Lilithia ultimately didn’t summon Fiore.

If she called him for something like this… what would that make her? And what could Fiore even do? Comfort her?

No. This was hers to face alone. She’d killed someone.

She didn’t know if he was good or evil, or how he’d been tainted by Demonfolk power. But in that instant, she *had* to kill him.

Gagging against the nausea, Lilithia dug a shallow grave. She dragged the body in, then gathered dry branches. Clearing a firebreak to prevent forest flames, she lit the pyre.

Silently, she watched the fire consume him. An apology and thanks to this nameless stranger.

*I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.*

*Thank you for being the first life I took in this world.*

She saw it as growth. For an ordinary girl transmigrated from Earth, this was a true turning point—a moment that would reshape her entire existence.

Life was no longer sacred to her. It was something tangible. Something killable. Something manipulable.

This was why killers often struck again. After crossing that line, boundaries blurred.

Once you’d ended a life, insults and violence felt trivial. When you’d erased a being just like yourself… reverence for all things faded.

Left? Kill them. Right? Be killed.

Alone in the dense forest, Lilithia tasted this bitter truth. She’d thought she didn’t care about this world’s people. Yet killing a stranger sparked guilt.

She’d assumed slaughtering NPCs would only bring physical discomfort. Now she admitted it: she couldn’t ignore them.

Even across worlds, she felt pity.

Humans were truly weak.

A true mastermind would’ve drained his blood without hesitation. Lilithia knew it—same-race blood absorbed easiest. His level surpassed hers; his blood might’ve pushed her to Mage-tier mana.

But she burned him instead.

Lilithia faced the aftermath silently. She realized she needed only one last condition. Once she became a Mage, she’d leave the academy.

Forge-master enclaves. Freelance adventuring. Imperial battlefronts. She held the ticket now.

A ticket to face this world’s cruelty.

All she needed was barely enough strength to survive.

*Lilithia… Lilithia… You can do this. You will.*

Exhausted, she dragged herself back to her room—and froze. Slumping against the doorframe, she sank to her knees.

“Come to punish me? Go ahead.”

Inside stood Lisanna. Lilithia knew her well: Fiore’s childhood friend.

That pure white hat—undoubtedly a gift from Fiore. To him, just a token between friends. To her? Likely something more.

Women like her rarely matched their curves in generosity. Of course she’d come knocking.

Lilithia surrendered resistance.

“You knew better. Why reach for what isn’t yours?” This woman would play the wise elder sister before Fiore, lecturing him on virtue. If she were the true heroine, she’d soften during his darkest hour, offering comfort to win his heart.

But with other women? Her true colors bled through.

She wouldn’t let Lilithia go tonight.

Still, Lilithia wouldn’t go quietly. Fighting was impossible—anyone fighting beside Fiore was at least a Saint, if not an Archmage or Grand Archmage. Time for words.

She sighed. “So *you’re* why Fiore’s spirit is broken.”

Just as Lilithia predicted, Lisanna’s expression flickered. “What did you say?!”

Invisible force yanked Lilithia off the floor, suspending her midair. She feigned calm despite the fear.

“I said,” Lilithia pressed, “no wonder Fiore looked so hollow. Seeing you? Now I know why.”

Pressure crushed her chest. Breathing turned ragged.

“I thought you had manners. But you’re just a commoner, aren’t you? I could crush you like glass. Do you understand?”

“Sure, sure. I’m commonborn. But you say that like Fiore isn’t.”

“!”

Lisanna’s face twisted. She hurled Lilithia down. Dizzy and aching, Lilithia gasped on the floor.

“Fiore is the Glorious Duke’s son! He only grew up in a common home due to an accident years ago!”

“That’s not how *I* see it. It’s how *Fiore* sees himself. Does he consider himself noble? Or common? And why were you his childhood friend? Wasn’t it opportunistic? You—or your family—knew his true status. You latched on.”

“Lies!”

Lilithia flew backward, slamming into the wall.

*Damn this bitch. No way she’s the protagonist.* Her rotten core showed plainly. If this were a story, the heroine wouldn’t be her.

“Is this noble refinement?” Lilithia wheezed, clutching her ribs. “Can’t stomach harsh truths? Ignore reality, and tragedies will repeat.”

The words struck like ice. Lisanna froze, face stormy. “He told you… about that?”

“Who knows?” Lilithia rubbed her aching stomach, mourning her ruined dinner plans. Internal injuries would need days of bitter medicine.

She met Lisanna’s eyes. “I don’t know your past. But I know this: among the women he’s known, someone betrayed him. And he discovered it.”

“You’re cunning. Clever. Without interference, you’d have claimed him by now.” Lilithia watched Lisanna’s flinch—confirmation.

“So what shattered your plan? What made Fiore uncover your secret? That you approached him with an agenda.”

“That was before! I—I truly love him now!”

“Stop!” Lilithia surged forward. Though shorter, she loomed over Lisanna, relentless. “Maybe you realized your feelings later. You still think he’ll forgive you. That time will heal everything. That he’ll trust you again.”

“…”

“Weak people believe that. But Fiore? He’s strong. He moves forward without glancing back. Without you, other girls surround him.”

Lilithia delivered the cruel truth: “A liar who lost his trust? How can she win? Everyone who knows Fiore understands—he’ll forgive you. He’ll even accept your scolding, admit fault, treat you like a respected elder sister. But not because of *your* charm, Lisanna.”

She used her name deliberately. “Because he’s the *sun*. He shines equally on all. He forgives gently. But…” Lilithia’s voice dropped, raw. “He’s also *human*. Not your perfect prince. He feels pain from criticism. Joy from praise. Flustered excitement around girls. Before being your ideal childhood friend, he’s a *person*. And you? You never saw him as human. You erased his humanity. Even if every girl around him died—if all vanished—you’d never be his choice.”

“Because you’re a liar. Because you never saw the *real* him.”

Like a death sentence. Though vastly stronger, Lisanna shrank back, trembling. She collapsed onto Lilithia’s bed.

Lilithia approached.

She leaned over Lisanna. Silver hair spilled onto golden strands as she whispered near her ear: “Be grateful to me, Lisanna. Without me, you’d meet a tragic end. Ponder my words tonight… and you might still have a chance.”

Blood Transmutation activated.

A single drop of Lisanna’s blood floated into Lilithia’s palm. “Consider this payment. We never met tonight. Agreed?”

Lisanna didn’t resist.

Lilithia rose.

Whistling, she began preparing dinner. Internal injuries could wait—her mood had lifted. She even offered to the dazed woman still staring at the ceiling: “Stay for dinner? I cook well.”

“N-no… thank you…”

Lisanna struggled up. With a twist of her wrist, she tore open a spatial rift. Stepping through, she vanished.

*Space teleportation?!*

*That powerful?*

*So cool.*

Lilithia envied that magic.