That day, I remembered my previous life.
It was triggered by my mother’s death.
My father and mother had a typical aristocratic arranged marriage, and my father had a mistress. After my mother’s death, my father wasted no time in making his mistress the official wife and bringing her daughter, my half-sister, into the household. That half-sister grew up to become the villainess of a certain novel — and I remembered the plot.
It was a novel that even got adapted into an anime, one I loved so much that I owned the art books and had read the thick worldbuilding guide.
But never did I imagine I would reincarnate as the villainess’s half-sister.
This half-sister, Lilygen, only had a few lines in the story, but she was on a fast track to being mistreated, the classic unfortunate noble lady.
She wasn’t loved by her father, was abused by her stepmother, and had everything—her mother’s keepsakes, her fiancé, and her position as the heir—stolen by her half-sister. In the novel, the half-sister, who had healing magic and was praised as a future saint, grew up to be beautiful and arrogant. The story followed her as a new saint candidate with immense magical power appeared, entangling them in love, jealousy, and many thrilling plot twists.
In the end, the half-sister accelerated her malicious deeds and received the popular “just desserts” treatment. And this was where Lilygen came back into the story.
The count’s family, ravaged by her stepmother and half-sister, was in shambles. Worst of all, with just a simple “I’m sorry, Lilygen,” her father reconciled with her, and she was left to care for her ailing father.
It was unbearable.
After ten years of abuse, this was less of a salvation and more of a punishment, or so I thought. In the novel, the stepmother and half-sister were punished, and Lilygen regained her status as the heir, so it was framed as her being “saved,” but that only addressed the surface problems. Lilygen had to forgive those who had abused her with a single apology, and new burdens were just beginning for her.
Besides, I always found it strange.
My mother and father had an arranged marriage for political reasons, for the benefit and strategy of their families. Even if the custody of the child rested with my father’s family, why did my mother’s relatives allow the abuse of their own blood?
For a noble family to have their child mistreated would imply that my father’s side looked down on my mother’s family. If they were a lower-ranked noble family, maybe, but high-ranking nobles wouldn’t stay silent, their pride and reputation on the line.
So, at my first meeting with my stepmother and half-sister at the estate today, I said:
“Father, I’ve decided to become my uncle’s adopted daughter.”
I looked my father in the eye as I spoke.
My uncle was my late mother’s twin brother. He had doted on me since childhood, and he had already agreed to the adoption in a letter.
Despite being written on high-quality paper, the letter was wrinkled in places, likely from my uncle’s tears. My heart ached at his grief. My uncle’s son was suffering from a severe illness, so he couldn’t leave the estate and had been unable to be there for his sister’s final moments. His handwriting was shaky with sorrow.
In the novel, Lilygen didn’t ask her uncle for help, thinking of his heartbreak and inability to act.
But I begged my uncle for help.
From my previous life’s experience, I knew that when a child is in trouble, they should cry out for help.
As loudly as possible.
Sometimes, help doesn’t come.
But sometimes, it does.
My uncle sent one of his most trusted subordinates along with his letter.
Standing behind me now was a towering, muscular knight, keeping a sharp eye on my father and his household.
Thanks to this knight’s presence, my father and his wife couldn’t dismiss my words with a laugh and were forced to listen.
“To avoid the bad reputation of having abandoned your legitimate daughter after remarrying, you could make me your uncle’s adopted child, providing financial support and a future dowry for me. It’s a favorable solution, don’t you think?”
Since nobles value appearances, this way, my family name wouldn’t be tarnished, and they could rid themselves of me. My father and stepmother would likely be more than happy to agree, since they wanted to make my half-sister the heir to the count’s house.
It was likely that, for the sake of appearances, my father would spread a story in high society that went something like this: despite the count’s household opposing it, my mother’s family forcefully took in their pitiful daughter who had lost her mother, and the count’s household provided generous support to ensure the daughter lived comfortably.
My uncle, however, didn’t care about such rumors in high society. He told me that protecting the cherished daughter of his beloved late sister was more important than anything else.
My father and stepmother were clearly taken aback by the sudden proposal from a seven-year-old, but the idea of officially making my half-sister the heir was too tempting to pass up. They gulped, especially my stepmother, whose eyes were gleaming with greed.
Meanwhile, my half-sister, who was the same age as me, was utterly engrossed in the colorful array of sweets laid out on the table. Completely oblivious to our conversation, she ate them messily, doted on by the maids, feeling like a princess. Clearly, she hadn’t yet received any formal noble education.
I felt a bit sorry for her, realizing she would likely grow up spoiled and selfish, doted on by her parents. But right now, my priority was securing my own future. At seven years old, I was powerless, and all I could do was focus on protecting myself.
“Since there will be future inheritance and succession issues, how about I completely sever ties with the count’s family and be removed from the family registry?”
The count’s family was wealthy.
Even though it might fall into ruin due to my stepmother’s and half-sister’s extravagant spending, for now, they were incredibly rich.
My uncle’s family was wealthy too, and though I prioritized my mother’s keepsakes over money, people tend to feel at ease when financial matters are settled. Moreover, my father’s family had a habit of solving everything with money. When I brought up financial matters during the negotiations, my father’s face relaxed. He wanted to avoid the social and emotional burden of being branded a neglectful parent, and he thought money would compensate for that.
For my father, absolution could be bought with money.
With my stepmother’s eager eyes on him, my father nodded.
“If that’s what you wish,” he said, pretending to be a caring father. Inwardly, I clenched my fists in frustration.
I grabbed the hem of my dress and curtsied to my father.
He had never shown any real interest in me. I lived with my mother in the countryside while he lived in the capital. I could count on one hand the number of times I had met him. Though I wanted to voice my complaints in this final moment, I swallowed my words, calming my breathing.
Only a fool acts impulsively based on fleeting emotions.
With the grace expected of a noble lady, I bowed my head and said my farewell.
I had no lingering attachments to the father who had always looked down on and disregarded me and my mother. He lived in the capital and didn’t even attend my mother’s funeral.
And so, I left the sinking ship, taking my mother’s keepsakes and a fortune, as I escaped in a carriage.
The carriage wheels creaked.
We moved off the paved stone road, lined with weeds on either side, onto a gravel path that was little more than a worn-down dirt road. Small stones crunched under the wheels. The road stretched on, winding like a monster’s intestines, leading in the opposite direction my mother had traveled as a bride.
My uncle was a marquis of the borderlands, so it would take fifteen days by carriage to reach his estate from my father’s.
As I sat in the swaying carriage, I reviewed the plot of the novel in my mind.
Why, despite the geographical distance, did Lilygen remain abused even though she had a powerful uncle who could have been her guardian?
In the novel, my uncle was devastated by the death of his only son to illness. Right when he was grieving, a large-scale monster invasion occurred, forcing him to focus on rebuilding his devastated territory. In truth, he simply didn’t have the capacity to extend his protection to Lilygen.
That’s why, as I flee to the frontier to escape my father, I am also going to help my uncle. It’s okay. Along with remembering my past life, I’ve awakened healing magic.
The reason my half-sister could use healing magic is because the founder of my father’s family was the kingdom’s first saint. I, too, have inherited that bloodline. Moreover, my mother came from the marquis family of the frontier, which is famous for possessing immense magical power.
Even though I’m just a background character, Lilygen, I actually have more magical power than the heroine, thanks to my lineage. In fact, I could even become a saint, though I won’t. I have no desire to be a saint, whose motto is love and devotion.
In the novel, Lilygen also awakened her healing magic only after the heroine had been chosen as the saint. So, I’ll steer clear of the saints and let my half-sister and the heroine fight over that role in the capital. Good luck to them. I’ll be doing my best out here in the frontier.
Even though I’m the direct descendant, the bloodline of the first saint has spread over generations. Healing magic is still rare, but numbers give strength. While there may be stronger and weaker healers, there are plenty of magic users.
On the fifteenth day, an enormous forest that towered like a mountain loomed before me.
It was the cursed forest of the frontier.
A forest with such dense green, it seemed to contain darkness itself. It was as if a rainbow made up entirely of shades of green, with countless hues of green blending and overlapping.
Birds chirped among the flowers.
Birds sang in the sky.
Their calls were as if they were the breath of the vibrant green that enveloped everything.
“Lilygen,” my uncle greeted me at the marquis’ mansion. He had grown gaunt from the strain of losing his wife and his only son being bedridden with illness.
“Uncle, I can use healing magic now,” I told him, even before properly greeting him.
His face lit up with joy at my words.
Not everyone born into the count’s family can manifest healing magic. My father and his siblings didn’t have the talent. But those who could manifest it had extraordinary abilities, enough to be revered as saints.
“‘To Theobald,’” my uncle and I said in unison.
The bedroom, heavy with the scent of medicine, was dimly lit, as if the sunlight from the window had been absorbed by the gloom.
In this murky, crystal-clouded room, Theobald lay asleep, frail and weak. He was my cousin, four years older than me.
“Theobald, it’s Lilygen. Give me your hand,” I said, clasping his hand in both of mine. Theobald slowly opened his eyes. They were as blue as gemstones.
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