Game World

“I’m gonna die of anger!”

Back in her room after the ball, Elia threw a full-blown tantrum on her bed.
Sure, she’d decided to punish that clueless jerk of a Hero, but that was for later.
Right now, she still had to swallow her frustration.

“Damn it! In eight years since transmigrating, this is the first time I’ve suffered such an insult!”

As Luke had gleaned from her thoughts, Elia was sixteen this year.
She had originally been a man from Earth, transported to this world eight years ago.

There was no Goddess summoning her, no system, no wise old mentor.
The moment she arrived, she soul-possessed the body of the original Elia, who had just been assassinated.

Fortunately, soul transmigration allowed her to access fragments of the original owner’s memories, instantly solving issues of language and identity.
At the same time, she realized she had crossed into a Japanese RPG she’d once played.
The factions, the Demon King, the Heroes, the Saintesses—every detail of the world matched the game exactly.

Yet she wasn’t the male protagonist, the female protagonist, a side character, or even a villain.
None of those characters existed in her social circle.
She was less than a passerby—a literal background NPC.

If that were all, it wouldn’t be so bad.
Her inherited identity was at least that of an apprentice Saintess.
If not luxurious, she was guaranteed food and shelter.

But the game’s plot was extremely dangerous.
Elia vividly remembered that once the game’s heroine appeared, the Demon King’s army would go on a rampage.

Seventy percent of the continent would fall into peril, and hordes of Saintesses and Heroes would die like fodder.
Even the strongest Hero King, renowned sword-and-shield Heroes, or the Seven Saintesses were not exempt.

Elia had no intention of waiting around to die.
With foreknowledge of the plot, she quickly devised her plan: “A wise man survives by lying low in chaotic times.”

The solution was simple—become one of the seven candidates for Great Saintess.
Don’t misunderstand. She wasn’t volunteering to die, nor did she plan to become a Great Saintess and save the world.

Fighting and killing were far too terrifying.
As a Great Saintess, she’d eventually face the Demon King—the one that, even at level 99 in the game, required dozens of save-loads to beat.
Such a heavenly burden was best left to the game’s main cast.

As for her goal, yes, the Seven Saintesses weren’t guaranteed absolute safety, but only three of the seven died.
If she could become one of the four survivors, that was enough.

Why not slack off as a nobody?

Simple.

The game never mentioned the fate of random NPCs. Their futures were unpredictable.
Replacing a known side character who was confirmed to survive was undoubtedly the safer choice.

But too famous a side character? No thanks.
The game had plenty of BAD END routes where side characters died.

She couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t mess up.
Moreover, even if the original story didn’t kill them off, interacting with the protagonists as a transmigrator was inherently risky.
If she altered the story and the Demon King wasn’t defeated, humanity would be doomed.
She couldn’t bear that responsibility.

So, after careful selection, Elia targeted the least prominent of the Seven Saintesses—one from the southern continent, far from the main plot, mentioned only in passing by major characters, yet confirmed to survive until the end.
After five years of effort, she surpassed the original Saintess and secured her spot among the seven candidates.

In the game, this Saintess never left the Kingdom of Messiah.
The only dangers in her backstory were minor incursions from nearby Demon King forces.

Thus, even without Luke’s rudeness, Elia would never adventure with him.
Staying in the kingdom, slacking off, driving the Hero away, and teaching this blind fool a lesson—these three goals aligned perfectly.
Having lived a pampered life adored by all, how could Elia swallow this slight?

The problem was her carefully crafted public image: a pure, kind, and holy Saintess.
Actively seducing someone was out of the question.

That left her with no choice but to wait for him to come to her…
Handing the initiative to her opponent made Elia more and more irritated the longer she thought about it.

“A super invincible beauty like me—loved by all, blooming flowers wherever I go, a candidate for Great Saintess—actually stressing over some stinking man for this long? I’m furious!”

Elia thrashed about in another fit of rage.

Just then, a knock came from the door.
“Lady Elia, may I come in?”

Five seconds—no, less than three—and Elia had already tidied her disheveled appearance, dress, and bed from her tantrum.
Adjusting her expression and posture, she sat gracefully on the edge of the bed like a smiling Mona Lisa and said softly:
“Please, come in.”

The door opened, and a golden-haired elf maiden entered—Elia’s personal maid, Iris.

Beyond Iris, Elia had dozens of maids and over a hundred guards at her command, plus dedicated chefs, coachmen, gardeners…
Her treatment surpassed that of a princess, rivaling the crown prince, despite having no royal blood.

A life of being waited on hand and foot, cared for at every moment…
Even without the Demon King’s threat, Elia was certain no one would be foolish enough to abandon this dreamlike existence to go adventuring and sleeping rough.

[‘I don’t know what His Majesty was thinking. He said he’d treat me like his own daughter, then turned around and sold me off… So unfair!’]

Complaints aside, Elia knew her luxurious lifestyle was provided by the Church of Holy Light and the Messiah royal family.
If she angered her patrons, even if she didn’t die, she’d end up like those poor apprentice Saintesses—forcing herself to join adventurer parties to scrape by, going days without a hot bath…

Thus, for years, to stay in Messiah and ensure everyone adored her too much to let her leave, she had meticulously played the perfect Saintess in public.
This facade never dropped, not even in front of her closest confidante, Iris.

“Lady Elia, how did your meeting with Lord Hero go today?”
Iris asked, naturally sitting beside her.

Iris was her most trusted confidante, so they could discuss more freely.
Elia didn’t need to be overly prim and proper; she could show a relatively natural expression…

As for the lightning-fast cleanup earlier?
No choice. They hadn’t started out close.
Elia couldn’t risk suddenly shattering the image she’d built in Iris’s mind after they grew close, so she kept up the act consistently.

But bringing up today’s events reignited the anger she’d barely suppressed.
Still, a compassionate Saintess couldn’t vent her frustrations in front of others.

Especially not in front of a golden-haired elf maid whose eyes sparkled with curiosity and anticipation.
Iris was perfect in every way, except for her love of gossip and hopeless romanticism.
She was always asking if Elia fancied someone or informing her that so-and-so had a crush on her. It was exhausting.

If Elia slipped up even slightly in answering about the Hero, the entire palace would know within days…
Wait.

A lightbulb went off in Elia’s mind, and excitement surged through her.
[‘That’s it! Why didn’t I think of this sooner? You’re done for, jerk Hero!’]

Outwardly, she lowered her head shyly and spoke in a dreamy, infatuated tone:
“Lord Luke is just as the rumors say—so handsome, so dashing, so manly. He’s incredibly polite and proper, yet charming and witty. His eyes are so beautiful, like sparkling obsidian, and his hair is so flowing and refreshing… Ah, he has so many good qualities, I don’t even know where to begin.”

Iris’s expression gradually darkened.