Exile and the Start
“Chris, you’re expelled from the party.”
Golden hair flowed softly down.
Even the contempt in his eyes, peeking through his bangs, was calmly subdued.
Edelic, the hero chosen by the kingdom’s sacred treasure, the Holy Sword.
His words were as concise as ever, without a hint of hesitation.
Chris stared at him silently for a moment.
Then she let out a very small sigh.
Sigh. Finally kicking me out...
She—more precisely, the early-20s Korean woman Jin Hamin who had possessed “Chris’s” body—had been waiting for this exact moment.
Ever since about a week ago, right after the possession.
The Hero’s Tale of the Flophouse Vagabond
A web novel that had once graced the main page of a platform, only to have its comments section turn into a dumpster fire over complaints that the revenge plot felt half-baked.
Jin Hamin had been a reader of that novel.
More accurately, one of the haters spewing vitriol.
‘Called it satisfying revenge, but what’s this shit? My blood pressure’s through the roof from frustration.’
‘Protagonist’s such a fucking pushover, and you simps eat it up?’
‘Expulsion revenge story, my ass—drags like a limp dick.’
She’d never imagined she’d end up inside the very novel she’d trashed while bleary-eyed from pulling night shifts at a convenience store.
But possessing “Chris” was a silver lining amid the misfortune.
Because Chris was the protagonist of the expulsion revenge arc.
The hero party’s baggage handler.
Mixing healing potions, packing gear, standing night watch, securing supply routes...
The one who patched up the party from the rear during every battle, only for all the credit to go to the others.
Her devotion was taken for granted, and any complaints branded as ingratitude.
Jin Hamin... now Chris... gave a bitter smile inwardly.
Just like I pictured it.
Standing beside Edelic were the party’s key members.
The healing saintess averted her eyes, the mage crossed her arms like it was a hassle, and the beastkin archer turned away, pretending not to notice.
It matched the early original scene to a T, and Chris felt her tension finally easing.
After all she’d endured just to hold out this long.
Chris bowed her head briefly, then lifted it.
There was no anger or sadness on her face.
Edelic frowned at the unnatural detachment.
“Chris, any last words?”
She pretended to mull it over for a second before opening her mouth.
“Nah, nothing.”
A flat response.
If anything, that made it weirder, and a subtle silence rippled through the party.
But Jin Hamin... Chris... knew full well.
This moment was the story’s true starting line.
Abandoned here, cast out here...
And from here, shit gets good!
As a reader who knew the novel’s ending, Chris already had the next beats mapped out.
How miserably this party would crumble after ditching her.
And the faces they’d make when they came crawling back later.
In other words, she’d already won half the game.
Now we’re talking proper expulsion revenge.
Classic “regret,” “ruin,” “obsession” route. Just you wait.
Chris wrapped it up in her mind like that and quietly turned her back.
Even after leaving the party, Chris wandered the capital’s streets for a while.
To be precise, she had to keep walking.
The moment she was expelled, this body was no longer affiliated with the adventurer’s guild or the hero party as support staff.
Her dorm access was revoked, and the supply bags she’d carried were left with the party.
In short, she was flat broke, with no place to crash or return to.
Yet Chris’s steps were so light she was practically whistling.
“Hmm~ hm hm hmm~”
Because, knowing the original story, this situation was her starting line.
The hero party’s downfall?
That’ll happen on its own without me lifting a finger.
Chris had mapped the supply routes, handled all potion mixing, and stood solo night watch.
Strip that away entirely?
Go on, strut around like hot shit and crash hard.
Chris plopped down on a plaza bench and mentally mapped her next moves.
Two priorities right now.
A hidden piece for powering up.
And whether she’d have a companion to tackle the upcoming labyrinth arcs.
“...A companion, huh.”
The original “Chris” hadn’t trusted the word.
Dedication got exploited, trust repaid with betrayal.
That’s why she’d ended up drifting, unaffiliated, until she met someone.
A bond forged in shared outcast vibes.
And in a fantasy world? No reason to pass on that romance.
High elf lineage, perfect-shot longbow user, a proven powerhouse kicking into gear mid-story.
Isadora Edelin!
The issue wasn’t her specs—it was her personality.
“Humans? Can’t trust ’em...”
A trait hammered home multiple times in the original.
Rush in blindly? Forget favorability—instant shutdown.
Persuasion? Sweet-talk? Help?
All backfire.
The original “Chris” connected with her only because they were both discarded.
Belonging nowhere, accepted by no one.
The possessed Chris had to follow that flow.
Twist the original early and tank the relationship? Game over.
Chris stood and pivoted direction.
“She should be around by now, right?”
Isadora was definitely at the adventurer’s guild.
Stubborn as she was, too proud to ask for help, probably pacing a corner.
Yeah, that’s why.
When Chris stepped into the guild hall, she tilted her head.
“...Huh? What the hell?”
The scene that should’ve been there... wasn’t.
No lone elf glaring daggers at the quest board...
No prideful beauty shoving humans away with wary eyes.
Instead, a light green-haired elf was chasing some black-haired brat.
“Hey, wait up! Just stop for a sec!”
The kid looked middle-school age by modern standards...
Whatever, who cares.
The scrawny boy in baggy cloak darted nimbly through the crowd.
That proud Isadora, openly causing a ruckus like this?
Chris halted and watched the spectacle.
“This is insane.”
Too big a deviation to chalk up to a minor variable.
Either the plot had diverged from the original—or this wasn’t the same world at all.
...Table it for now.
Chris concluded as much.
Maybe she’d put too much blind faith in the original.
A single tiny detail shift could derail the whole flow.
Yeah. Switch up the order.
Plans had to be flexible.
Especially for the opening move.
So, who to target first?
Chris pulled up a mental timeline.
No major incidents had popped yet.
Key was someone she could plant seeds with—buy goodwill even without immediate recruitment.
Soon, a scene from the original flashed in her mind.
A petite shadow slipping from nobles at a social gala, nose-deep in a thick tome.
No battlefield scars, yet more passionate about hero biographies than anyone.
Not swayed by power or schemes, blind to grand causes or politics.
A pure otaku craving just one good story.
Mirabel Lloyd, youngest daughter of the kingdom’s four great ducal houses.
Chris knew exactly which book that hardcore fangirl was missing.
Chronicles of the Hero Reinhardt... Vol. 1 (Upper)
Luckily, it wasn’t buried treasure—easy to snag without hassle.
The story just never spotlighted it.
But that overlooked trinket could be a trump card, depending on use.
Say, to hook a simping noble girl.
“Damn, even I gotta say I’m a genius.”
Chris grinned smugly and bolted from her seat.
“Just reordered the steps, that’s all.”
Truth was, skipping Isadora for now wouldn’t shake the board.
Think of it as a brief detour.
Besides, the original her wouldn’t obsess long over some human kid.
Seemed like a wildcard now, but it’d snap back to canon eventually.
Opportunities always circled back...
Chris strode off with that conviction.