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Chapter Text

“Where… am I?” Hestia’s eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim glow of an unfamiliar room.

She blinked, taking in the cold white walls, the gleam of marble, and a massive screen embedded at the room’s center.

It looked too modern, too sterile—a jarring contrast to the world she knew.

For a moment, it almost reminded her of those luxurious conference rooms back in Korea, but that couldn’t be right.

She was in her favorite novel’s world, not—

Her breath hitched as she noticed the people surrounding her.

Familiar faces, each one she’d only ever read about, filled the room.

Her gaze fell on Cael first. He looked haggard, his usually vibrant eyes dimmed, shadows lingering beneath them.

Her heart twisted. How long had he been suffering like this?

To her left, the Crown Prince and Princess stood in resplendent silence, backs straight and confused faces.

Anger bubbled up in her chest; they had caused Cael so much pain. But she forced herself to remain still. “ Keep calm, Hestia. You can’t afford to make a scene.”

As she took in the crowd—nobles, generals, the sweetheart Madame Harmonia—a sudden, booming voice filled the room.

“ Greetings, humans. ”

The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, resonating through the walls and rattling down to her very bones.

Every head turned, every breath stilled.

Hestia felt her throat close up, too stunned to respond.

“G-God?” a voice stammered from the far side of the room.

She recognized it as a lesser noble, someone usually quick to praise Diana. His voice trembled. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” the voice replied with calm authority. “I am the one who created you. And I have brought you all here to bear witness to my forsaken child’s suffering. I can no longer turn away.”

Confused murmurs rippled through the room.

Heads turned, eyes darting, each trying to make sense of this strange pronouncement.

The Crown Prince cleared his throat, his voice laced with the haughty confidence that only royalty possessed.

“Your holiness, may we ask why? Are we not here to witness the light and good of your chosen saintess, Diana?”

Hestia felt a prickle of irritation, though she remained silent.

But the god’s voice hardened, the warmth draining out of it like a frost spreading over the room. “I am not speaking of you, Diana. You ceased to be my child the moment you chose power over the people, abandoning your gifts for your own gain.”

A ripple of shock passed through the crowd. All eyes turned to Diana, whose face had gone deathly pale.

“W-what?” Diana stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

She seemed to shrink back, casting a pleading glance at the Crown Prince.

“My god, I have only ever used my powers for your glory—for the good of the kingdom!”

“Once, perhaps,” the god’s voice replied coldly, “but no longer.

The moment you pledged yourself to the Crown Prince, you offered your gifts only to the palace, neglecting the people who truly needed you.”

Diana’s mouth opened and closed in shock, but no words came out.

A silence settled over the room, heavy and oppressive.

Hestia’s gaze returned to the enormous screen, and as if sensing her focus, it flickered to life.

Words slowly appeared, each letter blazing bright against the dark backdrop.

“For my derelict favorite.”

The words hung in the air, leaving a chill in their wake.

Hestia’s heart skipped a beat. Who… was this ‘favorite’?

A murmur spread through the room, and someone whispered, “Then… who are we meant to watch?”

The screen dimmed momentarily, then brightened, showing an image of a young woman standing alone, her expression weary but resolute.

Hestia’s heart clenched. She knew that face all too well. It was her own.

The god’s voice echoed again, softer but unmistakably filled with sorrow.

“Watch now, and see what my true child has endured.”

The room was silent as the first scene began to play.

Chapter Text

The screen flickered to life, and in bold, stark letters, a single line appeared:

“Cael is dead.”

A collective gasp rippled through the room, stunned silence filling the air. The words lingered, ominous and final, before the scene on the screen changed.

A woman in a black gown walked down an aisle lined with rows of mourners, her head bowed low, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

The hall looked as though it belonged to the temple, the air heavy with the scent of incense and sorrow.

“Who…who is that?” someone whispered from across the room, confusion evident in their tone.

“What does she mean, ‘Cael is dead’?” another voice demanded, louder this time, the question laced with shock and denial.

Several people craned their necks, searching the faces in the room as if hoping to find some clue.

The panic was tangible, a creeping sense of horror taking root.

“There!” someone exclaimed, pointing towards the back. “The woman from the screen—she’s here. At the back!”

Heads turned, a wave of faces and eyes shifting toward Hestia.

Her heart skipped a beat as the weight of their stares settled upon her.

She didn’t know what to say, her mouth dry and frozen, her mind still reeling from the words she’d just seen.

Hestia could only sit there, silent and bewildered, as everyone around her looked on, expecting an answer she couldn’t yet give.

The nobles’ voices rose into a chaotic symphony of questions, each one sharper than the last, demanding answers that no one could provide.

All the while, the screen continued to play, its words unfurling like a series of blows.

“My only hope… the one thing that kept me going in this wretched world.” The woman on the screen whispered, her tone desolate.

She moved forward, her steps heavy, and her head bowed. Her voice was faint but desperate, muttering a single phrase over and over.

“Cale is…” Her knees buckled, and she stumbled, crashing to the floor. Her hands clung to the ground, fingers digging into the polished stone as if she could anchor herself against the truth she was forced to say. “No, Cael was killed.”

A shocked gasp rippled through the room.

“What does she mean, ‘Cael was killed’?” one of the nobles blurted, his tone high with disbelief.

The Marquis was well-respected—who would dare commit such a crime?

Another noble, younger and visibly shaken, echoed the question. “Who would dare murder the Marquis?” His voice trembled, his fear evident.

But no one had an answer, and silence fell over the room once more. Hestia chewed on her lip, her mind racing.

She knew all too well who had brought about Cael’s end—the Crown Prince and Princess, whose ambition and cruelty had stolen away the one person she could never forgive them for taking.

But she held her tongue.

If she spoke now, if she let slip even the slightest hint of her hatred, it could backfire and worsen Cael’s fate in the future.

On the screen, the woman’s hoarse voice rose again. Her gaze was fixed on the altar as though seeking a divine answer.

“They… they killed him,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. Small droplets streaked down her cheeks, her despair raw and visible to everyone watching.

Her thoughts, clearer and louder now, resonated through the hall. “If God really exists… If Cael had to have such a tragic end…”

At the front of the room, Euros sat silently beside Cael, who remained slouched in his seat, expression unreadable.

Cael’s gaze was fixed on the screen, though his eyes held no spark of life. He’d given up long ago, resigned to a life that had offered him little but bitterness.

Yet something about this scene held him transfixed. Who was this woman? Why did she seem to know him—more than that, to care about him? He didn’t show it, but curiosity flickered in the back of his mind.

On the screen, the woman’s voice continued to echo, her despair nearly palpable. “If there’s a reason why I came to this world…”

A heavy silence descended over the room.

“ Came to this world?! ” someone shouted, the confusion and terror in their voice cracking through the silence.

“What does she mean, came to this world ?” The nobles erupted into frantic whispers, each of them speculating wildly as they tried to make sense of the woman’s words.

An eerie tension wound through the air, twisting tighter with every question left unanswered.

At the center of the room, the Crown Prince’s gaze sharpened, his mouth curling into a princely smile as he turned toward Hestia. “My lady,” he said smoothly, his tone cordial but cutting.

“Could you kindly explain what you from the screen meant by ‘from another world’?”

Hestia’s distaste simmered just beneath the surface, but she masked it, her expression smoothing into a polite smile.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t say, Your Highness,” she replied with a serene, ladylike tone.

“The god did state that these events are yet to come, so I’m as uncertain of the meaning as you are.”

The prince’s smile faltered just a fraction, but he nodded. “Of course, thank you for your response.”

He then addressed the room, his voice a stern command that demanded obedience. “Everyone, please remain seated.

Let us wait and see what more is revealed.”

“But, Your Highness—” one of his advisors began to protest, a note of desperation in his tone.

The prince silenced him with a single, steely look, and the advisor promptly sat back down, his mouth snapping shut.

The room fell quiet again, tension thickening as they waited for the screen to reveal what lay ahead.

The screen flickered again, and new words appeared. “I’ll gladly give up my life—”

Cael’s eyes shot wide open. Give up her life? For me? He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Why would this strange woman on the screen, a person he didn’t even know, be willing to sacrifice her life for his sake? Shaking his head, Cael dismissed the thought as impossible.

No one would risk their life for him, not after he’d been discarded by those he’d once trusted, by the very people he’d loved—Helios and Diana.

He had wanted to disappear ever since they’d left him behind.

Still, curiosity gnawed at him, and he found himself scanning the room, searching for the woman from the screen.

When his gaze landed on her—on Hestia—his breath hitched.

She was nodding along with the words as if she truly, wholeheartedly agreed. Could she really mean it?

Meanwhile, Hestia could barely breathe, her heart pounding as she watched her future self on the screen declare her intentions with fierce determination.

I would gladly give up my life for Cael. It was true. He was her favorite character, the one who had brought her comfort and inspiration.

All she wanted was his happiness, even if it meant sacrificing herself.

Suddenly, the woman on the screen cried out, her voice echoing through the room. “SO BRING MY FAVORITE CHARACTER BACK!” Her face contorted with raw emotion, and tears glistened in her eyes as she pleaded with unshakable conviction.

Nothing else matters, her expression seemed to say, only that he is brought back.

The nobles around Hestia exchanged wary looks, whispers spreading like wildfire.

Then, with a brilliant flash, new words appeared on the screen. “Hestia. That was the name of the character I possessed.”

Alongside these words, an image of the woman filled the screen—black hair dark as midnight and eyes a piercing shade of red.

The room erupted.

“ Possessed?! ” a noble shouted, horrified.

“She must be the devil!” someone else cried out, their tone laced with fear.

“Who’s to say she isn’t the one who killed Marquis Cael?” Another voice joined in, stoking the flames of suspicion.

At this, Hestia’s composure finally broke. “ HOW DARE YOU! ” she roared, her voice shaking with fury.

“Don’t you ever dare say something so vile! I would never hurt Cael!” Her fists were clenched, and her face was flushed, but her words left no room for doubt.

She meant every syllable.

Cael’s servant, Euros, felt tears prick at his eyes as he watched her.

Even though he hardly knew her, he could tell—Hestia cared about Cael, and not in a superficial way.

She had a depth of feeling that moved him, and he felt his loyalty to his master extend to her as well.

Suddenly, a powerful voice boomed through the hall, silencing the crowd. “ Who would dare call my child a devil and a murderer? ”

Everyone froze.

The divine voice of God filled the room, heavy with authority, and the nobles who had been so loud just moments before shrank back, their faces pale with fear.

Hestia stood in stunned silence, her mind reeling.

One moment, she had found herself mysteriously back in time; the next, she was thrust into a room to watch her future unfold.

And now… now she had God Himself defending her honor. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’ll give only one warning, and one warning only,” the voice of God thundered, cutting through the room.

“If you dare disrespect my child again, I won’t be as nice as I am now. Understood, mortals?” His words sent a wave of cold fear down every spine, making the room fall utterly silent.

A murmur of anxious agreement swept through the crowd, and the nobles hastily nodded, glancing nervously toward Hestia.

Slowly, the screen resumed, drawing everyone’s attention once more.

‘After falling asleep while binge-reading my favorite novel… I woke up as an extra that didn’t even have a single line in the story,’ the woman’s thoughts narrated, her reflection showing her confused face as she stared at herself in a mirror.

“Novel…?” A nobleman repeated in confusion, the word catching him off guard.

The term sent a wave of unsettled whispers across the room. The crown prince turned toward Hestia, eyes sharp but cautious.

“Lady Hestia, is your future self implying that our world is… a novel?” He kept his princely poise, but his gaze betrayed a hint of unease, the idea both too surreal and too unsettling.

Hestia, maintaining her ladylike grace, responded with a subtle bow of her head.

“Your Highness, I truly cannot answer such a question. I am just as fearful and shocked as everyone else.”

Her voice was calm and measured, her expression a perfect blend of dignified composure and carefully masked surprise.

The prince, visibly uncertain, only nodded, whispering a soft “Very well,” before turning his attention back to the screen.

On the screen, Hestia’s future self looked at her reflection with wonder, her thoughts echoing. “So pretty… but who is she?”

She tilted her head, as if in awe of her own unfamiliar face, her gaze distant. “Perhaps it’s because she held no importance to the plot.”

A noblewoman leaned over to whisper to her friend, her voice laced with dread. “Do you think it could be true? That our world… might be a novel?”

Her friend shook her head, though her voice wavered. “What nonsense… but still…” She trailed off, glancing nervously at Hestia.

The screen continued, now showing Hestia’s future self with a chibi, wide-eyed expression as she stared at an enormous pile of riches, her eyes sparkling with awe.

“H-Holy… what is all this?” Her voice brimmed with wonder, and her expression showed uncontainable excitement.

In the audience, a few nobles murmured in disapproval. “To think, a commoner with no family, no connections, suddenly in possession of such wealth…” one whispered.

The envy was clear in their tone, lips pursed as they watched her on the screen.

Chibi Hestia held up the money with both hands, practically hugging the pile as her real self watched the screen, lips twitching in slight embarrassment.

“Usually when someone gets transported into a novel, they’re meant to change something or interfere with the main plot, right?” her future self mused.

“But I’m just an extra, someone with no real place in the story… so what am I supposed to do?”

Another noblewoman, clearly displeased, lifted her fan and turned to her companions with a scoff.

“If this world is, as she claims, a novel… how did someone like Lady Hestia get so fortunate? Reborn with riches?” She fanned herself briskly, voice laced with envy.

In the hushed murmurs of the crowd, it was clear that this noblewoman’s words reflected the growing unease among them.

They eyed Hestia with a mixture of wariness and jealousy, disliking the notion that a commoner could possess such fortune.

Hestia held her head high, not rising to their bait, but the suspicion in the room was palpable.

She clenched her hands in her lap, keeping her expression calm.

It seemed her very presence was stirring unrest, and she realized the storm that this revelation could unleash—yet she would endure it, just as she’d endured so much before.

Chapter Text

On the screen, Hestia held a small collection of treasures in her hands—a green ruby, a few gold coins, a red pendant, and a handful of small jewels that sparkled under the light.

The nobles in the room couldn’t hide their envy, some of them muttering under their breath.

To them, it was absurd, almost offensive, that a mere commoner could amass such wealth while they, with their high titles and “hard-earned” riches, had to struggle—never mind the underhanded tricks many used to fill their own coffers.

As the nobles exchanged whispers,

Hestia’s thoughts echoed on the screen. “What could I possibly do… with all this wealth… as an extra?”

Before anyone else could react, Diana, the crown princess, rose gracefully to her feet, her expression the picture of poised empathy.

“As someone who was once a commoner myself,” she began, her voice clear and carrying through the hall, “I believe that the money you obtained, Lady Hestia, could be used for the betterment of the people, rather than for selfish gain.”

She finished with a polished smile, as if she had just bestowed a profound truth.

Those around Diana—eager to align themselves with the princess’s favor—quickly chimed in, nodding and praising her “noble” stance.

Yet, in truth, their covetous glances betrayed their true desires; they could all imagine putting that wealth to use… for themselves.

Hestia responded with a polite, ladylike smile, her voice as sweet as honey but with an edge of steel underneath.

“I think that’s a lovely idea, Your Highness.” She forced the words out, all while hiding her true disdain.

‘How can Diana pretend to care for the people, she thought bitterly, when she had no problem discarding Cael, who loved her so purely?’

On the screen, however, Hestia’s future self clearly had different ideas. The image shifted to show her with a wide, delighted grin, throwing handfuls of coins into the air.

The scene sparkled with exaggerated flair, as future Hestia seemed to be reveling in her newfound wealth. “Fangirl over my favorite character, of course!” she thought with sheer enthusiasm.

Cael’s loyal servant, Uros, turned to Hestia with a curious, almost amused smile. “Lady Hestia,” he asked gently, “is it true that the master is your… favorite character?”

Hestia’s reaction was immediate and entirely unguarded. Her eyes grew wide, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she clasped her hands as though physically restraining herself from swooning.

Her lovesick smile made no attempt at hiding her answer, and she gave a fervent nod.

“Of course!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of devotion and awe.

She looked so utterly smitten that when Cael turned in her direction and their eyes met, her heart nearly stopped.

Her cheeks grew warmer, and she felt faint from the mere look he sent her way.

The room went silent, every noble present staring at her with varying degrees of astonishment.

Some looked shocked, others horrified, and a few simply exchanged looks of exasperation, as if all of them shared the same thought.

“Is she mentally sane?” they wondered, struggling to reconcile this love-struck, dramatic young lady with the dignified commoner they’d expected.

Meanwhile, Hestia’s heart beat wildly. Even if she could sense the nobles’ skepticism, she didn’t care.

All that mattered was Cael—and nothing, not even the whispers of the entire court, could lessen her devotion to him.

On the screen, the scene shifted to what looked like a bar, a dimly lit, rowdy place where Hestia stood, a hefty bag of money in her hand as she addressed the scruffy-looking bartender.

“Hey! I don’t care if it’s from a fallen noble family—I want to buy a title!” she declared with fierce determination, slamming the bag of money onto the counter.

The room filled with quiet gasps. Diana, ever the picture of pious sadness, sighed delicately.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured, loud enough for all to hear, “imagine, all that money that could have helped the sick and supported the temple… instead, wasted on a title.”

Her supporters, eager to mirror her disapproval, quickly voiced their agreements, nodding and casting judgmental glances Hestia’s way.

Hestia didn’t hesitate to respond. She fixed Diana with a mournful look of her own, mirroring the princess’s theatrical sadness.

“Your Highness, is it so wrong to want to be a noble as well?” she asked, voice carefully modulated with a trace of melancholy.

“Surely, my future self has more wealth to give to the temple and the sick. But… is it so wrong to wish to indulge, even just once, in something that makes me happy?”

A murmur went through the court, though the crown prince quickly rose to Diana’s defense.

“Lady Hestia, you take this too far,” he chided, looking down at her with barely hidden disdain.

Hestia offered a poised apology, bowing her head. ‘I take it too far? she thought darkly, her smile polite as ever. How far do you take it, forsaking Cael while you play prince and princess with your perfect little Diana?’

On the screen, her future self’s thoughts appeared, revealing her true excitement: I NEED TO GO TO THE BANQUET! THE BANQUET!!!

The bartender gaped at her in confusion. “What are you talking about? Are you out of—”

Before he could finish, a second bag of coins flew at his head, knocking his hat askew.

He straightened it, eyes bulging as he took in the wealth spilling across his counter, and beamed.

“Thank you so much, Lady Hestia!” he exclaimed, nearly bowing in gratitude.

The nobles in the room watched in shocked silence, stunned that Hestia would toss around wealth so casually.

Then, on the screen, a chibi version of Hestia appeared, holding a freshly printed title deed, a proud grin on her face as she thought, I’m a noble now! The bartender appeared beside her in chibi form, thinking with glee, I’m rich!

A noblewoman, her fan snapping shut with an air of disdain, looked down at Hestia.

“Just because you bought a title doesn’t make you a true noble,” she sneered, her tone laced with condescension.

Hestia merely laughed, the sound low and amused, not bothering to dignify the remark with a real response.

The noblewoman’s cheeks flushed, her posture stiffening in irritation.

She couldn’t lash out without risking her reputation—or, worse, God’s wrath—so she was forced to let the slight go.

The scene cut to words scrolling across the screen: With my new title as a noble, I attended countless aristocratic banquets.

A still image showed the back of Helios and Diana as they attended one of these gatherings, standing close, completely absorbed in each other.

Helios pointed at the screen, turning to Diana with a gentle smile. “Look, Diana, it’s us,” he said softly, his eyes filled with affection.

Diana returned his smile, the two sharing a moment that seemed only to strengthen their bond.

Hestia looked on, her expression carefully controlled, though her thoughts were sharp.

So they play at being in love, she thought, masking her distaste, while ignoring my beloved Cael.

On the screen, future Hestia’s thoughts showed up again: Only then could I get a glimpse of them.

A brave nobleman seized the chance to speak up, his voice filled with false courage.

“Are you… stalking His Royal Highness and Her Royal Highness, Lady Hestia? Like some… common creep?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone.

Hestia’s gaze drifted to him, her smile smooth and unaffected.

“Why would I do something so… unladylike?” she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of mocking sweetness.

Her words hung in the air, and the nobleman found himself suddenly silent, his false bravado crumbling under her composed gaze.

Hestia’s poise remained unbroken, but inside, she felt a surge of satisfaction.

Let them wonder what she was truly thinking—she’d let her actions speak louder than any words.