After Being Reborn, My Wife Sapped Away the Game's Female Lead - Chapter 1

August 31, 974 of the Magic Era.

“Did you hear? The demon army almost attacked us right here just a little while ago!”

“I heard, I heard! If it weren’t for the Saintess, everyone in places like ours near the front lines would probably be dead by now.”

Cynthia, passing by, coughed heavily and pulled her cloak a little tighter around herself.

The face hidden beneath the hood had lost its former radiance. Her lips were a sickly pale white, and her cheeks were sunken deeply, revealing the flush of a high fever beneath the pallor. Her brow furrowed involuntarily, and her dry, light-golden hair clung messily to her face.

Her illness was growing increasingly severe; right now, merely coming out to buy a little food exhausted every ounce of her strength.

Only her eyes, as clear and blue as the sky, still retained a trace of her aristocratic heritage.

She walked slowly along the roadside, carefully yet laboriously bypassing garbage, puddles, and even feces along the way. In such a remote town, neither the settlement nor the residents living within it were particularly clean.

Her dwelling was in an extremely remote, dilapidated cottage on the edge of town. Although there was no garbage piled outside the door, the walls were covered in various stains, and the corners emitted a suspicious odor.

Dragging her feet with difficulty as she entered her home, Cynthia carefully double-locked the door and leaned against the wall to catch her breath for a moment.

Two days ago, when she first fell ill, she had forgotten to lock the door, resulting in someone breaking in and stealing her money pouch. She had just used her very last bit of coins to buy food; if she still lacked the strength to go out and earn money after eating this, things would likely take a turn for the worst.

Only then did she place the food on the table, setting it alongside scrap paper filled with advanced magical knowledge and the quick-dispatch newspaper from the royal capital, Gauss.

The cottage was small in area. Aside from the door, there was only a small window that remained closed year-round. The room was dark, damp, and cluttered with various daily necessities.

The only places in the room fit for resting, other than a low wooden bed piled with a thin quilt, were the wobbly low-backed chair in front of the desk, which looked like it was about to fall apart at any moment, and all of them were piled high with miscellaneous items.

As a young lady of noble birth with little practical life experience, she could barely manage to keep her living environment from being exceptionally filthy, but tidying up clutter was simply beyond her capabilities.

“The once-only daughter, no, the eldest daughter of a Count,” Cynthia said with self-deprecating irony, her voice raspy and unpleasant, “to think I would ever reach a point where I worry about starving to death.”

Another violent fit of coughing wracked her body. A dry, cracking pain in her throat surged upward alongside the taste of blood. Pressing the back of her hand against her lips, she sighed softly, stating, “Forget it, what use is talking about this now.”

She dragged the mottled low-backed chair out from in front of the desk. With a piercing screech, the chair barely managed to steady itself in its new position.

After moving the pile of items off the chair and onto the desk, Cynthia let out a long breath. She walked around to the front of the chair and sat down. Just as she was about to pick up the bread in the bag to satisfy her hunger, she remembered that she hadn’t cleaned her hands after returning from outside.

This untimely aristocratic habit forced her to stand up once more.

Yet the moment Cynthia rose, sudden pitch-black darkness swept over her vision, accompanied by an unprecedented and intensely violent wave of dizziness.

Immediately afterward, she knew nothing more.

“In a kingdom named Gorgles, everyone possesses magic bestowed by the gods. The more favored a person is by the gods, the more powerful their magic will be.

However, every gift comes with a price.

The people of Gorgles must guard the gates of the Demon Realm for the gods; once the gates open, the human world will cease to exist.

Before this disaster arrives, you descend as the savior Saintess, bearing a divine oracle.

The Saintess is brave, sincere, full of gentleness toward others yet possessing unyielding dignity. Most importantly, she embodies the noble spirit of self-sacrifice for the sake of others.

You may fulfill your duty to save the world, enjoying boundless earthly wealth and the adoration of the people.

You may also cast off your responsibilities and drift away, seeking the meaning of life within the embrace of nature.

If you wish, you can even become someone you could never possibly have been otherwise.

The fate of this world rests in your hands.”

Promotional text for an otome game in another world

When Cynthia opened her eyes once again, her mind was still lingering on the bread she hadn’t managed to eat.

Yet when she sat up, she discovered she was no longer in that dark, damp, dilapidated cottage. Instead, she had returned to the home where she had lived since childhood, the Count Coton Estate, located in the royal capital, Gauss.

Cynthia looked around in a daze and bewilderment at everything: the heavy, gorgeous embroidered bed curtains, the light, warm velvet quilt, the sturdy and heavy high-end wooden furniture and flooring, and that spacious, bright, large glass window.

All of this was so deeply familiar to her, yet it also felt deeply estranged.

“What is this?” she murmured to herself, still tinged with self-mockery. “Did my illegitimate younger brother finally grow tired of his mother’s pleas and bring me back for medical treatment? Or did our merciful, magnanimous Saintess finally pardon my various sins?”

“How could that be? Father gave up his title, and Carlo is dead. Wouldn’t they all prefer that I died sooner rather than later?”

Even so, she couldn’t help climbing out of bed, her bare feet pressing against the soft wooden floorboards, reaching out to touch the items that had accompanied her for so long one by one.

Cynthia remembered buying these bed curtains from a foreign merchant when she was fifteen years old; she had always adored this fiery color and the exotic patterns woven upon them.

The ivory comb resting in front of the vanity table was a tenth-birthday gift from her father.

As for the large dolls tucked in the corner, the lion and the little puppy had been keeping her company ever since she could remember.

The sound of the door opening snapped Cynthia back from her memories. A young, medium-height girl with brown hair walked in from outside.

Upon entering and seeing Cynthia standing barefoot on the floor, the girl let out an immediate shriek: “Milady! Where are your shoes?”

Cynthia stared at her in a daze, asking, “Ella?”

“What will you do if you catch a cold?” Ella bustled over to the bed to fetch shoes for Cynthia to put on, chattering continuously as she worked. “If you fall ill at a time like this, you won’t just miss the welcoming ceremony for the Saintess, you’ll also delay your enrollment.”

Cynthia finally regained her senses, asking, “You said what? The Saintess?”

“Yes, the Saintess is going to be welcomed into the royal capital tomorrow.” Ella helped Cynthia straighten the hem of her nightgown before standing up. “You’ll be standing right beside His Highness the Prince at that time.”

Yet, wasn’t the Saintess entering the royal capital something that happened a year ago?

That woman named Betty had firmly captured the gaze of Prince Mita, Cynthia’s nominal fiancé, ever since she entered the capital.

Later on, in order to be with the Saintess, Mita even went so far as to frame his own fiancée, all for the sake of annulling their engagement.

Even then, they felt it wasn’t enough. Fearing that Cynthia might inherit the title and seek revenge, they dug up the Count Coton’s illegitimate son. They coerced the Count into banishing the original heir, Cynthia, and replacing her with the illegitimate son.

Meanwhile, her cousin Carlo, with whom Cynthia shared the closest bond, had been infected by demonic miasma and transformed into a monster during the ensuing demon war.

It was said that Prince Mita, who shared the closest relationship with him, personally struck the blow that killed him.

The very last piece of news Cynthia received before falling terminally ill was that Lillika, a young woman who had grown up as childhood sweethearts with Carlo, had joined the military in the guise of a man to avenge Carlo, heading straight to the front lines to participate in the combat.

Cynthia confirmed once more, “Ella, the Saintess arrives tomorrow, is that right?”

“Yes, Milady.”

“What is today’s date?”

“August 24th, Milady.”

“August 24th, 974.”

Ella looked puzzled, but still nodded: “Yes, Milady.”

Cynthia turned around and walked over to the vanity table, gazing at the figure reflected in the mirror.

The person in the mirror looked to be in exceptional condition.

Her long golden hair draped smoothly over her shoulders, curling slightly only at the very ends.

Her blue eyes, as clear as the sky, were bright and sharp, shielded by light-colored eyelashes like a pair of miniature fans.

Her skin, white as milk, radiated a healthy blush.

Her lips were as gorgeous and hydrated as rose petals.

No one would ever imagine that such a stunning young girl could ever turn into that emaciated, withered appearance.

The corners of Cynthia’s mouth curled upward. Though she had no idea what had happened, since the gods had granted her a chance to start over.

Betty, and Mita.

Even if you are the Saintess chosen by the gods, even if you are the prince destined to inherit the nation.

The humiliation you forced upon me in our past life, let me return it to you one by one.

“Ella,” Cynthia’s voice was light and breezy, “tell Carlo for me that I will be visiting him shortly, and I hope we can share lunch together.”

“Yes, Milady.”

Three hours later, Cynthia arrived at the Wilson family’s country estate.

Ella held a parasol over her to block the scorching summer sun, looking both distressed and perplexed: “Milady, why were you in such a rush to come here? Young Master Carlo will be attending the welcoming ceremony tomorrow anyway, you would have seen him then just as well.”

Lifting the heavy layers of her skirt, Cynthia stepped down from the carriage, every gesture and movement the epitome of aristocratic decorum.

She did not answer Ella’s question, instead speaking directly to the butler waiting by the estate’s entrance: “Take me to see Carlo.”

“Very well, Lady Cynthia. Young Master is currently practicing swordsmanship out back, please follow me.”

Cynthia followed the butler through the estate, walking from the paved stone path of the garden onto a dirt road, until she finally spotted Carlo sparring with someone else.

Right as Carlo was hit squarely across the body by the other person’s great sword and sent flying directly through the air.

Lying on the ground, Carlo turned his head and spotted the newcomer the moment he landed: “Cynthia? Why are you here?”

Cynthia raised her chin slightly at the butler, signaling him to help Carlo up, and then said, “I came to check on you. Seeing that you’re completely well puts my mind at ease.”

“Don’t tease me,” Carlo said, rising with the butler’s assistance before pointing toward the training ground where he had just been knocked away. “You’ve come just in time, Li… huh? Where did they go?”

Cynthia followed the direction of his finger, only to find that the person who had been sparring with him just moments before had already vanished without a trace.