On a night when a white crescent moon cast silver across the desert sands, six carts transporting prisoners creaked slowly over the golden, dragon-fin-like sand basin. Each wheel created ripples as if painting artificial waves on the desert floor.
Inside the wagons sat captives draped in tattered rags.
Rustle… shuffle…
For a while, the only sounds were camel hooves brushing against the sand and the soft clattering of the wagons.
Thud!
Something hit hard.
“Ugh…”
A girl groaned, squeezing her eyes.
She had dozed off, nodding along with the wagon’s sway, and bumped her head against the wooden post.
She reached out to touch the aching back of her head, but an alien sensation made her hand pause.
‘Huh? Why can’t I move my hand?’
Cold metal bit into her wrists.
Clang.
Looking down, she saw her pale, slender wrists tightly bound.
Panic surged. She lifted her head, scanning the unfamiliar, desolate landscape.
“What is all this?”
She muttered, and a sharp, icy voice cut her off.
“Ivyn Kinzell! Sit still!”
“W-what did you just—”
She was about to complain when a young nobleman tied beside her leaned closer and whispered in a hurry.
“You shouldn’t be making a fuss here, Miss. Stay put and wait. Your brothers will come to rescue you soon.”
“…Brothers?”
“Sit still! Prisoners, keep your distance from each other!”
Bang! Bang! A soldier struck the wagon post with a club. The young noble beside her ducked instantly.
She wanted to ask more, but the soldier’s bark forced her lips shut.
“…”
Whoosh-
The desert wind, coarse with sand, brushed her face. She blinked, dazed, then slowly pieced together what had just happened.
‘Okay… so I had lunch and went back to the office… then at the intersection, a dump truck came too close and…’
Crash!
A tremendous impact rattled her ears.
‘Everything went black, and…
‘Wait. Does that mean I’m—dead?!’
Ha…
The girl’s bitter laugh scattered into the night sky.
‘Worked myself to the bone like a slave, but my life’s over at 26…
‘Does this even make sense?!’
She remembered the silly office chant she and her colleagues used to repeat.
“Release these office workers trapped in injustice and long hours! Free us!”
‘Unless something is seriously wrong with the universe, how could this even happen?!’
The “release” she mentioned was supposed to mean gaining financial freedom and dramatically handing in her resignation at the company, but…
‘But instead of gaining freedom from the company, I was released from EARTH entirely?’
An imaginary notification sound rang in her ear as if a system window suddenly would pop up and say:
System: You have been [released] from [your current life]
The young nobleman’s whispering caught her attention.
“Miss Ivyn, please wait a little longer. Just a little…”
“What the heck have you been telling me to wait for this whole time?”
Something was off. Both the knight and this man kept calling her by that specific name.
‘Wait, wait… Ivyn?’
The unfamiliar name lingered in her mind like she’d heard it before.
Then it hit her.
“Wait… isn’t that the name of that extra character in the romance novel I was reading, Sand Flows Continuously?”
Ivyn Kinzell.
In the novel, she was the youngest daughter of the Kinzell necromancer family—a spoiled, highborn lady with a massive, grizzly-bear-like father and six brooding sons.
Her role? A reckless catalyst for war between the Holy State and the Kinzell Duchy.
After being captured by the Holy Country and dying in prison, her death sparked a massive war.
And her last words were:
“You damn heretics! May the sacred freeze and rot! If you’re holy, then I’m your precious goddess Flulla! Kghh—ptooey!”
Thus, she exited the original story, leaving behind an unforgettable impression, keeping the same unruly temper she had always had.
Situation assessed.
‘In a word—I lived a brief life, died, and transmigrated into a rofan novel.
‘Inside the body of an extra who is also short-lived…
‘If I’m going to transmigrate, why not as the saintess falling in love with the handsome paladin? Why am I not the heroine? Why Ivyn Kinzell?!’
As she gazed at the fortress walls approaching, a scene from the novel flashed:
—Ivyn, captured, resisted violently. She bent to no one. But after brutal torture and harsh treatment, she met her death in a cold cell…
‘Wait… what comes next is… “brutal torture and harsh treatment”?!’
Before she could think rationally, Ivyn was already shouting.
“P-please! Spare me! I’m really not Ivyn Kinzell! I’ve possessed this body!”
Thud—bang-bang.
She hit her head against the wooden post.
‘No! This is a dream! A dream!’
“I’m sorry for asking to be freed from the company! I’ll take it back! Please!”
Suddenly, the sound of the reins tightening rang from the front.
A paladin in a red cloak rushed toward the rear.
“Ivyn Kinzell.”
As she lifted her head to meet the paladin, sacred music filled her ears.
Shalala~
“Ah…”
Her mind went completely blank.
A straight forehead, strong brows, and below them, a well-defined, sharp nose.
From his forehead to the tip of his chin, a continuous, delicate, and graceful curve.
His jet-black hair was neatly combed, and somehow it matched his white armor perfectly—as if the armor had been tailor-made just for him.
‘Yes… definitely, the male lead.’
Ivyn nodded with conviction, gazing at the male lead’s literally holy face.
Every feature of this paladin screamed: I am the male lead.
The choir’s voices ringing in her head didn’t seem to fade. It was as if she were wearing noise-canceling earbuds… with every other sound around her gradually fading out.
“You are… the male lead, Theodore… right?”
She muttered. Theodore’s left eyebrow lifted slightly.
“You really are handsome…”
Another weirdo? The soldier beside Theodore shared his thoughts.
But Theodore only stared at her in silence.
“It would be best to put her to sleep until we reach our destination,” he said at last, his voice sharp.
A swift hand motion scattered glowing motes of holy energy.
“Wow…”
‘Is this what they call divine power?’
Ivyn stared, mesmerized, until drowsiness washed over her.
“Wuuuaahmm…”
A tingling, electric sensation spread through her body like a wave sweeping over her, and soon her eyelids sank under an irresistible weight.
After another jaw-stretching yawn, she stretched out like a cat, then folded her hands beneath her pale cheeks and lay down on the floor.
“Reading it was one thing… but seeing him in person… he’s even more hands—” she muttered in a drowsy voice.
Drifting into a deep sleep, she wished she’d awaken next not as Ivyn Kinzell, but as Saintess Pavella, the heroine destined for a passionate love story with Theodore.
╭══ ≪ •❈• ≫ ══╮
“…She’s lying around as if this were her own home. Unbelievable.”
“Let’s leave while she’s quiet. Who knows what chaos she’ll cause if she wakes up?”
“You saw her earlier, too, right? Smashing her head against the wagon—she’s tough, I’ll give her that.”
“Such a waste of a face… almost as pretty as Saintess Pavella.”
“Watch your words! That kind of blasphemous talk will get you in trouble!”
The paladins exchanged words as they looked at Ivyn, slumped asleep and tightly bound to a chair. Throwing her one last contemptuous glance, they left her behind in a solitary cell.
Who knows how much time passed after that?
Snrk! With the sound of a snore, Ivyn stirred awake.
“Oh… it was a dream, huh?”
She tried to stretch—
Clink.
“?!”
Her hands were still bound.
“What the—! Why am I still tied up?!”
At that moment…
Clatter-
Tp-tp-tp. Steps echoed closer.
The heavy iron door slowly opened.
Screech-
Bright light streamed through the gap, illuminating the cell.
Hi everyone! I’ve just started translating The Youngest Daughter of the Infamous Necromancer Family (thank you, Seria, for the awesome suggestion♥). I’m really excited to share this story with you! To keep going, I’ll need to unlock more raws, so if you’d like to support and help me keep translating, you can support me on my Ko-fi here☕. Everything’d go straight into raws to keep sharing this and other amazing stories! Even the smallest support helps a ton and keeps me motivated! Thank you so much!♥
