What If I Made the Witch of Destruction my Fiancée? She's Nothing but Cute, Right? - Chapter 1

“This place… this location…!”

Before his eyes was a familiar ceiling. The wooden ceiling had several stains, one of which looked like a human face. He knew that unsettling face, which had terrified him as a child… it was the ceiling of the former Volcan Ducal Residence where he used to live.

“Have I returned… truly?”

When Mars sat up, he found himself in a familiar room. The Grosslay Kingdom. The Volcan Ducal Territory. It was Mars’s room in the Lord’s mansion. The room was dim. Sunlight barely filtered through the gap in the curtains. He opened the curtains to check… the sun was just beginning to peek over the eastern mountain.

“Ngh…!”

Mars was deeply moved and gasped. Tears welled up in both eyes. This view from the window—the mansion standing on the hill, the surrounding forest, and the towns visible beyond. There was no mistake. It was the landscape of his hometown, which he had thought he would never see again.

“Saint Aria Crepuscule. My deepest gratitude to you…!”

He had returned. He could start over. He had been given the chance to reclaim his homeland, which had once been ravaged and burned by the Witch.

“This time, I will absolutely protect it. I swear it…!”

Tears streaming down his face, Mars spoke a vow of determination. The homeland annihilated by the ‘Witch of Final Hell.’ The nation destroyed. The lives of the people lost. He would not let the same tragedy repeat itself. He swore in his heart that he would protect everything, no matter what means he had to use.

“To do that, I must first assess the current situation…”

Forcing himself to suppress the torrent of tears, Mars walked over to the desk in a corner of the room. He opened a drawer and took out a diary. It was a habit he had maintained since childhood.

“The last date recorded is… exactly ten years ago. When I was fifteen years old, then.”

Ten years ago. This was five years before the ‘Witch of Final Hell’ appeared and the kingdom was destroyed. He scanned the entries, which were written mechanically, almost like a report, retrieving memories one by one.

“That’s right… the harvest was going to drop this year due to the drought…”

“Hmm…” He stroked his chin and hummed. He had to avoid the calamity of the ‘Witch of Final Hell,’ of course, but there might be other misfortunes he could prevent as well. Having knowledge of the future meant just that. Not only could he avert tragedy, but if used correctly, he could even gain advantages.

“But I cannot use the Saint’s grace for wicked deeds. For now, regarding the drought, I must prepare…”

“Excuse me. Young Master, are you awake?”

The door to the room was knocked upon, and a young man entered. He came in without waiting for a reply because they were close and familiar with each other.

“I have brought your breakfast. It’s your favorite berry sandwich this morning.”

“Eric…!”

It was a young man in a butler’s uniform. He was about the same age as Mars, with short-cut, soft-looking brown hair. This was Eric, Mars’s exclusive butler and foster brother.

“Eric, you…!”

He was alive… again, tears of emotion welled up. However, the warnings from Aria and his comrades immediately came back to him.

(I mustn’t… I mustn’t tell him that I’ve come from the future…!)

“Hmph!”

To suppress the impulse to cry, Mars punched himself hard in the face. One blow wasn’t enough, so he struck his face two or three more times.

“Eh!? Wait… Young Master, what are you doing!?”

“No problem.”

“There is a problem! You’re bleeding from the nose!”

“It’s no problem… I’m fine. This will stop quickly.”

After punching himself one more time, he took a deep breath. Not being able to tell anyone that he had returned from the future was proving to be unexpectedly difficult. Mars was also bound by the constraint that he ‘cannot tell lies,’ so he couldn’t even brush it off with a poor excuse.

“A-are you really… alright?”

“Yes, no problem.”

“S-suddenly punching yourself seems like a huge problem, though…”

“Pay it no mind. Rather, please place the meal on the table.”

“H-huh?”

Eric, perplexed, began arranging the breakfast on the table.

“Um, this morning we have a berry sandwich, Napple tea, and scrambled eggs…”

“Hnnh!”

“YOUNG MASTER!?”

Mars punched himself again. He had been so moved by the food prepared by the familiar chef that he nearly started crying once more.

“No problem…!”

“There IS a problem! What in the world is wrong with you!?”

To his intensely confused childhood friend and butler, Mars, unable to lie, simply repeated the phrase, “No problem.”