Aerlev

Getting transmigrated inside a novel is not really a bad thing—you know the story, you have the power of the future in your hand, you know all the hidden keys. You might as well end up as the most powerful and omniscient being in that world.

That is, if you don’t wake up during the epilogue.

And yet I find myself in the body of a fallen priest at the end of the novel, a tragic hero who had his mana circuit broken in the last war, being shunned, drown in debt, and destined to die not long after. 

Fortunately, I know just the cure.

Unfortunately, the cure was in the hand of one of the Demon Lords—you know, the race that my kingdom just wage war with.

Would he give me the cure if I asked him politely? There’s no harm in trying, right? I’d die if I didn’t get the cure, anyway.

“Sure, but you have to be my bride as the price,” the Demon Lord said.

...huh? Sir, you know I’m (technically) a priest, right?

The Demon Lord’s Bride (BL)

After much fuss and scolding from Amarein, we finally seated calmly around the room. Amarein led me to sit in one of the comfortable armchairs while the other Chiefs took a seat around me.

The Chief of Alnin, Amarein's mother, sat on the chair beside me, holding my hand with both of her hands. Her deep green eyes were sparkling, and I even suspected there was a glaze of tears there.

"Amarein is so bad," she sighed. "How could she keep us from seeing you."

The same grumble and whine could be heard from the other Chiefs, who were mostly middle-aged druids. Apparently, Amarein told them to stay put and never come close to her house. How powerful, to be able to tell all of these Chiefs to follow her order.

And now, Amarein just smiled casually from my other side while sipping on the tea that was being served to accompany our 'talk', whatever kind of talk it would be.

It’s natural to be defensive about your partner, right?