Fitch had always believed that House Rosenwal had ruined him.
He was originally a hereditary baron under House Rosenwal. He had merely acted a little recklessly to claim the primary credit, causing the deaths of a few insignificant soldiers.
He had never imagined that upon learning of this, Grand Duke Rosenwal would fly into a rage and directly strip him of his title.
That stripping of rank had lasted for twenty years. He didn't know how much hardship he had endured before he finally aligned himself with the Ramazi family and made a bit of a name for himself.
When he learned that Grand Duke Rosenwal's biological daughter had gotten into massive trouble, he was the first to volunteer to go to House Rosenwal as an envoy, wanting to thoroughly humiliate them before the family met its downfall and vent all the bitterness he had harbored for years.
Who could have guessed that the seemingly fragile girl would actually say such things?
"Get out!" Upon returning home, he shoved aside the maid who had come to help him change and stormed into his study.
He prepared to "embellish" today's events to stoke the Ramazi family's rage, fanning the flames of House Rosenwal's ruin.
"Once your family is destroyed and you're left penniless, I'll definitely sell you to the lowest brothel in the slums! I'll make you regret ever being born into this world!"
He envisioned countless ways to torment that blonde young lady, venting all his fury into the letter.
...
Splish-splash-splish-splash-splish-splash—
Dear readers and censors, please do not misunderstand—this is absolutely not the sound of anything inappropriate for minors.
It is merely Roseliel splashing water in the bathtub.
"Aaaaah! I'm so pissed off! Aaaaaah!"
Luna, who was preparing to serve her bath, stood helplessly to the side, watching the young lady throw a tantrum like a child.
"Who does he think he is?! Where does he get off speaking to me like that? It's only because I'm busy right now; once I have time, I'll definitely...!"
She grabbed a petal from the bathwater and tore it into pieces.
"My Lady, please stop thrashing around..." Luna said weakly, having lost count of how many times she had said this.
Seeing how late it was getting, with Roseliel's body gradually flushing pink in the hot water, she decided to take real action.
She walked up behind Roseliel, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her back to hold her firmly in place.
"Ngh!" A soft sensation pressed against the back of her head, and Roseliel realized the source in a mere 0.0000001 seconds.
"You still have many matters to deal with tomorrow!" Her tone grew a bit firmer, then quickly softened again. "You need to rest."
"..."
Roseliel finally quieted down.
Luna let out a sigh of relief as she scooped up clean water to carefully rinse Roseliel's back.
Meanwhile, Roseliel's mind was completely consumed with reliving that soft touch just now.
Isn't this a super classic event?!
Only now did she pull her thoughts away from her earlier frustration, finally realizing just how magnificent a chest that intricate maid uniform usually concealed.
Furthermore, Luna, coming from a knight background, had maintained a rigorous workout routine. Her waist was firm and toned, clearly showing off sleek ab lines and a V-line.
This was a physique Roseliel had only ever seen on fitness influencers in her past life. It was the dream body she had always longed for.
Compared to her, Roseliel felt like a child.
"W-Where's your bath towel...?" she stammered.
"You got it wet earlier, My Lady."
Don't just omit the subject like that!
This chapter is running away!
Roseliel felt her cheeks burning intensely. It had to be because she had soaked in the hot water for too long—it definitely was!
Afterwards, she sat obediently while the maid washed her clean, then lay quietly in bed as Luna tucked her in. Bidding her goodnight, Luna returned to her own adjacent room.
After that, only a faint candlelight remained in the room.
With that brief interlude over, exhaustion hit her once more. Today's series of ordeals rushed back like a tide, overwhelming her mind.
In her past life, she had been just like this—spending every night tossing and turning over the day's frustrations, unable to sleep for hours, which left her sluggish all day and ruined her skin.
She needed greater power.
She realized this clearly.
Right now, her enemies were snowballing in number. Her status as a duke's daughter was often not enough to protect her.
Not just social power like status and position—in this world of swords and magic, her own personal strength was also vital.
"Is there any way to quickly boost my strength? Something involving dark magic or curses."
She had asked Mona this earlier today before they parted.
"Master, dark magic is far too dangerous. Please stay away from it." But Mona, who usually obeyed her every word, had not given her an answer, her concern for Roseliel outweighing everything else.
Roseliel smiled helplessly. "I don't have a choice right now. With conventional methods, I'll probably be dead before I can even grow stronger."
"I will protect you! Even if it costs me my life!" Mona had declared immediately.
Roseliel felt a sore sting in her nose. Ever since transmigrating, it was impossible to say she didn't feel wronged. She had done nothing wrong; she had simply gone to sleep and mysteriously transmigrated to this place, only to be met with hostility from everyone.
Everyone gave her the cold shoulder, while only this person, whom others treated as a freak, stood by her side with all her heart.
"Thank you. Really, thank you." In this moment, she didn't care about keeping up a front or whether she'd be exposed; she only wanted to speak her true feelings to Mona. "But please make sure to stay alive—if only for my sake."
She hugged Mona tightly, gently stroking her dark, slightly messy hair.
"Master..." Mona murmured in her arms, like a child calling out for her mother.
In the end, Mona still shared a spell with her that was at least relatively less dangerous—Spirit Evocation.
Through this spell, souls in the netherworld that harbored intense emotions toward the caster could be summoned back to this world, serving as vengeful spirits to assist in basic combat.
The stronger the summoned soul's feelings toward the spellcaster, the more powerful it would be. Likewise, because a link was established between both sides, the vengeful spirit would also exert a reverse influence on the caster, altering their emotions or even their sanity.
This was also why many dark mages chose to torture and slay their prey: by making them die with overwhelming hatred toward them, they could simultaneously cultivate a powerful wraith weapon for themselves.
"This is the only spell I could think of with a relatively small drawback and decent effect, but I'm afraid it won't be of much help to Master," Mona had said guiltily. "I'm sorry, I'm still so useless—mmpf!"
Before she could finish speaking, Roseliel pressed a finger against her lips.
"Don't talk about yourself like that." She flashed a sly smile. "You've actually helped me immensely."
Indeed, under normal circumstances, the Roseliel that Mona knew would never be able to find a vengeful spirit that harbored intense emotions toward her.
But the current Roseliel could.
She got out of bed. There was a magic station in the room, placed by the original owner to store magic items. Though her skills had been pitifully weak, the original owner had still been a magic apprentice, so the necessary facilities were all present and exceedingly luxurious. It was a classic case of a bad student having the fanciest stationery.
Roseliel took out a silver ritual dagger from the station and placed it in her palm. Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes, she slashed it across her hand. Blood immediately flowed out, trickling into a specially crafted vessel beside her.
Made of an unknown material, this container prevented coagulation, keeping the blood in liquid form constantly—much like an anticoagulant from her past life.
Once she had collected roughly the required amount, Roseliel spoke to the wound in awkward Elvish:
"Heal swiftly."
As the incantation was spoken, Roseliel felt something begin to flow inside her body. Disorganized at first, it soon gathered into a single stream, surging toward the wound on her palm. The wound, which had been continuously bleeding, began to close at a pace visible to the naked eye.
In the end, only a faint scar remained.
Is this what casting magic feels like? It was far calmer than expected, but the effect was truly astonishing. She turned her hand over, examining it repeatedly; even the finest surgeon from her past life couldn't have stitched a wound together better than this.
Roseliel lit a nearby candle made from the fat of magical creatures, picked up a quill, dipped it in her blood, and began drawing runes and a magic array on a piece of papyrus, following the notes Mona had given her.
Using her own blood as bait was the only way to lure out wraiths interested in her.
Finally came three targeted incantations used to pinpoint the specific spirit from among the countless souls in the netherworld—the one who wished to find her, and whom she wished to find. The more specific the incantation, the better.
"The daughter of House Rosenwal." Roseliel began her chant, the first phrase being the spirit's identity in life.
"The girl who died in the Goddess's flames." The second phrase was the cause of death.
"Roseliel von Rosenwal." The third was the name.
Whoosh!
The array formed of her own blood suddenly burst into flames, the crimson fire rapidly engulfing the entire sheet of papyrus!
Oh no, it's going to start a fire!
Roseliel panicked immediately. Perhaps out of sheer desperation, she actually tried to pat out the fire with her bare hands.
But the moment her hands touched the flames, she felt a bone-chilling cold instead.
"You are not—me!" A familiar screech echoed as a girl resembling a horror movie doll appeared behind her at some unknown moment.
Her golden hair was longer than her body, draped over her shoulders in a messy, terrifying tangle like countless living tentacles. Her eye sockets were deeply sunken, housing bloodshot, cloudy eyes.
Heavy burn marks covered her face and arms. She wore a tattered white dress, completely hollow beneath, leaving it unclear where her neck and arms even protruded from.
Honestly, for a split second, Roseliel felt like she almost wet herself.
She had previously asked Mona about the possibility of a summoned wraith attacking its summoner. Although Mona pointed out that this type of servitude magic guaranteed the summoner's control over the summoned spirit, Roseliel still had no real confidence in her heart.
If there turned out to be some trope where malice could break free of restraints, wouldn't she be completely screwed?
Fortunately, the feared attack never came. The summoned "Roseliel" stared at her with hollow eyes, as if failing to recognize her.
"It worked?" She took a deep breath to compose herself, asking hesitantly.
Yes, it had worked. She had successfully summoned a vengeful spirit. Moreover, due to its intense hatred toward her, this wraith was exceptionally powerful.
Fantastic! She would no longer have to be bullied by anyone—not Bishop Seraphin, not that Saintess who pointed a sword at her, not that insolent Fitch, and none of the rest.
With this wraith, she didn't need to fear them anymore.
Wait, was it just about not fearing them?
No! She was going to make them pay the price!
That old bastard Bishop Seraphin—she was going to storm into the Holy See and tear his head off right in front of the Goddess's statue, just to see if the Goddess he trusted could protect him.
And as for Lucia, who was always looking down on others from a moral high ground, she would track her down and plunge her own sword into her chest with her own hands as payment for threatening her!
As for Fitch, there was no need to even mention him—in Roseliel's mind, she had already torn him to shreds.
Yes, she didn't need to fear anyone or anything anymore. She could kill everyone. Everyone.
And... and those nobles who had once flattered her but now kicked her while she was down—they had to die too.
She suddenly felt an intense surge of excitement, as though she had drunk strong liquor.
But as more and more faces of the dead surfaced in her mind, piling up into a mountain, she caught sight of Luna's face among them.
No!
Roseliel bit the tip of her tongue hard. The coppery taste of blood instantly filled her mouth, washing away some of the dark visions.
She panted heavily.
The wraith was affecting her.
The malice of the original Roseliel before her death was seeping into her consciousness through their connection, driving her to hate this world, hate everyone, hate everything.
Cold sweat broke out across her body. If she hadn't snapped back to her senses just now, countless bloody tragedies might have taken place inside this mansion tonight.
Mona had warned her that a wraith could corrupt the spellcaster's mind, so after summoning one, she had to constantly meditate on whatever she held dearest to ensure she stayed clear-headed.
Yet the moment she let her guard down, she had nearly been completely consumed.
Roseliel leaned against the edge of the table as the candle's aroma slowly drifted into her nostrils. The scent, carrying a mild soothing effect, caused the killing intent in her heart to gradually subside.
Dark magic... truly terrifying!
Rate on N.U.
