I Refuse to Be Your Enemy! Volume 1 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Color Illustrations

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: I’m Getting Out Of Here!

  Chapter 2: The Path to Sorcery

  Chapter 3: Struck Too Soon

  Chapter 4: The Toll of Fate’s Bell

  Side Story: The Midnight Lesson

  Afterword

  Bonus Textless Illustrations

  About J-Novel Club

  Copyright

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  Prologue

  Ever since I was a child, I kept having this strange, recurring dream. At least, that’s what I thought it was.

  In the dream, I found myself in a small wooden house, staring rapturously at a square-shaped object called a television. One side of the square was made of glass, and through this glass, I was able to see all sorts of things. Landscapes. Moving pictures. Women in short skirts baring their legs.

  Every now and then, I would find myself gazing into a mirror, only to see a completely different “me” gazing back—a girl with perfectly straight, black hair, dark brown eyes, and a broad, flat nose.

  In reality, my hair was the color of a marron glacé, and my eyes were a dull gray-green. Sometimes I would scrutinize my reflection in a spoon and wonder if I had some sort of subconscious desire to change my appearance.

  But it wasn’t until I was six years old that I started to see these dreams with exceptional clarity. I remember because it was right around then that my father took a second wife.

  My stepmother was always incredibly cruel to me, but my father had never really liked children himself, so he generally turned a blind eye to my suffering. The servants all kept their distance, too, lest they put themselves at risk of losing their jobs. When I cried, I cried alone.

  But once I started having those vivid dreams, I sort of... stopped caring. I stopped hoping my father would come to my rescue. And that made it easier to bear.

  Unfortunately, things only got worse for me.

  Three years later, after my father passed away, I was relegated to the position of servant. The culprit? My wicked stepmother, of course. She confiscated all my possessions, gave me exactly one black dress to wear (all the better to hide dirt and grime), and put me to work cleaning the house from top to bottom every single day.

  I cried in secret every night, wishing she would love me like she loved my younger half-brother. But I was merely a child, so I couldn’t oppose her. If I didn’t follow her orders, I would go hungry that day, and I didn’t exactly want to starve to death.

  But whenever I had those recurring dreams, my “other family” was always very kind to me. That tiny silver lining was what got me through these hard times.

  As it turned out, however, my life as a servant only lasted a few months before it came to an abrupt end—the day I was adopted by a nobleman I had never met.

  Unfortunately, my new father, the count of Patriciél, was by no means a kindhearted man. I was told he wanted a daughter to use as a political pawn, and for that purpose, he had paid a hefty sum to take me off my stepmother’s hands.

  On the bright side, he at least seemed to want me around, and he never withheld any meals from me. I was given a wardrobe of beautiful clothes, and his servants treated me with respect. Sure, there was no affection between us, but it was still worlds better than a life of servitude.

  At age eleven, I was permitted to enroll in a parochial boarding school for daughters of nobility. Now, three years later, I was living a relatively peaceful life, learning all the ins and outs of proper etiquette while hiding my dark past. And over time, those strange recurring dreams became few and far between...

  ◇◇◇

  “Clearly, I was too optimistic.”

  Sitting on the floor of my dorm room, sunlight gleaming off the white plaster walls, I curled into a ball and sighed. After reading the most recent letter from Lord Patriciél, I had barely managed to suppress a scream—and now I was in the throes of despair.

  Granted, this reaction was only natural, I think, seeing as my adoptive father had just ordered me to marry a man more than twice my age. Worse still, the man in question was rumored to have three or four different lovers. I’d glimpsed him once, back at the Patriciél estate. He had the face of a bullfrog.

  Mind you, I was no drop-dead knockout myself, but still—I was only fourteen. Surely a girl my age was allowed to have fanciful dreams of a handsome husband, right?!

  Thinking back, Lord Patriciél had mentioned that he intended to make me an attendant to the queen. I had assumed I would be hired at the palace immediately after graduation... but I was a fool.

  Supposedly, only married women were permitted to serve the queen. That way, in the event the king took one as a mistress, any illegitimate children could be passed off as her husband’s. And since national policy dictated that said children would not be considered rightful heirs to the throne, this was a convenient way to get rid of them.

  Personally, not only did I not want to get married, but I really didn’t want to have to sleep with some old royal guy I wasn’t interested in just to keep my job. But the count would never let me say no. Ugh, somebody get me out of here!

  On top of everything else, public opinion of the queen was less than favorable.

  Queen Marianne was originally the princess of Llewyne, a kingdom that bordered our own. Llewyne and Farzia had had a hostile relationship dating back many, many years, but eventually, once both countries were completely exhausted of troops and resources, they agreed to wed their royal families as proof of a truce.

  But in recent years, Llewyne had started to invade small countries to the east, and it was beginning to look like they were back to their usual tricks. Some were confident that Llewyne would leave Farzia alone, seeing as their king’s younger sister was our queen, but others weren’t so sure. Marianne refused to assimilate into Farzian culture, and rumor had it she was on bad terms with the king.

  So if I became her attendant, and then war broke out between Llewyne and Farzia... I would end up on the queen’s side, right? In which case, wouldn’t everyone see me as an enemy of the state?

  After everything I’ve been through, I just want to live a normal life! I don’t want to be one of the bad guys!

  Just then, all the memories of my recurring dreams flashed through my head at once, rising like a tide to the forefront of my mind.

  In my dreams, I was a fourteen-year-old girl with dark hair and dark eyes who lived in a country called Japan. My other self loved to play video games—specifically RPGs. But real-time combat was too fast-paced for me, so I preferred turn-based strategy games instead. That way, I could take my time.

  But my all-time favorite was a game called Farzia: Kingdom at War, in which the protagonist, Alan, battled against the queen and her invading army to reclaim his stolen homeland and avenge the death of the prince.

  At one point during the game’s storyline, the protagonist encountered a wicked spellcaster who sought to impede his progress—Kiara Credias, an attendant to the queen with chestnut-colored hair and pale green eyes.

  Here in real life, the viscount I was ordered to marry was named Lord Credias... and if I complied, then I would end up with the same name as the spellcaster...

  Wait, what?! Does that mean I’m that same villain?!

  So as you can see, I was kind of freaking out.

  Chapter 1: I’m Getting Out Of Here!

  “No, no, no, this can’t be happening! I can’t be a villain! No, it’s just a dream... That’s all it is, right? Hahahaha...”

  A dry laugh escaped my lips.

  Nobody wants to be a v
illain! Villains don’t get happy endings! And who doesn’t love a good happy ending? Somebody please explain to me why I’m living inside a video game! This world doesn’t even HAVE luxuries like video games! Surely I just have an overactive imagination... right?!

  Just then, it occurred to me: in Farzian culture, vivid dreams—those you could remember long after they passed—were believed to be prophetic in nature.

  The predominant religious text within Farzia and our neighboring countries was the Scripture of Jeremiah. As with most other religions, its preachings focused predominantly on living a good, honest life. Unlike other religions, however, it hailed dreams as gifts from God, and as such, people treated them much like horoscopes.

  In Japan, if you went up to someone and said, “Last night I had this really vivid dream that my crush asked me out! Clearly he has feelings for me too!” then everyone would think you were delusional. But here in this world, if you told one of the monks, they’d pull out their dream interpretation book and start analyzing every detail, piece by piece.

  I dug through all the memories of my past life, searching for the smallest possibility that these dreams weren’t prophetic.

  “I mean, Game-Kiara could cast magic, but I sure can’t. And I’ve never seen anyone around here cast any either.”

  That said, I knew magic did indeed exist in this world. Every now and then, I’d hear about the palace hiring royal spellcasters. But while they were exceptional soldiers on the battlefield, they were also extremely rare. Even Llewyne hadn’t employed any spellcasters in their recent battles.

  The path to becoming a spellcaster was a closely guarded secret. Supposedly, the gift of magic passed from a veteran spellcaster to their disciples—but rumor had it that this involved forming a contract with a demon.

  Wait, so... if future events play out exactly like they did in the game... does that mean I’m going to have to do that too?!

  “But I don’t want to sign a contract with a demon!”

  I’d already had a miserable childhood, and now a miserable marriage was on the way—but on top of everything else, I was bound to be inflicted with some kind of demonic curse too?! Can’t a girl catch a break?!

  I tried to look for any more evidence to the contrary, but the queen’s name was a perfect match, and the protagonist’s surname, Évrard, matched that of the margrave’s, and the enemy country was called Llewyne... I couldn’t deny it any longer.

  I was a character in a video game. And even worse, I was an antagonist.

  In the game, Kiara would pop up every now and then to attack the heroes in specific areas where the queen’s invading army was stationed: forts, cities, and so on. It was actually rather annoying to fight her; she would spawn massive golems to do her bidding while she escaped.

  Once the player arrived outside the queen’s castle, only then could they finally fight Kiara head-on. Naturally, this battle ended with the protagonist and his allies victorious; there was even a little animated scene where Kiara ended up impaled on someone’s sword. The memory sent goosebumps prickling up my arms.

  “Nngh... I don’t want to die young! Wait, I know! What if I just don’t marry him?”

  In my current state, I couldn’t use magic at all, so all I had to do was stay single. Then I wouldn’t become Kiara Credias, and I wouldn’t be forced into any demon contract, so I wouldn’t end up on the battlefield. Maybe then I could live a more peaceful life somewhere else...

  That’s it. I’m getting out of here.

  I pulled a small trunk out from under my bed, opened it, and took out my wallet. I still had about a hundred thousand cients to my name, given to me by the count himself right before I enrolled here. As a daughter of nobility, I was supposed to use it to pay the dormitory servants to clean my room or run miscellaneous errands for me, but instead, I did all my cleaning myself.

  Why, you ask? Because I couldn’t risk anyone coming across the vial of poison I was hiding.

  This, too, was a gift from Lord Patriciél. He claimed it was “for emergencies,” but what sort of emergencies required poison? Truth be told, I was tempted to dump it out somewhere, but I was worried that it would seep into the earth and make the plants wither. He hadn’t told me what was in it—just that it was enough to kill a person.

  It was then I realized that the kind of man who would make me carry poison at age eleven would surely have no qualms forcing me into a contract with a demon. How did I not see this coming? Exasperated with myself, I stuffed my wallet into my pocket. Then I hiked up my black skirt and strapped the vial of poison to my thigh, along with a dagger.

  The count had taught me knife combat soon after he adopted me. Naturally, he had said it was for “self-defense,” but...

  First he teaches me to use a dagger, and then he gives me some poison? Who does he think I am, an assassin?

  Going forward, I was going to have to live by my wits alone. The world was a dangerous place, and if I wanted to maximize my chances of survival, I would need to carry a weapon. In that sense, perhaps the count had actually done me a favor.

  Alright, I’m all packed.

  Carrying only whatever I could fit in my trunk, I walked out of the dormitory, taking care to walk as calmly as possible. After all, I couldn’t exactly pretend I was “just going to grab something I left in the classroom” when I was carrying a suitcase full of clothes.

  I didn’t have anyone I could turn to, either. While I did have some casual friends here, they were all aristocrats through and through, and if I told them I was planning to disobey my father and strike out on my own, they’d either give me a weird look, or in the worst-case scenario, tattle on me to the count “for my own good.” Neither of these things would help me.

  As I walked across campus, I planned my route carefully, avoiding any areas where other people were likely to be present. Then, at last, I reached the farthest edge of the school grounds.

  I concealed myself between the hedge and the stone border wall, then heaved a sigh of relief. I’d come here hoping the hole I’d found as a younger student would still be here, and sure enough, it was. This was my way out.

  The boarding school was located on a hill, and the closest town was just a short walk away. Once I arrived, I could change out of my school uniform, and then no one would be able to tell me apart from the ordinary townspeople. From there, I would need to look for some form of transportation out of this territory.

  Ideally, I would’ve liked to smuggle myself into some other country, but on top of starting my life over in an unfamiliar area, the idea of having to learn an entirely new culture was rather intimidating. Fortunately, Farzia was a pretty big country; as long as I kept to a smaller, more obscure village, surely they’d never find me. After all, they’d assume a prissy rich girl couldn’t hack it in a rural, backwater town.

  Yes, the countryside... That’s where I’ll go. But not too rural... Somewhere that has at least one wealthy merchant living there. That way, I might be able to find work.

  And so I slipped through the hole in the wall and out into the forest of tall trees that surrounded the school. Now that I had a rough idea of my next steps, I wasn’t going to wait for sunset. But before I could take my first steps, I heard the whinny of a horse in the direction of the school gates.

  Outside of the priests and the carriages that delivered fresh food in the mornings, almost no one ever visited this school. Was there some sort of family emergency that required a student to leave? Or... had Lord Patriciél sent a carriage to collect me? I decided to go find out.

  To my relief, the carriage’s intended recipient appeared to be a male student about my age—one I vaguely recognized.

  Once I confirmed the carriage wasn’t for me, the panic cleared from my mind... and that was when I noticed the other carriage, which appeared to be reserved exclusively for luggage. The hood was up, so I couldn’t tell how full it was, but... would it be possible to smuggle myself inside? By carriage, I could cover a lot of ground rather quic
kly, all the while concealing myself from potential pursuers. And if I was careful, I could quietly hop out once we had crossed the border out of the Royal Domain. That way, I wouldn’t cause them any trouble.

  As I watched attentively for my big chance, the dark-haired boy suddenly turned on his heel and sprinted back into the school building; evidently he’d forgotten something. His servant(?), a silver-haired boy, followed after him. Also present were five knights on horseback, likely to serve as bodyguards; they, too, were distracted by the boy’s mad dash.

  And then the Goddess played her flute—a Farzian idiom for when an opportunity unexpectedly presents itself. Supposedly, the Goddess’ flute could summon miracles from afar. And as for me, I was pretty sure I heard her trill.

  The next thing I knew, my body was moving on autopilot as I dashed over to the hooded carriage and climbed inside. By some miracle, no one noticed; perhaps it truly was the work of the Goddess. Then, a short while later, I felt the carriage commence as if I wasn’t even there.

  As the luggage began to rattle and sway, I moved to the back, where the driver was less likely to hear me. The floor of the carriage was littered with boxes of all sizes, so there wasn’t much walking space. I located a large box containing a small shelf covered in cloth, relocated the shelf to a spot where it wouldn’t topple over, then climbed into the box myself.

  Tucked away in my hiding place, I let out a sigh of relief. As the tension drained from my body, I suddenly found myself quite sleepy. Rocked by the motions of the carriage, my back knocked painfully against the side of the box, but even that wasn’t enough to stop me. Before I knew it, I had fallen fast asleep.

  ◇◇◇

  Five hours later, Évrard and company arrived at a small town. The inn they’d booked was small and cozy—a brick building that was originally someone’s home prior to being remodeled.

  Alan’s assigned room was so small that he could only walk two steps with his hand outstretched before he touched the far wall. Dinner was unsophisticated: processed meat, vegetable soup, and a small loaf of hard bread. But he and the other knights had been trained for battlefield conditions from an early age, and as such, he was used to frugal meals and less-than-extravagant sleeping quarters. After all, a margrave’s duty was to defend the national border, and as the son of Margrave Évrard, that duty extended to him, too.