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)

"What is this?" was what Izzi said the moment he entered the drawing room, looking bewildered.

Well, it was understandable; Jade was crying on my shoulder, and I was in the middle of pinching Natha's cheek. Zia was laughing her ass off on the couch, and Neel was in her maniac mode around a maid golem.

"Oh, you're finally here," I let go of Natha, observing the elf that looked neater than usual. This man even took a shower, huh? Look at that luscious bright hair.

"Why is the bird crying?" he asked in confusion while naturally taking a seat on the couch in front of me.

"As usual," I glanced at Natha while patting the distressed little boy, but the Demon Lord just gave me a sweet, innocent smile as if he had nothing to do with the weeping mess on my shoulder. "Duesi, please get me a sweet cocoa with milk."

"Oh, me too! Me too!" Zia raised her hand, and Izzi silently raised his.

All depressing talks should end in note of hope