Betrayed at the Empire's Northern Frontline

Yeah, about three years ago? I got possessed into a romance fantasy world out of nowhere. It was a god-tier novel I'd read all the way to completion because of its deep worldbuilding. The story followed a heroine from a fallen noble family who arduously rebuilt her house and rose to become a key power player in the empire. The heroine herself, her rising status, the various romantic interests she built along the way—it all culminated in a pretty solid romance with the male lead.

But of all people, I ended up in the body of an extra whose name no one even knew. Maker. A student who entered the academy at the bottom of the class and graduated at the bottom. Academy graduates were basically civil servants working for the empire. Based on their grades, I got assigned to the most dangerous post imaginable: the department guarding the empire's northern frontline.

I became a sentry on frontline duty and a paperwork drone. Romance? Hope? This wasn't some fluffy romance fantasy—it was gritty, dark fantasy reality.

Thanks to the knowledge already in Maker's head, I'd survived this long. I built on that knowledge, honing a specialty perfectly suited to this place. Flashy, powerful abilities for racking up visible achievements? No. These were skills for my survival.

Necromancer. On the surface, it's dark magic that raises corpses as summons. It looks flashy and mighty, but it's the exact opposite—full of restrictions, so most people avoid it. You need corpses, and there's the stench, the disposal issues, all that. But on the empire's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠frontline, where death is a daily occurrence? Necromancy was perfect.

I revived the dead to stand in for guards. It saved money, which we could redirect elsewhere. My exploits and that efficiency led to quick promotions, and now...

"Maker, sir. Here's the budget proposal for this quarter."

The empire's harsh north. The ragged edge of the empire's walls and territories—I'd become the manager defending them. No noble wanted to govern this brutal, barren land battered by relentless cold. Here, I was as good as the emperor himself. Not some tyrant, of course—I ruled like a dutiful one, fulfilling my obligations.

"Hmm... Like last time, it feels like the budget's shrinking again?"

The empire covered about 15 percent, with the rest from nearby territories. But for some reason, those contributions had started dwindling.

"What's the reason? Don't they know how hard we work out here?"

The people gathered in the meeting room exchanged uneasy glances. They knew something, that much was clear.

"Spit it out. What is it?"

"Well... There's this new lady rising to power in the north who says investing here is inefficient..."

"She says from now on, they'll handle things themselves..."

"Truth is..."

As everyone hemmed and hawed, Prana, seated to my right, spoke up boldly. She'd been my loyal aide for years. Today, her face was grave, as if she'd made a tough decision. She rose slowly from her seat and met my eyes squarely.

"A new rising star in the north has emerged, sir. Lady Irene of the Helia family, who fell but has risen again."

Irene of the Helia family. Hearing that name jogged a forgotten memory. I'd been possessed into a romance fantasy world. Irene was the novel's protagonist—the heroine. I hadn't expected to hear about her so suddenly.

I stared at Prana. Everyone else was watching us nervously; something was definitely up.

"That lady wants to actively promote me. She promised double the current support if I become manager."

"......"

The room turned ice-cold in an instant. I thought I'd misheard. But the heavy silence confirmed it.

What the hell was this bolt from the blue?

"Why? What's your connection to Lady Irene?"

"That's a secret. Anyway, don't you barely do any work, sunbae?"

"......"

I don't do any work? Stunned by the absurdity, I was hit with even more nonsense. Reading my expression, she must've thought she'd struck a nerve. Seizing the moment, Prana pressed on.

"When you get the budget, you spend it on the commoners inside these walls. Is that even possible? This is the brutal, freezing north. We're struggling ourselves—why keep supporting beggars?"

She demanded an answer. Spotting my opening, I counterattacked. I'd explain exactly how I'd defended this frontline with my abilities, how I'd cut costs, why I supported the people.

"If there are no people in this barren land, the empire has no reason to fund it. And there's that rugged mountain range nearby, right? We mine it."

Having read the novel, I knew this area was resource-rich. I'd taken in vagrants and slash-and-burn farmers with clean records, building safe facilities and developing the mines. Using that manpower, I'd created a reserve force for the frontline, easing the soldiers' burden. Revenue from the mines, plus spoils from battles, had turned this place into a livable village.

Once a village forms, people settle. More people means more defenders. That's how I'd governed successfully. Short on budget? I'd made it self-sustaining.

And now they wanted me gone—just like that? For Prana to take over?

"Go on, refute that. Think you can manage this place better than me?"

"......"

I listed my achievements. Everyone went silent as the grave. I thought I'd won, but Prana pulled an ornate document from her bosom. She handed it over wordlessly, but her expression screamed checkmate—total confidence she'd oust me.

Reading it, I understood why.

I thought it was a joke at first. But seeing the imperial seal, I glared at her.

"Now you get it, right, sunbae? This is reality."

Everyone had signed. In other words, they wanted Prana as the new manager.

"Go on, everyone—give me your reasons."

Prana shrugged and prompted them. One by one, they spoke up.

"Uh... Honestly, the pay's too low..."

"No matter how dutiful we are, if Prana-sunbae becomes manager, our salaries double."

"We deserve at least that much."

In the end, it was all about money. But it was absurd. I'd shouldered the hardest, dirtiest work: defending against monster and raids, handling the corpses. Thanks to my necromancy, shifts were lighter, survival rates higher. They should be grateful for that alone... and yet, for money?

I was speechless. My loyalty to these subordinates who'd flipped for cash evaporated.

And Irene's signature was on the consent form too—blatantly backing Prana.

"......"

My head throbbed. I pressed my temple against the sudden migraine. All my hard work for the people and empire, caring for those around me—it felt like it was crumbling in an instant. My chest tightened, my head crushed by pain. Betrayal didn't even cover it; it was worse. Everything I'd built was too precious to lose.

Appealing to the empire would take too long, and even if approved, no one here would listen anyway. But oddly... a corner of my mind felt relieved. I'd done well in this harsh, dangerous place, but the budget shortages and my limits were showing. Given the threats to the empire? Leaving now might be best.

Not cowardice or bad timing—I'd planned to stay till the end. But Prana struck first? Any fallout later would be on her. She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was probably eyeing my achievements. But this territory was one step from being a poisoned chalice. I'd just extract my personal investments and bail.

Honestly, I'd prepared for what came next. But it hinged on me, the necromancer, being there.

Fine. What was there to think about? My loyal subordinates had ditched me for a pay bump.

I scowled, feigning disgust.

"Just accept it gracefully, sunbae."

Prana brimmed with confidence; not one gaze was on my side.

"Hoo... Fine. If that's what you want, I'll step down. No handover needed, right?"

"Yes. Out of respect for our time together, we'll prepare your things and final pay so you can leave tomorrow."

"How thoughtful. Truly."

And so, I left the territory—and the empire's northern frontline—I'd grown attached to over years. Shaking off the dirty betrayal, I set off with my savings for a fresh start.

A week passed. I'd prepared for the crises and disasters ahead.

"Extra! Extra! Monster waves hitting the empire's east, west, south, and northern frontlines!"

Today, a newsboy dashed through the streets shouting. People gasped, murmuring in shock; the town plunged into chaos.

Yes—the pandemonium I'd foreseen had begun. It had finally arrived.

For the record, I'd read the entire novel. I knew how this world turned, who became heroes, what would skyrocket. Extra or not, it was my time to shine.

Oh, right—by now, Prana, allied with the heroine who'd gotten me exiled, must be in a panic.

"Master. Thank you; I ate well."

In my inn room, a woman thanked me after finishing bread and soup. Long golden blonde hair, blue eyes, stunning beauty. Her white robe gave her an air of nobility. By the story's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lore, she was a slave now—but later, she'd become a revered Saintess, the heroine's key ally. Originally suffering under another owner, she was mine now.

I planned to raise her right, turning her into a heroine loyal only to me.

'Time to get started, then?'

It was time to make my mark—not as manager, but as the necromancer Maker.