Two days.
Exactly two days had passed since I stood under that chandelier-filled cathedral dome, surrounded by curious nobles and whispering socialites, announcing my departure from the Imperial Security Department.
I'd meant what I said—I wasn't the kind of man to speak in riddles when it came to decisions that could alter my life.
But then again… this world had a funny way of complicating even the simplest of things.
Especially when the Minister of the ISD summoned me the very next morning.
His office was like a mausoleum carved from obsidian—quiet, cold, yet strangely dignified.
A wide desk made from redwood sat between us, layered with papers, mana-coded reports.
Books lined the towering walls behind him.
And then there he was—Minister Vareon, the man with silver-streaked black hair, sharp gray eyes, and a face that looked carved from winter itself.
I was ready for resistance.
Anger.
Maybe even a threat or two.
But instead...
He gestured to the seat before him.
"Sit, Noel."
I did.
And what followed… wasn't the scolding I expected.
"I read your resignation," he said, folding his fingers in front of him.
"I'd be lying if I said I was pleased."
I stayed silent.
He sighed.
Actually sighed.
Was that disappointment?
Regret?
"But… I understand," he continued.
"Still, I can't allow you to vanish completely from the department."
"Minister—"
"No. Let me finish."
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table.
"There are assignments—delicate ones—across multiple branches that I can't entrust to anyone else.
Your reputation, for better or worse, is feared. That's a useful weapon.
More than that, your analytical reports, handling of treasury reform, and knowledge of the faction hierarchy… it's invaluable."
He stared at me.
Cold eyes softening just slightly.
"If I can't keep you full-time… then work part-time.
Or work remotely.
From the Academy, if you must. I'll have our teams adjust."
That… caught me off guard.
This was Minister Vareon, not some desperate count looking to cling to a scandal-ridden noble.
He was known for firing managers like cutting weeds.
And yet… here he was.
Practically pampering me.
Why?
I hesitated.
My fingers tapped softly against my cane as I collected my thoughts.
The Wretched Faith Faction, their twisted ideology, the deaths I'd suffered… dying in this world wasn't just pain—it was regression, it was unraveling.
No matter how I tried to separate myself from Noel's fate, the truth was always circling back:
This character I now embodied lived inside a [Dark Romance Fantasy] setting.
And based on everything I'd seen so far… I was the only one cursed with it.
Everyone else—from the cadets to my own supposed father —seemed to live their lives inside lighter scripts.
Gale's was marked as [Romance Fantasy] despite being a war-hardened Holy Knight. Which meant…
…any government-affiliated position I held could potentially anchor me to fate.
Keep me alive longer.
If I left everything and severed all ties?
I'd be exposed.
And I wasn't suicidal.
So, I sighed.
Looked the Minister in the eye.
And said, "I'll consider staying part-time. With conditions."
He raised a brow.
"I'm listening."
'I'd need access to full research funding. The former Noel's projects weren't vanity. There's a theories I intend to pursue. And the Imperial Academy's budget won't sustain it.'
I inwardly thought, but the minister read me like an open book.
"Cost?" he asked, already preparing for damage.
I leaned back slightly.
"High. I need a direct monthly stipend from the ISD treasury."
The silence that followed was long and heavy. Vareon's eyes didn't leave mine for a second.
Then I smiled faintly and added, "Of course… in exchange, I'll continue my duties across Treasury and Intelligence. Even Security detail if need be. And should you require… personal tasks, Minister—I'll see to those as well."
A long pause.
His lips twitched. Just slightly.
"You're a snake," he said.
I tilted my head, unbothered. "So are you."
He chuckled. He actually chuckled.
It sounded dry—like paper catching fire—but it was genuine.
Then he stood.
"Well played," he said, extending a hand.
"But you'll attend directly to my calls. No dodging. No intermediaries."
I took his hand and shook it firmly.
"As long as the funds come in timely, I'm your lackey."
It was hard to tell whether I had manipulated him… or whether he had countered every move I made and entwined me into his own trap.
But either way, I was fine with it.
More funds meant my projects could move forward.
More positions meant survival.
Even if it meant playing puppet for a man like Vareon.
Still… I could only hope that his "personal tasks" for the Empire weren't going to be too tedious or painfully annoying.
Because being his lackey?
I had the feeling it was going to pull me into situations far bigger than coin or comfort.
And yet… as I walked out of his office with the confirmation letter in hand, I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips.
That aside…
I was able to return to the Saint Grenn household and stay for a night.
It had been a while.
The estate was large—grand, even, with its dark ivy-covered towers, immaculate stone paths, and the signature crimson banners swaying gently at each pillar. But despite the scale and wealth the house held, the place was… quiet. Too quiet.
It made sense.
The patriarch—my father—only had three children. Just three.
That was intentional.
Unlike most noble households that bred heirs like soldiers on a chessboard—ten, sometimes even fifteen, each positioned for marriage, war, or politics—my father chose a different path.
He cherished only three.
Maybe it was foresight. Or maybe it was fear. He didn't want rivalry—didn't want his bloodline to be torn apart by infighting, or siblings assassinating each other in pursuit of succession.
We had all agreed to his approach. Quietly. Almost instinctively.
And it worked.
The original Noel, the one whose body I now occupied… he had naturally distanced himself from the idea of inheritance. Spent more time being an instructor and a civil servant than meddling with the politics of the household.
He had the brains for it—finance, administration, governance—he could've run the estate with his eyes closed, one hand holding a cup of tea and the other flipping through ministry files.
But I figured he stepped down willingly.
Not because he lacked interest.
But because he wanted to live longer.
If his terminal illness didn't kill him… the backstabbing and political drama from running a noble house certainly would.
My little brother couldn't care less. He was too invested in his studies, always nose-deep in books.
Which left only one person suited—and willing—to take the seat.
Natalie Saint Grenn.
My sister.
She was built for it—sharp, graceful, terrifying in a room full of dukes, and precise like a dagger in velvet. Everything fell into place. She took over seamlessly, and even Father approved.
That night… I returned to the estate.
It felt surreal stepping through those familiar halls, marble tiles echoing underfoot, the distant hum of magic lanterns lighting the path. But my siblings weren't home.
I figured Natalie was likely working late at the Imperial Ministry of Justice—her second home.
The staff greeted me with bows and polite smiles.
And I headed to my room. A place I hadn't stepped foot into in three years.
It was cold.
Not emotionally—but literally cold.
The air carried a slight chill, the kind that lingered in rooms no longer lived in.
Still… it had been maintained. Dusted. Swept. Preserved.
They had kept it clean. I was grateful.
My eyes moved to the wide desk near the corner window, papers stacked neatly, like someone had been organizing them for my eventual return. I walked over, running my fingers along the smooth surface before picking them up.
Official documents.
Correspondences.
Medical notes.
...And then—
A thin folder. Different parchment.
Divorce papers?
No—not quite.
More like a marriage being called off.
The air in my lungs caught slightly.
Beside the papers, I saw a small, ornate white ring box.
I paused.
It was delicate, carefully placed—like whoever left it there had done so with hesitation. Or sorrow.
I opened it.
Inside was a ring. Silver-white with a pale blue gem, simple and beautiful.
I picked it up.
Slid it onto my finger slowly.
Held up my hand, fingers spread, letting the moonlight hit the gem.
"This was the ring she got him…" I muttered.
I wasn't talking about myself.
I was talking about him.
The original Noel.
Three years ago…
I could feel it—not just from the ring, but from the faint memory etched into the marrow of this body.
A soft voice.
Fleeting touches.
Something that ended before it began.
I walked over to the tall window and stared out into the estate garden, the moon hanging pale and alone in the sky. Its light washed over everything in quiet silver.
And I realized then… I needed to change. Drastically.
If I was truly going to counter death… if I was going to survive this wretched curse of dying and returning over and over again…
Then I needed to start by cutting off death's variables.
And the first of those…
Were the people close to me.
Loved ones. Friends. Anyone emotionally tied to me.
They were always the reason behind tragedy in these stories. Behind betrayal. Behind sacrifice.
I couldn't have that. Not anymore.
But that didn't mean shutting them out.
No—I'd fix what Noel had broken.
Mend relationships. Correct the past.
But not get too close.
At least… not until I understood how far fate would go to toy with me.
And to do that… I needed knowledge. Real, raw knowledge of this world.
More of Noel's memories had to return.
That's why I hadn't truly resigned from the Imperial Security Department—not fully.
That was just a front, a performance to throw off the press and watchful eyes.
Because most of the answers I sought… were buried deep within the ISD.
And the rest?
The rest lay at the Imperial Academy.
That was the setting of the original game—Romance Fantasy I was thrust into.
Teen love.
But most of all… safety.
It was the only place I could predict events before they happened.
I pulled my hair back, and lay on the bed I hadn't slept in for years.
The sheets smelled faintly of cedarwood and lavender.
I lifted my left hand toward the ceiling.
The ring caught the moonlight again.
***
Next morning.
I stood at the estate's main gate, a soft fog curling around the edges of the drive as the sun slowly bled into the sky. One of the family cars was already waiting—sleek, polished obsidian with the Saint Grenn insignia etched discreetly on the side.
I was just about to step in when I heard a voice behind me.
"Noel?"
My fingers paused on the door handle. I turned.
A woman with flowing black hair stepped out of a dark car just behind mine. She was dressed sharply, even this early in the morning, with a long dark coat and those familiar piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see past everything I tried to hide.
Natalie.
She looked surprised, but in that reserved, graceful way she always had.
"Going so early?" she asked, shutting the car door behind her as she approached.
"Oh my god… I'm so sorry for not attending the party…" she added quickly.
I offered a small, dismissive smile.
"It's okay. It wasn't that grand anyway."
Her brows lifted just slightly.
"Where are you going this early? I heard you quit being a manager at the ISD…"
I exhaled and leaned slightly against the car. "I'm heading to the Imperial Academy. I… really need to get my old self back. And that's the only place I ever feel like myself."
I meant it. Even if "myself" was a patchwork of two lives now—Ju-Won and Noel Saint Grenn.
"I also heard about the attack at the ISD-Obsidian...
The Wretched Faith really just upped their death wish, targeting you right after your return from the military…"
She let out a breath that passed for a chuckle and gave me a small smile.
But it didn't last. It flickered—there, then gone. Like a candle in the rain.
I caught it.
"What's wrong?"
She didn't look at me for a second.
But then—she sighed, folding her arms as she stopped walking.
"…The candidacy for the next Divine Household is underway," she finally said.
"And… you know how it gets."
I did.
Divine Household candidacy.
It wasn't a game. It was war—only dressed in etiquette and diplomacy.
The process was political, yes, but beneath that polite veneer was a silent battlefield, one where assassinations, sabotage, and blackmail were common weapons.
The most powerful Saint Houses and mage dynasties submitted their names—each craving that title, that impossible glory.
To become a Divine House… meant ascending beyond nobility.
It meant standing at the side of the Imperial Family, functioning as the sword and the shield of the Empire.
Only two Houses could be chosen: one for the left hand of the Emperor, and one for the right.
And with that title came privileges not even Saint Houses possessed.
Unrestricted access to Imperial Vaults.Authority over regional judgments.Immunity in most legislative matters.Royal guards stationed as permanent escorts.Exclusive seats at the Holy Tribunal.
It was power on paper. Power in presence. Power in permanence.
And that's why they killed for it.
That's why the ISD had been attacked.
I knew it. Even if no one ever said it aloud.
Even if I had sworn to avoid politics, to stay on the sidelines and preserve my limited lifespan…
Even if I'd long accepted that this world was nothing more than a cursed setting scripted for my death…
This wasn't something I could just ignore.
Even the original Noel wouldn't.
Our House—Saint Grenn—had once been a mere viscounty. Then came the rise. The sudden, meteoric rise into Sainthood. And now?
Now we stood at the edge of the next threshold.
My thoughts broke as I looked at Natalie again.
She was still tense. Still carrying it all alone.
I stepped forward, and without thinking, I reached up and cupped her cheek.
Her skin was cold.
Or maybe it was my hand.
"I'm here if you need anything," I said softly.
No hesitation. No stutter. Just truth.
"If it means standing by you… and this family… I'd go back to being a knight without thinking twice."
She looked at me then, fully.
Her eyes searched mine—like she was looking for something she hadn't seen in years.
"Noel…" she whispered, her voice thinning with something close to disbelief.
The truth was, I wasn't who I used to be.
The old Noel had blamed everything—his illness, his future, his pain. He had used it like a shield and a prison all at once. He had wanted to be left alone. To die without bothering anyone.
But me?
I had already died.
And come back.
I had felt blood in my throat, knives in my ribs, light fading from my eyes—and still I stood.
Maybe I was doomed. Maybe not.
But if I had even a little time left—then I wasn't going to waste it sitting in fear.
Natalie smiled suddenly, but it was a soft one—the kind that hurt behind the eyes.
Then she leaned in and pulled me into a hug. Her arms were warm, firm, and trembling just a little.
"You've changed," she whispered against my shoulder.
"But… maybe not in a bad way."
I didn't answer. I just hugged her back.
She pulled back and her gaze shifted downward suddenly, subtle but sharp.
She stopped mid-thought, eyes locked on something.
She pointed.
"Did you and…"
I followed her gaze.
And my heart gave the smallest of jolts.
The ring.
I'd forgotten to take it off.
It glinted innocently on my finger, catching the pale morning light.
A beat passed in silence.
Natalie blinked, then shook her head gently.
"You know what? I'm not going to say a thing..."
She walked past me slowly, the smell of her perfume lingering faintly in the air.
As she passed, she patted my shoulder—lightly, but it lingered for a moment longer than necessary.
"I as well I'm always here if you need anything," she muttered, quiet and real.
She stepped away, but before she got too far, she turned slightly.
"Check up on our little brother sometime, okay? He hasn't been himself lately."
I nodded slowly, a soft smile tugging at the edge of my lips.
"I will."
Then I got into the car.
The ride was smooth.
Silent, mostly, save for the hum of magic-charged wheels and the soft buzz of morning traffic.
Trees blurred past on either side, and mist clung to the glass like ghosts reluctant to leave.
Then, as we rounded a long bend…
It came into view.
The Velorian Imperial Academy.
My breath caught for a moment—not from awe, but familiarity.
It looked exactly like it did behind a monitor.
The same tall towers draped in climbing ivy.
The same expansive front courtyard, paved with white marble and lined with crystal-lamp posts.
Banners of the Empire flanking the wrought-iron gates, fluttering like memories.
I had seen it so many times…
Back when my sister used to sit beside me late at night, her monitor glowing with pictures and trailers of this place—concept art, teaser videos, game leaks.
And now here I was. Inside the game. Inside this world.
I wish you were here, I thought.
To see it in person.
Of all places… this was the safest.
Even for a character like me.
This place was built for romance.
For coming-of-age tales. For friendships, rivalries, and stolen kisses in hidden corners.
Not for death.
Here, my death variables were reduced. Significantly.
But just as the thought came, something else followed.
A soft ding in my mind.
Then, without warning, the system interface flickered into view across my vision—shimmering faintly, like a veil of glass.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Character Status: Noel Saint Grenn
Setting: [Dark Romance Fantasy]
[Limitation: Terminal Illness]
— This character is afflicted with a degenerative condition.
— Each death and regression further accelerates the illness.
— Lifespan diminishes with every cycle.
Caution: Excessive deaths will result in irreversible bodily collapse.
The screen faded.