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 stretched out and rolled around and stretched out again, before lounging on the swing in the greenhouse, staring blankly at the lake and the pavilion across.

It had been a week since we returned to the Lord's Castle, and all I did was lounging around or visiting Shwa. That day, my friends were visiting me from the Lair, however, so we were hanging out in the greenhouse. Natha had decided that the fewer people came to the shed the better for security, so even though I didn't mind introducing Shwa to my friends, I couldn't do it.

It wasn't that Natha was suspicious of everyone, but Prince Zurheien's case taught us that bad things happen even without bad intentions. This was a word that people who could sense thought and read minds existed, so even the most loyal people could screw things up.

Do you think fantasy conceiving came with pregnancy hormones?