Mariabell was no ordinary noble child — she was a Reincarnated One. In the depths of her soul lingered memories of another life, a life where she had ruled not by crown or sword, but by money.
In her former world, she had been a ruler who controlled the flow of gold across all of Europe. Armies fought and nations burned, yet to her, they were nothing more than pieces on a board.
Bullets rained upon battlefields. Cities turned to ash. Families wailed over the bodies of their dead. And amidst the smoke and ruin, Mariabell had smiled — profiting from every drop of blood spilled.
To her, war was not horror. It was business.
Even as the old world collapsed around her, she remained at the top, untouchable, bathing in luxury until her final breath came quietly in old age.
And now, she had been granted another chance.
In this new world, she was born again — as Princess Mariabell Rosso of the small but influential kingdom of Siltrosso. A royal of the most ancient and powerful line in the Western Nations.
This world was ruled not by economics, but by power — by monsters and magic. And yet, Mariabell's mind worked the same way it always had: seeking control.
The Western Nations existed in an uneasy balance. No kingdom dared openly wage war, for the monsters that roamed the lands were a far greater threat. Thus, long ago, the kings and nobles formed the Western State Council — a system meant to maintain peace among men.
And at its highest seat sat one man: Granbell Rosso, the Grand Elder.
No one knew how old Granbell truly was. Some whispered he had lived for centuries, others that he had made a pact with a being beyond comprehension. But his influence was absolute. Even Mariabell's father and brothers could not hope to meet him in person.
But Mariabell — she was different.
Her wisdom, her ambition, her eerie calm — all of it caught the attention of the immortal patriarch himself.
"Currency is civilization," she once said to her tutor, voice calm and mature beyond her years. "Without it, people trade lives instead of goods."
Her tutor had frowned, uneasy. "That's… a dangerous way of thinking, Princess."
"Is it?" Mariabell smiled faintly. "No, it's the truth. Trade unites people. Debt controls them."
It was that same insight that made Granbell Rosso seek her out.
Money. Value. Power. These were tools she understood on an instinctive level.
Long before she turned ten, Mariabell had already studied and reinvented the flow of commerce in her father's domain.
Once, value came from wheat and grain — the barter of survival. Then gold and silver rose to prominence, anchoring the concept of worth in something physical. But as civilization advanced, people began to crave symbols of wealth instead of wealth itself.
Thus came paper money.
Receipts, certificates, loans — illusions built upon illusions. It was a system she knew intimately. The foundation of a new sorcery.
As she explained to her servants, "True alchemy isn't turning lead into gold. It's convincing the world that a promise written on paper is worth more than gold itself."
They didn't understand. They simply bowed. But Granbell did.
In her world, banks had been temples of deceit. Men deposited their gold and were given paper, never realizing the banks were using that gold elsewhere — multiplying what did not exist. That was true power: the power to create wealth from nothing.
She knew the flaw in that system too — the gap between the total gold and the paper representing it. Someone would always have to pay for that lie. In her last life, she made sure it was never her.
When the bubble burst, when nations fell into ruin, she emerged richer every time.
War, famine, debt — she called them the "three pillars of progress."
In this new world, Mariabell saw the same opportunity waiting for her. This civilization's economy was primitive, but stable. Only one global currency existed, and language barriers were practically nonexistent.
To her, it was a perfect playground.
She could mold this entire world's economy in her image.
"Yes…" she whispered one night, staring at her reflection in a mirror framed in gold. "This world will be mine as well."
Her eyes gleamed with cold fire.
Her past life's memories had gifted her not just wisdom — but power. The desire to dominate had manifested into a Unique Skill: Greed.
Solarys once described such powers as "manifestations of the soul," the crystallized essence of one's innermost desires. And Mariabell's desire was pure and insatiable: to own everything.
The Skill: Greed was one of the Deadly Sins, the seven primal powers that embodied humanity's most dangerous ambitions. With it, she could see and control the desires of others.
Everyone had a price. Everyone wanted something.
Mariabell merely found what it was — and offered it to them.
Those who lusted for power became her soldiers.
Those who craved wealth became her financiers.
Those who sought love or revenge became her tools.
All she had to do was whisper. And they obeyed.
She began with the servants, then the nobles, and soon entire factions of the Rosso family moved at her command without realizing it.
There was no need to rush. The world wasn't ready for her yet. Civilization was too simple, too naive. But that made it all the easier to corrupt.
So, she smiled — an innocent, perfect little princess in the eyes of her court.
In truth, she was a serpent coiled beneath silk.
"Yes… when the time comes, I will reshape this world in my image," she whispered to herself. "Not with armies. Not with monsters. With debt."
Her laughter was quiet, but sharp.
And it was on the eve of her third birthday — when her mind had already matured beyond her years — that she met the man known as Granbell Rosso.
"So, you are Mariabell?"
The voice was calm yet carried an ancient authority that silenced the air itself. Granbell Rosso, the Grand Elder of the Western Nations, looked down at the little girl who stood before him—not with the eyes of a grandfather, but of a ruler assessing a potential threat.
Mariabell bowed her head politely. Her golden hair shimmered under the candlelight, her expression gentle yet unreadable. "Yes," she said smoothly, her tone composed and deliberate. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Grandfather."
The words were perfect. Too perfect. Not something a three-year-old child should ever be capable of saying. But Mariabell had long stopped behaving like a child. Every move, every word, was part of a calculation.
Granbell's eyes narrowed slightly, amused but cautious. "So, you are not planning to manipulate me, little one?" His tone was cold, void of warmth or affection. It was not the voice of family—it was the voice of a monarch addressing a subordinate.
Mariabell understood instantly. Any attempt to deceive him, even slightly, would have cost her her life. Her instincts screamed that Granbell was far beyond the pawns she had already bent to her will—her father, her brothers, the attendants, all of them were toys in comparison. But this man...
He was different.
"No," she said softly, meeting his piercing eyes with fearless clarity. "I wouldn't dare."
For a brief moment, silence filled the chamber. The flickering light of the candles danced across the marble floor, casting twin shadows across them both—one ancient and vast, the other small but growing.
Finally, Granbell leaned forward slightly, curiosity gleaming in his gaze. "Then tell me, Mariabell... what exactly do you see when you look at me?"
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "I see desire," she said. "I can see it in everyone. I see their greed, their hunger, their fears... their wishes. I can touch them. Shape them." She took a slow breath, steady and confident. "But you are different, Grandfather. Your desire burns brighter than anyone's... yet you control it completely. Your will is absolute. That's why—"
Granbell interrupted her with a low chuckle. "That's why you cannot control me, is that it?"
Mariabell nodded, her eyes unwavering. "Yes. I wouldn't be foolish enough to try."
"Hmph... You managed to see through all that, at your age." He paused, studying her as if dissecting her soul. "Who are you really, little one?"
"I am Mariabell," she said without hesitation. "Mariabell of Greed."
There was no fear in her tone, only the quiet certainty of someone declaring their existence to the world.
Granbell blinked once—then laughed. A deep, rumbling laugh that filled the chamber with its echo. "Heh… Ha! Hahaha! How interesting. You're bold enough to declare such a thing to my face!"
He leaned back in his chair, his expression one of genuine delight. "Very well, Mariabell. Let us speak plainly."
And so, for the first time, they did.
The two laid their cards bare before one another. Granbell revealed the truths of the Western Nations—the fragile peace, the hidden manipulations of the Council, and the greater forces that ruled the world: the Demon Lords who stood above nations, above mortal politics itself.
Mariabell, in return, told him of her past life—a world of technology, commerce, and deceit. She explained the origins of her Unique Skill, Greed, and how it allowed her to read and twist the desires of others.
Granbell listened quietly, his expression unreadable.
When she finished, he finally spoke. "You are a dangerous child, Mariabell. But danger, when refined, becomes power. Tell me—what do you seek?"
Her small hands clenched at her sides, but her voice was steady. "To create a world where I rule the flow of everything—gold, will, and fate itself."
A silence followed. Then Granbell smiled faintly. "A world under Rosso control… hm. Perhaps we are not so different, you and I."
He stood, his shadow stretching over her like an empire swallowing the sun. "Mariabell, if anything were to happen to me, you shall inherit my ambition."
Her heart skipped, though she masked it well. "Your ambition…?"
"Yes." His tone deepened, commanding. "I wish to create a world of peace, where chaos no longer decides who lives or dies. Under the rule of the Rosso bloodline, we shall bring equality—through control."
Control. The very word that defined Mariabell's soul.
She bowed deeply, her eyes gleaming with quiet triumph. "I understand, Grandfather. I swear upon my name—I will dedicate everything to your vision."
"Good," Granbell said. "Then let our bond begin here, Mariabell of Greed."
And with that, history shifted.
That day marked the beginning of a pact that would alter the fate of nations.
The Grand Elder of the Rosso family, a former Hero cloaked in shadows, had found an heir in a girl who embodied human desire itself.
From that day on, he began to teach her—secrets forbidden to all others. She learned of the true hierarchy behind the Western Nations, of the Seven Luminary Clerics who guided the Church from the shadows, and of the being they secretly worshipped: Luminous, the true protector of the Western Nations.
Granbell revealed that he himself was one of those seven—his "death" nothing more than a convenient disguise that allowed him to manipulate events unseen.
Mariabell absorbed every word like scripture. She studied history, sorcery, politics, and the language of power until she could wield them all as effortlessly as breathing.
By the age of ten, Mariabell Rosso had become the second most influential person in the Western Nations—second only to Granbell himself.
And in the silence of her chamber, her ambition whispered once more:
It's time.
The world had a new player now. And her eyes were set on the one name that stood as a threat to her grand design—
Atem.
The ruler of Eterna.
The sovereign guided by Solarys, the embodiment of wisdom itself.
And Mariabell was ready to begin her operation—to bring down the one being even her grandfather spoke of in caution.
To defeat Atem, the King who commanded both gods and fate.