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)

I was actually serious--my legs felt so weak that I couldn't move. It was so weird. All I could do was look at him in embarrassment, and you know what?

You know what; yeah, he actually lifted me in his arms, carrying me. "How nostalgic," he said. "Too bad it's not a rooftop."

"Too bad it's not snowing," Zarga grinned, her head peeking out behind Natha's back.

"This is you, isn't it?" my eyes narrowed at her. "You're the one who prepared this?"

I recalled vaguely that Natha and Zarfa were talking among themselves at one point when I was preoccupied with something else. And who else could help Natha turn into 'him' from the time I was secretly crushing on him but Zarfa?

"Why? Don't you like my masterpiece?" she grinned and pushed her nose bridge as if fixing her nonexistent glasses.

Sometimes, wish is being granted even if it’s not your birthday