Erica Ansheinus's misdeeds in the original story were nothing short of relentless.
Ambushing the protagonist when she was alone, cursing the capture targets—she was the troublemaker, the catalyst for countless incidents, practically the root of all evil in the narrative. Each route branched differently, yet somehow she remained constant: the villain who orchestrated suffering from the shadows, who smiled sweetly while plotting ruin, who wielded her cursed powers without hesitation or remorse.
As a result, even though there were many branching routes, she stood as the villain in nearly all of them, and met a tragic end every single time.
Whether slain by the protagonist's holy sword, poisoned by a desperate capture target, or consumed by her own corrupted magic—her downfall came in many forms, but each ended in misery. I could still remember the CG illustrations from the game: her elegant figure crumpled on marble floors, rose-pink hair spread like spilled wine, those crystalline blue eyes finally empty of their calculating gleam.
And such a pitiful yet difficult-to-sympathize-with character was now walking right beside me.
…How on earth did it come to this?
Liam and Erica were currently strolling through the count's garden, our footsteps crunching softly against the pale gravel path. The afternoon sun filtered through the carefully manicured hedgerows, casting dappled patterns across manicured lawns that smelled of fresh-cut grass and distant roses. A place I should never have stepped into, with a person I should never have stood beside.
But due to the enormous status gap—and the fact that refusing a noble's request was impossible—I became her provisional "friend."
This quiet walk was arranged by the earl, Adelbater, who said something like, "I hope you can deepen your bond as friends," before practically shoving us out the manor's side entrance with an enthusiasm that seemed almost desperate. The heavy door had shut behind us with a decisive thud that still echoed in my memory.
But having to accompany someone I'd just met—someone who was not only a noble lady but a girl who might become a future final boss—it left me stiff as a board. My shoulders ached from the tension, and I found myself counting the sound of our footsteps just to have something to focus on besides the suffocating silence. One, two, three, four. Her steps were lighter than mine, almost soundless.
"Th-the garden is truly magnificent," I managed, my voice coming out higher than intended. I cleared my throat. "Every flower blooms so beautifully… I could look at them forever."
The truth was, I barely registered the flowers at all. My peripheral vision was entirely consumed by the girl beside me—by the way sunlight seemed to adore her, catching in the rose-gold waves of her hair like light through stained glass.
"I'm glad you think so."
Trying to escape the suffocating silence, I had forced out those words. But Erica's reply was so emotionless I might as well have spoken to a decorative statue, to one of the marble cherubs positioned at the garden's fountain. Her voice held no warmth, no inflection—just empty courtesy wrapped in silk.
In fact, her expression hadn't moved even once since we'd begun walking. Her smile was like something painted on—completely still, perfect and terrible in its immobility. It reminded me uncomfortably of a porcelain doll I'd owned in my previous life, the kind with glass eyes that seemed to follow you around a room.
According to the earl, she was the same age as me. So she was seven years old.
Even excluding me—a reincarnator carrying memories of a full adult life—children her age were normally expressive, unpredictable, and lively. They laughed too loud, cried without shame, wore their hearts openly on their sleeves. But Erica's emotions were almost nonexistent, locked away behind that flawless mask.
Just like in the main story, she held the same cold, unreadable expression she wore while scheming against people, while plotting their downfall with methodical precision.
Had she already completed her transformation into the final boss…!?
The thought sent ice down my spine. What if I was already too late? What if the sweet, innocent child I'd hoped to save had already been twisted beyond recognition?
"…Is something troubling you?"
"N-no, nothing at all."
Her doll-like eyes—the color of clear summer sky, almost ethereal in their beauty—turned toward me, and I reflexively looked away. The contrast between her appearance and the weight of her gaze was jarring. She should have looked like an angel, with those delicate features and that rose-tinted hair adorned with small white flowers. Instead, she looked through me, as if assessing whether I was worth the effort of continued conversation.
Emotionless as she was, her appearance was undeniably beautiful. Ethereally so, in a way that seemed almost unreal. Having her stare directly at me was… a bit embarrassing. Heat crept up my neck despite the cool afternoon breeze that rustled through the garden's cherry trees.
…Alright.
Given the circumstances, I just had to try my best as her friend. That's what I'd been brought here for, wasn't it? Not just as a companion forced by social obligation, but as someone who might actually make a difference.
Surely she hadn't yet developed the desire to curse or harm others. She was only seven, after all. Children weren't born cruel—they learned it, absorbed it from the world around them like poison seeping into clean water.
Then what mattered most was approaching her without prejudice.
Or better yet, guiding her so she never walked down that villainous path.
If I could divert her destiny, Erica would be spared a tragic ending—and I'd avoid danger too. A perfect win-win. My original goal had been simple survival in this world, staying far from the main plot and its dangers. But standing here now, watching the way she held herself so carefully controlled, I realized my motivation had shifted. I wanted to save her. Not just for my sake, but for hers.
Because no child should have to wear that expression.
I finally managed to solidify my resolve to face her properly, squaring my shoulders and turning to look at her fully.
But at that exact moment—
"…As I thought… you dislike being friends with me, don't you?"
"…Huh?"
Her sudden statement—the first she had initiated on her own—caught me so completely off guard that a dumb sound escaped my mouth. A nearby bird took flight from the hedge, startled by my graceless exclamation.
"You must not want anything to do with someone as eerie as I am." Her voice remained flat, but something flickered in those blue eyes—something raw and quickly suppressed.
"…I am a cursed child."
Dark, murky mana seeped from her body.
It was unmistakably magical energy—the supernatural force possessed by all people in this world.
But Erica's magic was entirely different.
What she possessed was the Black of the Evil God—something no human should ever have.
Magic meant only for harming and killing.Because she held that power, she was feared, accused without reason,and subjected to relentless persecution.
"If you wish it, I will tell Father to revoke our friendship.Before I end up hurting you…"
…I see.
The wound ran deep.She truly believed she would eventually harm someone.
Well, in the story she did wield that power against the protagonist—
But the current Erica was not yet someone who would hurt anyone.
"No… there's no need for that. In fact—may I make a request of my own?"
I plucked a large, bright red flower blooming nearby—a late-season rose, its petals soft as velvet between my fingers, still cool with morning dew that hadn't quite dried. The stem was thornless, cultivated for beauty rather than defense.
Then, channeling the magic that felt as natural as breathing in this second life—
"Bloom."
With a soft glow that warmed my palm like sunlight captured in glass, the single flower transformed into a full bouquet. Five, ten, fifteen roses spiraling outward in perfect symmetry, their crimson petals catching light and throwing it back in ruby brilliance. The scent intensified, sweet and heady, overwhelming the bitter taste of cursed magic that still lingered in the air.
"Won't you please become my friend?"
Erica froze completely, mouth slightly open, her expression showing rare and genuine surprise. The painted-on mask finally cracked. For a moment, she looked exactly her age—a seven-year-old girl confronted with something unexpected, something kind.
As my words sank in, her cheeks gradually flushed.She hugged the bouquet close to her chest.
"D-do you truly mean it…?"
"Of course. I want you, Lady Erica."
At my follow-up, her face grew even redder.
She tried to hide behind the bouquet, but the tips of her ears—bright crimson—gave her away completely.
"T-then… um… I look forward to… being your friend…"
A small, trembling hand reached toward me.
A handshake, huh?
"Yes. I look forward to it as well."
I squeezed her hand gently.It was soft, cool to the touch, yet carried a subtle warmth.
The oppressive black aura from earlier had vanished entirely.
How could anyone call such a girl cursed, or Fear her…?People must have been insane.
Renewing my determination, the two of us officially became "friends."