I'm Not the Villain!
There’s nothing quite as thrilling as a twist in a novel. The masked character unmasks to reveal a beauty. The dying old man turns out to be the world’s strongest. Characters you thought were dead for good make a comeback at the crucial moment to carry the team. It’s always like that, right? No way it’ll end up like this. The dopamine rush after all that tension. Is there anything more fun?
“In the world...”
But I don’t find it fun.
The orphanage director who secretly sacrificed children to the Evil God.
The crime I’d possessed was way too high difficulty.
“Director, we’re heading out.”
“...No response?”
“She must be working. Let’s not disturb her and go.”
“Yeah. They say there’s a ghost in the director’s office.”
Save me, kids.
Damn it. Morse code! Help! No Morse code here, huh.
Once more commonly known as the punishment room, the orphanage director’s office now echoed with a frail scream. That was me.
Children’s voices came from outside the door, but no one picked up on my desperate signals.
This room has crap insulation but perfect soundproofing. How does that even make sense?
Maybe bolting out right now would boost my survival rate. As I agonized over it, a voice stopped me cold.
“Hey, Luagwen.”
The voice carried weight. Like when Mom, who usually called me “our son,” suddenly dropped my full name, making me shrink back.
My body reacted instinctively to the voice calling my name in this life—“Tisha Luagwen”—bowing without a word.
“...!”
And as if to prove that judgment right, a crushing thud sounded overhead.
That repair bill’s gotta be...!
Today’s magic (loss: 200,000 gold) had flown away again. Lunch service canceled...!
“Kiara... Could you call me Director instead of banmal?”
“No kids around, so drop the disgusting act.”
Through the dust from the magic, a girl’s figure emerged. Her aura was murderous, but after a few times, you get used to it.
As proof, I used to tremble, but now I could stay calm, hiding my fluster and talking steadily. I was like Oh Eun-young.
“O-oh, what’s it today?”
“That’s what I want to say.”
The kid had already prepped her next spell. Pure genius talent.
Her name was Kiara Rostyra, glaring at me with arrogant eyes. She looked about fourteen. Unlike rowdy peers, her overly neat clothes and stern expression evoked a soldier more than a child.
And that flashy silver hair screaming “I’m extraordinary.” Far from ordinary.
“Kiara. Why not go play outside like the other kids...”
Live a little normally too.
“Sorry, but I’ve aged plenty.”
“...Sigh.”
...Then act more ladylike.
I couldn’t voice the last part. I needed to live long too.
Kiara’s confidence would be dismissed as bravado in another kid. But I couldn’t retort because, one, the spell that just whizzed over my head was an unknown magic not yet revealed “at this point in time.” And two, I’d known this kid’s name long before.
Why do all regressors have no brakes...
The protagonist of the novel I’d read in my past life. The Lady Who Lives Four Times, Kiara Rostyra.
By physiognomy, the girl who’d later be adopted by the Duke of Rostyra was on her third regression now.
“Today, I’ll end it for sure.”
Unlike her youthful face, her threat held no hesitation. Magic circles soon threatened me, ready to trigger.
“Um, could you... clear the magic circle a bit?”
“Stuttering? Must be guilty.”
“No...”
Anyone would stutter facing death. Especially with flames spewing from the circle.
But 21st-century common sense didn’t fly here. Barbarian.
“One question.”
“Clear it first, then talk.”
“Why no movement past the scheduled date?”
Kiara pulled a bundle of papers from her bosom and tossed them down. Sealed, so definitely a letter from someone.
“This is...”
“Don’t play dumb. From the bottom drawer you keep locked.”
I couldn’t even open that without a key.
“Not falling for it this life. Spill it.”
“Well, see...”
Where to even start.
Kiara’s actions made sense. If she was the protagonist overcoming adversity, I—original Luagwen—was the villain. An irredeemable baddie sacrificing orphanage kids to the Evil God.
After three betrayals, starting with a beatdown on the fourth was common sense. In fact, the novel began with regressed Kiara defeating me and escaping the orphanage.
Of course, per the “original work.”
“Um... I’m not a bad person... really...”
Excuse me, but you’re misunderstanding. No plans to inherit the kid-eating villain role.
Common sense says that crap doesn’t help in life. Why scam kids? Scam rich bad guys instead.
“Yeah. Keep guessing till the right answer comes.”
Aigoo. How scary prejudice is. Reformed villains have it rough.
* * *
“Reading this’ll give me cancer and kill me.”
You guys can’t casually drop that line. But I’m terminal, so I can.
My past self, Lee Seoha, was utterly unremarkable. No strong likes or talents. Just read a ton of books.
Long hospital stays were boring enough to turn even me into a bookworm.
The Lady Who Lives Four Times was one romance fantasy I’d read. Protagonist Kiara Rostyra, betrayed by family and fallen, awakens “regression.”
But fails to change the future despite tries, so on the fourth life, she enters the Grand Duke’s as adopted daughter, venomous and fierce. Surprisingly, love and healing await... A romance 30%, fantasy 70% quick read.
By Bonn’s “high” standards, maybe 7/10~(smug). But what stuck vividly wasn’t the plot—it was the situation.
“Seoha. Close the book. Nurse is here.”
“Patient Lee Seoha, heading to the OR now.”
My illness: idiopathic terminal disease. Routine now. Worse were the random complications.
Annoying enough that I bragged more OR visits than newbie nurses.
“Dad, I’ll be back.”
“Yeah, our son... Dad’ll...”
Dad got more sentimental with age. I was numb, but he tensed more.
“Doc said it’s easy. Even called it a procedure, not surgery.”
“Just... Dad today... Never mind. Come back safe.”
“Don’t wait forever. Buy novels from the bookstore while I’m gone. Wanna read this one’s sequel in print for once.”
“...Yeah. Got it.”
No need for farewells. Finish with novels later.
“...”
Nurses wheeled the bed. Staring at the ceiling, suddenly in the OR.
Cold slab on bare skin. Fading mind. Just mild tension, nothing dramatic.
No big deal. Surgery starts.
“What’s this? Why—?”
“Doctor, the patient...!”
... ...
“...”
Should wake in recovery, eyes closed then open. But Dad appeared first.
Anesthesia not worn off yet?
Floating sensation lingered. Out-of-body?
Not recovery—Dad waited outside OR, crying. Collapsed.
“Seoha. Next time, definitely... healthy... definitely...”
Wanted to say something, but darkness swallowed everything.
* * *
If reborn, no fish. Swimming feels awful...
My soul swam endlessly somewhere. Not sure if real, but felt it.
At first, jellyfish? Squid? But progressing, limbs returned. At least chimp or human. Relief.
If chimp... no baldness.
Finally, destination.
“Tisha Luagwen...”
Murmured quietly. Eyes open—not lifelong hospital.
Instant knowing: I’d died. That murmur was my name.
Rebirth? Probably not. This body’s “original” memories flooded, vast but patchy, sloppy.
Possession? Or dreaming?
Tisha Luagwen—from the novel I’d just read, The Lady Who Lives Four Times.
“Di-Director... You’re awake?”
“...Surprise.”
Really surprised. Someone beside me.
Lost in thought, hadn’t noticed.
“...”
“...”
“Uh... Good morning...?”
Spotty memories left me clueless on lines. Am I director? Yeah. Luagwen... orphanage director. What now?
Brain looped “Ever tried light-speed thoughts?” Thankfully, kid spoke first.
“T-Today’s my turn. So... came to wake you...”
“You... came...?”
“Sorry. If I did something wrong...”
“No, what.”
Timid kid stopped. Head drooping like bean sprout...
No way. Crying? For real?
...Wha-what...?
Morning greet, kid cries. Tried infant sensitivity for empathy, but adult maturity failed it.
Sob... My mature inner self.
Max empathy output—and suddenly, inner voice responded like awakening.
Get out of my body right now!
Charlie, slap that idiot’s cheek. How dare he bawl and make a mess first thing in the morning.
Correction. Per my long reader experience, this body split between kind citizen Lee Seoha’s self and a crazy hallucination claiming originality.
Ignore for now! Brushed off the yapping head noise like a dog and focused on soothing crying Charlie.
“Stop? Stop crying! Huh? Uncle shows tablet? Pororo?”
Crush him! Crush him!
No, just a light touch and he flinches like I’m hitting!!!
With unexpected hurdles, morning passed like that.