I Reject the villain’s ending.

Episode 2.1

I am the black cloud that will destroy the country]

How many people can open their eyes and accept that they are lying in a coffin?

When you wake up and see people looking at you,

“Oh, my God, the dead saint is alive again! Everybody run!’

How many of us have had the experience of seeing someone running down the hall, ready to break down the door?

I went through it all at once. It was amazing.

“There’s something even more amazing than that.”

I don’t remember much of it, but I died and came back to life.

“I don’t want to die, no way. I’ll admit I was abused as a child, but I’m not going to risk my life to ruin Fix.

And then you have a memory of a previous life?

That this is the world of a novel I read in a previous life?

And that I was reincarnated as the villain and heroine of that novel?

I stared out the window, my pale blonde hair hanging long over my shoulders, muttering to myself, then sighed softly.

“Ha.”

“…….”

“Ha ha.”

“…….”

“Whoa.”

The man sitting across me put down his quill pen, removed his silver-rimmed glasses from his desk, and spoke up with a hint of irritation.

“What’s the matter again this time?”

“Phew.”

“…….”

When there was no reply, the man ran a hand through his pale pink hair and reached out to tap the desk in front of me.

“My lady.”

“My lord, what do you think it would be like to know your future?”

The man said nothing as he watched me blurt out the question.

I hadn’t asked for an answer in the first place, so I mumbled, still staring blankly at the blue sky and the white buildings outside.

“What if your future is to be the black cloud that engulfs this country, and we’re already in the midst of it?”

“Is that your future hope?”

The man asked in a serious voice, tilting his head back with a slight frown.

He was right, I was human enough to be in front of him.

“You’ve been quiet lately, but you’re up to your old habits again, and this time you’re going to kill someone.”

“No, nothing like that.”

I shook my head in denial, but the man’s serious expression didn’t lift.

“Saint, out of loyalty, I tell you, you shouldn’t kill people so easily.”

“I know that, and I’m not going to kill you now, never.”

Good. I’m not going to kill anyone anymore.

Sierra is a beautiful saint with wispy pale blond hair and eyes like blue glass beads.

She was a wicked woman with a vicious temper and a penchant for destroying anything and anyone who got in her way.

‘God’s only stain, a bloodthirsty saint.

That’s me.

That’s what I’ve always been, and that’s what I’ll always be.

If it was’t for the memories of my past life coming back to haunt me.

“You know, my lord.”

“Tell me.”

“What are the odds that this world I live in is from a novel I read in a previous life and that I’m the villainous protagonist everyone fears?”

At my question, the light pink-haired man turned serious and spoke quietly with a serious air.

“Saint.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder if you’d like to show your head to the senator. I think you’ve been coming back from the dead and have a head problem.”

“Saint.”

“Yes.”

“I think you should show your head to the senator. I think he’s been having head problems since he came back from the dead.”

“…….”

“First of all, it’s strange that a saint would use honorifics for people. She doesn’t usually do that.”

The cotton candy man in front of me was right, my behavior was not what it used to be.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me that, I knew it myself.

“People change when they die and come back to life.”

Sighing with a non-excuse, I closed the book I’d left open half-read and turned my head back to the window.

“Ha.”

“No, why this book, of all the books!

In my previous life, when I was Kim Sowon, there was a popular web novel called Crazy Saintess.

It was about a perverse protagonist who was born as an illegitimate child of an earl and was abused, then became a saint and rose in status.

It was a dark, perhaps even depressing novel.

The protagonist, whose personality was twisted by the abuse she suffered as a child, thought to herself.

“I’m going to destroy this empire that treats people like dogs and pigs based on their status, and I’m going to do it as the lowest of the low.

And he did. He did.

He killed all the emperors, crown princes, and members of the imperial court with all sorts of tricks, spared the young prince, turned him into a puppet emperor, and wielded him around.

Needless to say, all the loyalists were killed in the process.

Inquisition raged, corruption was rampant, and the people complained of illness.

‘That’s enough to make you crazy, but the problem is…….’

In the end, the country is ruined, the angry people and the three guardians of the temple join forces, the rebellion succeeds, the main character’s head is cut off, and the novel ends.

Of course, the author got a lot of flak from readers for writing a dead ending, and more flak for condensing the process into two paragraphs.

One of those readers, of course, was me.

“Anyway. So, who’s the shadowy protagonist that destroyed the country…….”

That’s me. My future, to be exact.

And this pretty, light pink-haired, mauve-eyed man in front of me is the ‘sword’ of the guardians of the temple who will slit my throat.

“Ha.”

I sighed heavily, giving up on the thought, and Iros frowned.

“Why are you sighing at the sight of my face, Saint.”

“Because you are so beautiful.”

“Another patronizing remark.”

Another sigh escaped my lips as I realized that he was more concerned about me using respectful language than he was about me calling me pretty.

What’s my life going to be like now, reincarnated as a black-and-white protagonist who gets decapitated in a dead ending?

“Pink, you look beautiful,” I sighed, “what’s wrong? You got a problem?”

“You look like yourself, thank goodness you’re not ill.”

The genuine relief on her face made me feel even more hopeless. If I’d known this would happen, I would have killed in moderation and been nice.

I sobbed to myself, squirmed, and then slumped down on my desk, my face peeking out from between my arms, and looked up at Iros and asked.

“Don’t you feel bad that I call you Pink, which isn’t even your name, and treat you like a dog every time?”

“I’d rather you treated me like a dog and didn’t get in an accident instead.”

“…….”

So, you’re used to being treated like a dog, are you saying?

Or are you saying that I’m so bad at being treated like a dog that you’d better go away?

Probably a little bit of both.

“Pink.”

“Yes, saint.”

“It’s so hard to make a living.”

“……?”

The man looks at me like that’s a load of bollocks.

Certainly not the words that would come out of Sierra’s mouth, or mine, where she’d smash anything in her path without a care in the world.

“Pink, hands.”