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's the commotion?" I stirred at the vague sounds of chirping and conversation, slipping deeper into the blanket and Natha's embrace.

"The Elf is here," Natha murmured against my hair, pulling me closer to him by my waist.

I blinked drowsily for a minute, trying to digest the information. My blurry eyes glanced at the window, where the sunlight had just trickled into the room. My head was raised in surprise when my brain registered this. "This early?"

"He came from a bakery or something," Natha pushed me back to the bed, so I laid on top of his bare chest.

"You mean...the bakery that Zia liked?"

I whistled and looked toward the door. So that was what he meant by coming here in the morning. Honestly, that bakery was truly good. They were so good that the bread and pastries were usually sold off in an hour or two after the place was open.

Drama is fun if you're a part of the audience