Did someone say life is like getting served a new flavor of crap you've never tasted, day after day?
I agree with that one, one hundred percent.
A year ago, I fell asleep after killing time the way I always did—holed up in my room, reading a novel.
Then I opened my eyes the next morning, and my field of vision was crammed with what looked like a scene straight out of medieval Europe.
While I was lying on a plush bed that didn't match my dark, secondhand-cluttered room in the slightest.
Lacking context, you say?
Sure. Isn't most of life exactly that—things happening with zero context?
Anyway, even in that absurd situation, I dutifully got up and combed through the room.
And then—ping!—a light bulb went off in my head.
The instincts of a romance-fantasy reader of n-teen years whispered to me:
I had transmigrated.
"Me? Transmigrated…?"
I've read hundreds of romance-fantasy novels, but I never actually expected to be the one doing the transmigrating.
"...Huh? That's nuts."
I'm a decent twenty-three-year-old head-of-household who barely escaped my family's discrimination and abuse, finally went independent, and was making it through college on a scholarship I earned myself.
If you're wondering who I am, answering is only polite!
Suddenly transmigrated, but my soul's intact!
There is only ever one truth!
I'm Cha Miso—meow!
…Yeah, as if.
Out of nowhere I was turned into a four-year-old kid and dropped into some weird world.
What am I, Co—nan?! Are you kidding me?!
…And while I was busy denying reality, a whole year went by.
"Make it make sense."
Even as I rejected this ridiculous reality, I kept gathering information, and eventually I uncovered a shocking fact.
This place was the world of a novel I'd read before…
No—if we're being precise, it was the world of my favorite novel, titled .
How do I know?
I wish I didn't.
But when you've read a novel dozens of times, there's no way you wouldn't recognize it.
There was no way I wouldn't recognize those oft-repeated descriptions and settings I'd practically memorized word-for-word.
Dragon-shaped ornaments everywhere, a crest that looked like a stylized dragon—those pushed my suspicions into certainty.
What clinched it was the name of the house: "Etam."
Etam.
Why do I remember such an unassuming name…?
First, because this is the very stage where takes place.
Second, because the Etam family's infamy and their various nutjob antics were depicted with such cruelty and lawlessness that it left a mark.
Would it help if I told you this child-rearing story was rated 17+?
, a.k.a.
Only, in the process, the heroine mistakenly thinks she was adopted by accident and quietly prepares to run away. The duke's people catch on and run around in a panic.
As with all heroines, the MC of
And of course, like many novels, this family harbors a tragic secret.
Members of House Etam carry dragon blood; they're born with far stronger healing, strength, and senses than ordinary people.
But great power comes with side effects.
That's right.
House Etam suffers from a chronic affliction where their mana goes berserk and drives them to kill—"Berserk."
The thicker the blood, the worse the Berserk gets.
And the heroine? She can actually soothe that Berserk.
A rare ray of sunshine in a harsh family, and she can calm the house's biggest headache?There's no universe in which this family doesn't adore her.
So
Of course, later it morphs into a reverse-harem political free-for-all.
And the family itself? A collection of lunatics, each with their own flavor—tender to the heroine, ruthless to everything else. The strongest of clans.
The familiar taste is the most dangerous—that's how a place becomes a favorite.
The plot is the kind you've seen a million times, but it was still fun enough that I could recite whole sentences.
Well—at least the early, child-rearing part.
The further it went, the more it fizzled out like a dragon's head with a snake's tail…
Mm, I'd rather not talk about it.
Anyway, I really loved that novel's heroine.
Unlike me, she was loved by everyone, which made it very easy for me to over-immerse myself.
But…
The me who transmigrated is not the protagonist of
If you insist on asking what my role is…
An extra.
A half-blood extra, born out of wedlock. And in stories like this, half-blood extras are usually instant-kill fodder.
On top of that, House Etam was founded by "Betard Etam," who branded himself to a Black Dragon, drank its blood, and forged a contract with it.
The dragon house.
Some people called them that.
Like dragons, they even seemed poor at reproducing—their descendants were rare.
And I'm an illegitimate child someone from an Etam cadet branch brought in from outside.
…Or so they think; I'm probably not related at all.
The cadet-branch man who's mistaken for my father seems to have been a real piece of work.
"However I ended up dragged here…"
Booze, drugs, women—you name the vice, he managed to make a mess of it.
Etam almost never disowns blood, but even they cut him off with visible shudders.
The only reason I wasn't thrown out is that I'm still young and clueless, and Etam children are rare.
But…?
I'm a fake.
How do I know?
First, I'm not a normal human. Second, I'm a lizard beastkin.
And in the novel, I'm slated to be used early on as the device that shows how cold-blooded House Etam is, when I'm kicked out of the house.
At the important New Year's assembly that everyone in the family attends every year, I turn into a lizard, which triggers a blood test.
While we're waiting on that test, I cause some kind of incident and get expelled. Honestly, you don't need the results to guess how that would've gone.
Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that either way, I end up getting thrown out!
"...I'm only five. How am I supposed to survive out there?"
The more I thought about it, the gloomier I got.
Why? Because…
Tomorrow is the big day.
Still, who am I?
A die-hard
So for the past year, I did my best to follow the playbook of all those child-rearing novels I've read and rack up brownie points with the duke's house.
You know, by pointing out dangers in the ducal household, ways to save people who would otherwise die later, or by exposing industrial-spy types.
The problem is…
"I haven't seen them even once…"
Forget the duke— I could barely get a proper look at any of the duke's household. Hard to score points when you never get the chance.
That's right.
Come to think of it, all those transmigration stories I read were really just new novels where the person who jumped into the original became the protagonist.
"Oh my, my lady—why are you sitting out here? It's cold today."
As the last year flickered through my head like a montage, Maid Maila came running toward me on the long garden bench, her light-brown hair flying.
"Mmm… Life ith too hawd…"
"Pardon…? Pfft—oh dear, what could be so hard for our little lady?"
"Tomowwow I get one year older and I'll be five…"
"Ah, so our lady is turning five. Yes, another year older—no wonder you're feeling a little fluttery, hm?"
No, not fluttery—positively jumpy.
Like my tiny, precious life is a candle in the wind…
"Your heart must ache a lot. What can I do to ease it for you?"
Not knowing any of that, Maila lightly stroked my cheek with a smile in her voice.
In this wretched foreign life, Maila was the best thing I'd been given.
Not that she'd been kind from the start.
If anything, it felt like she helped me only because she couldn't ignore me in good conscience, even though it was a hassle.
So I worked at it, too.
[Maila! If you eat this fruit, your head won't huwt!]
When Maila was sick and too poor to see a physician, I drew on the plant-nerd knowledge I'd built back when I was in the pharmacy program before transmigrating, and taught her some herbs…
[Maila! Don't go anywhewe tomowwow! Absolutely don't go to the temple, 'kay?]
I also warned her away from that mysterious terror incident at the capital's temple—the one I knew about from the novel.
[Maila, this is a pwesent for you! It's shiny! Pwetty, wight?]
And I even gave her a speck-of-millet-sized nugget of gold—the very one the heroine was supposed to find and use to earn points with the duke.
It was really the size of a millet grain, so it wouldn't have sold for much even if Maila tried. To the duke, it would've been even more trivial.
But that scene where the heroine handed it to the duke? It made a lot of readers cry.
[Did you know, Your Grace? People like shiny things! You always seem angry, like you're carrying a sadness… so I wanted this to make you happy too…!]
The heroine's sun-drenched words practically blew up the comment section.
…And yes, I was one of them.
But no matter how I spun it, I could never say something that pure, so what I told Maila back then was my limit.
Because I'm not the protagonist.
Even so, thanks to those tear-worthy efforts, Maila became a pretty reliable ally.
Which will all end tomorrow.
All year I kept saying, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow. There's still time—let's put it off a few more days," and I procrastinated.
Pure escapism.
And now I'm about to get thrown out with not a single coin to my name.
Even if I've won Maila over, it's not like she can just leave the house with me.
"Am I supposed to find a new nest, like in those other novels?"
I sighed, deep and long.
"Oh—right! How about hot chocolate with marshmallows for today's snack? I had business at the main house and managed to get a little marshmallow and cocoa powder."
"Gasp—yes!"
Hot chocolate with marshmallows—this was my best chance to restore my blood sugar.
What would hot chocolate taste like with marshmallows floating on top?
I rolled my eyes up, thinking.
In my previous life I'd wanted it sometimes, but my two older brothers always ate it all before it ever reached me.
When I got older, we stopped keeping hot chocolate at home, so I never had the chance.
Sure, as an adult I could've bought it myself, but I didn't care to.
"Is this a last gift—hot chocolate?"
Sniff. What a good little maid I have.
"Maila, even if I'm gone… live well…"
"My lady? Why would you be gone? I'll be right by your side. I even requested to be assigned to our Lady Eirin again this year."
"Really…?"
"Yes. If no one else volunteers, I'll be serving you."
"Mmm, thank you…"
But, Maila… the place you work might not exist anymore…
It's a pity to waste all the brownie points I've earned, but I can't ask her to throw away her life for me.
"I'll go make the hot chocolate—just a moment, please."
"Mmm."
I nodded meekly.
If I'm going to survive somehow—even at an orphanage—I should at least eat well right now.
"Come to think of it… there was a pretty decent orphanage somewhere, wasn't there?"
I'm sure it was run by a hero of the Holy-Demonic War who retired quietly.
Why can't I remember?
Strange.
I read that novel so much, and yet the memory won't come.
"I think there was a list of orphanages in the study. I should go check."
When I tilted my head, I caught my reflection in a nearby mirror.
And, well…
No matter how I look at me… I'm too… cute?
I touched the mirror.
Different from reality, huh.
The Etam family is full of beautiful men and women, so I won't stand out, but…
Pastel-pink hair, snow-white chubby cheeks, and eyes like liquid honey—objectively adorable.
I'm smaller than other kids my age, with short arms and legs and a pretty short height, but I'm satisfied with my looks.
But what's the use of being cute… when I'm about to be thrown out without doing a thing?
Even in a favorite novel, there was nothing I could actually do.
A novel is just a novel, after all.
While I was stretching my soft cheeks in gloom, Maila came back.
I dutifully drank the hot chocolate, then pretended to nap. Once Maila left, I slipped out of the room.
"All right—time to gather intel on a new nest."
What I didn't know then…
Was that I was about to run into one of the Top 5 people from that you must never, ever meet.