Rain had a way of making everything look cleaner than it truly was.
It blurred the edges of the city, softened the glow of distant lights, and washed over the blood pooling quietly beneath her.
Unfortunate, really.
She had always preferred seeing things clearly.
The metallic scent in the air was sharp, almost intrusive, mingling with the damp chill of the night. Her fingers twitched faintly against the cold concrete, slick with rainwater-and something warmer.
Ah.
There it was.
Blood.
A lot of it, judging by how quickly the warmth was fading from her body.
"... Well," she exhaled softly, her voice barely audible beneath the steady rhythm of the rain. "That's... not ideal."
Somewhere in the distance, footsteps echoed-urgent, disorganized. Voices followed, muffled through the downpour. They were too far. Too late.
Of course they were.
Her gaze shifted upward, unfocused yet strangely calm, tracing the hazy outline of the night sky. The mission had been simple. Infiltrate. Extract. Leave
no trace.
She had completed two out of three.
A small, almost amused breath escaped her.
"Seventy percent success rate," she murmured to no one in particular. "I suppose that's still above average."
Her hand moved-slow, heavy-pressing weakly against the wound just below her ribs. Useless. She knew it was useless. The angle had been wrong. Too precise.
A professional strike.
Which meant-
"Mm." Her lips curved faintly despite everything.
"Betrayal, then."
How... predictable.
The realization didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have. If anything, it felt annoyingly expected, like the ending of a story she had already read one too many times.
Her breathing grew shallow, uneven.
Each inhale came slower than the last.
Still, her expression remained composed-almost thoughtful, as if she were analyzing the situation rather than actively dying in it.
"...If this is how I go," she said quietly, her voice thinning with each word, "I would have preferred something less... cliché."
A pause.
Then, after a moment-
"And perhaps indoors."
The rain, unfortunately, did not care for her preferences.
It continued to fall, steady and indifferent, soaking through her clothes, clinging to her skin. Cold spread through her limbs, creeping upward with
quiet determination.
Her fingers slackened.
The strength in her body ebbed away, piece by piece, until even the effort of keeping her eyes open began to feel... excessive.
How troublesome.
"...I had plans," she added faintly, though whether it was a complaint or a simple observation, even she wasn't entirely sure.
No grand regrets.
No desperate struggle.
Just a quiet, lingering dissatisfaction.
Her gaze dimmed.
The world softened.
And then-
Darkness.
That should have been the end.
It would have been, under normal circumstances.
But then again-
Her life had never been particularly interested in normal circumstances.
A sound.
Soft at first. Mechanical.
Then clearer.
[System Initialization Complete.]
Silence followed.
A long, deliberate silence.
"...No," she said flatly into the void.
There was a pause-as though whatever entity existed beyond that voice had not quite expected that response.
[Host consciousness successfully retained.]
"...I see."
Her tone remained calm, but there was a subtle edge to it now. The kind that suggested she was already tired of whatever was happening.
"Let me guess," she continued, her voice echoing faintly in the emptiness. "I am either dead..... dreaming... or about to be subjected to something extremely inconvenient."
[Correction: All three.]
A beat.
"...How efficient."
If she had possessed a physical body at that moment, she might have sighed.
"As much as I appreciate the... enthusiasm," she went on, "I would like to formally decline."
[Request denied.]
"Of course it is."
A sudden force pulled at her-sharp, disorienting.
Like being dragged through something too narrow, too fast.
Then-
Pain.
Immediate. Jarring. Real.
Her eyes snapped open.
A ceiling.
White.
Unfamiliar.
Her body felt... wrong.
Lighter.
Weaker.
Annoyingly alive.
She blinked once. Slowly.
Then again.
"...This," she said after a long pause, her voice hoarse but steady, "is new."
Before she could move, the voice returned-clearer now, almost pleased.
[Welcome, Host.]
[You have been successfully transferred into the narrative world: "The Crown's Tragedy."]
Her expression did not change.
"...I see."
A brief silence lingered.
Then-
"Out of curiosity," she added, her tone dangerously calm, "do I at least get a say in this?"
[No.]
"...Right."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then, finally-
"...Fine," she muttered, closing her eyes briefly as if accepting a particularly annoying inconvenience. "Explain."
There was a flicker-something intangible shifting in the air around her.
[You have been granted ten lives.]
[Objective: Survive the narrative.]
[Failure condition: Death in all ten lives results in permanent termination.]
Silence.
Then-
"...Ten?" she repeated slowly.
[Correct.]
"...And if I succeed?"
[You may return to your original world.]
A faint hum left her lips.
Thoughtful.
Calculating.
Then-
"...And if I fail?"
A brief pause.
As if the system were savoring the answer.
[You die. Permanently.]
She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
Unmoving.
Unbothered.
Then-
"...Alright."
Her voice was quiet.
Calm.
Almost... agreeable.
"If survival is the objective," she said, shifting slightly despite the unfamiliar weakness in her body, "then I assume you've placed me in a reasonably advantageous position."
There was a pause.
A very telling pause.
[You have been assigned the role of a minor character.]
"...Acceptable."
[A character with limited influence.]
"...Still manageable."
[A character with a predetermined death.]
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Then-
"...I beg your pardon?"
[You are the Duke's wife.]
Another pause.
Then-
"Ah
A soft exhale escaped her.
Not relief.
Not panic.
Something far more complicated.
"...I see."
A few seconds passed.
Then, very calmly-
"Is he attractive?"
The system paused.
Actually paused.
As though, for the first time, it was uncertain how to proceed.
[...Yes.]
"...Good."
She closed her eyes again, a faint, resigned smile touching her lips.
"Well then," she murmured softly, as if settling into an inevitable disaster,
"this might be slightly less unfortunate than I
thought."
[Additional Information:]
[The Duke is in love with the heroine.]
"...Naturally."
[In all known narrative paths...]
A brief pause.
Then-
[He kills you.]
Silence.
Then-
"Ah."
A beat.
"...That is," she said thoughtfully, "slightly more unfortunate."