Before being reincarnated into another world, Fros’s life had nothing to do with happiness.
At that time, he was an orphan who, with the help of a welfare institution, had spent more than ten years living like a ghost in school before entering the workforce.
No close friends, no family who loved him, and not even a few colleagues he could talk to.
The trigger for reincarnation was food poisoning.
He didn’t even have the chance to call for help, and no one cared about whether he lived or died.
He struggled with dehydration from acute gastroenteritis in his rented room until death.
His corpse probably would have gone unnoticed for months, stinking away.
Perhaps the pain he suffered then was why he was born with a powerful healing talent after reincarnation.
And those experiences in his previous life were the reason he cared so much about bonds with companions and family.
But all of that had turned to bubbles because of his suicide.
He didn’t even know if this time, with his heart broken, the heavens would grant him another chance at reincarnation.
Although death brought relief, living two miserable lives like that left him unwilling to give up.
With that thought, his consciousness became clear once again.
Bathed in the warmth of sunlight and wrapped in a soft, dough-like cocoon that filled her entire body, she floated lightly, hoping fate would favor her once more.
It didn’t feel like reincarnation—was this heaven?
Fros instinctively felt this way.
Her instincts told her she was safe and healthy, in a space where even the soul could be nurtured.
She forced open her eyes, hardly daring to believe it.
A pale pink canopy hung overhead, tied to the carved wooden bedposts, forming a soft curve.
On it, layers of fluffy white lace trimmed like clouds draped down, splitting the morning light sneaking through the window into fragmented spots.
They fell perfectly on her confused face.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of rosemary—a fragrance she could never forget.
In her past life, to take care of the three young ladies in the team, she had not only honed cooking and other life skills but even learned perfumery.
Rosemary was the spice she used most often.
Though she didn’t know what heaven looked like, she was sure it wouldn’t be a young lady’s boudoir nor would it smell of rosemary.
Trying to keep calm, she deliberately turned her gaze away from the canopy and ignored the pink-and-white floral bedding covering her body.
She refused to acknowledge the body parts she shouldn’t have or the missing objects visible with a downward glance.
Stepping away from the wooden bed, her feet touched the marshmallow-soft carpet.
The silk nightgown brushed against her skin, causing a faint itch that repeatedly reminded her she was alive.
She finally stood by a corner of the room—before a full-length mirror adorned with feather necklaces and butterfly hair accessories.
In the mirror was a blue-haired girl.
Delicate features, fair and smooth skin, and a perfectly proportioned figure wrapped in a white lace nightgown.
She looked no older than eighteen, tender and beautiful.
The kind of beautiful girl Fros could never have dreamed of in her previous life…
Fros stared for a long moment before confirming that fate had favored her once more, granting her reincarnation—not from the womb this time but with memories carried over into the body of some unknown young noblewoman.
“I thought I was hallucinating because I failed at suicide…”
Joy welled up inside her, and relieved, Fros slumped into the chair by the dressing table, glancing at the pretty girl in the mirror and breathing easier.
“Really a mess, huh.”
Her clear, melodious voice was inexplicably comforting, and becoming such a beautiful girl was an even more strange experience.
In high spirits, she reached for a notebook on the table that was clearly a diary.
That was one of the reasons she sat before the mirror.
Starting a new life was truly a blessing, but she couldn’t be arrogant too soon. Fros knew well that transmigration differed from reincarnation.
Without the girl’s memories, she would encounter many troubles.
She needed to quickly familiarize herself with her current identity.
Even if that meant snooping on the girl’s privacy.
With that thought, she opened the diary with some anticipation.
But there wasn’t much content inside—only a neat line of handwriting on the front page—
Fulo Emerald’s Diary.
That reality made Fros’s ease vanish instantly.
Her heart skipped a beat, and her pupils constricted uncontrollably.
Emerald?
What was this surname about?
She slammed the diary shut and looked around in panic.
As if responding to her unease, by some unknown time, familiar figures appeared before the desk, on the wooden bed, and by the door.
“It looks like you’re awake, Fulo. How did you sleep in the room we carefully prepared for you?”
Standing at the door was a silver-haired girl dressed in a plain long gown, as dignified and elegant as Fulo remembered.
She smiled brightly at the pale-faced girl.
Her hand rested on the hilt of a long sword at her waist, as if ready to strike the moment Fulo made a wrong move.
Moliyaer von Delan.
Leader of the Emerald Adventurer’s Guild, daughter of Duke Delan, disciple of the Sword Saint of the Sicari Empire, and Fulo’s childhood friend.
The one person Fulo least wanted to face.
“What have you done to me… I… I…”
In this situation, how could Fulo not understand what had happened?
She looked at the three before her in disbelief.
The joy of becoming a beautiful girl in a new body turned into inescapable fear.
Questions flooded her mind—what kind of mentality did these teammates who didn’t even allow her the dignity of suicide have toward her?
“Do you need an explanation? If you can’t pay the penalty, you stay in the team. The Emerald Heart never abandons its members; that’s the rule. Rules cannot be broken. We won’t abandon you, and you have no right to abandon us.”
Tatashimi Luko, a graduate of the Imperial Royal Academy, who had previously threatened to replace her with another priest, answered her question.
What should have been words of unity from a comrade only made Fulo’s heart chill.
She understood less and less.
“But if I’m not suitable for this team, just let me quit. I…”
I already chose suicide, can’t you just let me die peacefully?
Overcome by helplessness, she collapsed to the floor, crying out softly.
She had hoped fate would favor her, giving her a second chance at life. Instead, it felt like fate slapped her and then mocked her naivety.
“Why? Why…”
Had she broken some divine law to deserve this treatment?
“Because we promised to adventure together. You promised me.”
Moliyaer stepped forward, kneeling on one knee.
Smiling, she wiped the tear at Fulo’s eye with a handkerchief, a gesture that seemed to evoke tenderness.
“We know we were wrong, Fulo. Life is still long; we have many chances to make things right… so…”
Her smile faded as she reached out and grasped the girl’s slender neck—not with much force, but her cold red eyes fixed on Fulo.
“We give you chances to try, and you have to give us enough trust and returns. Want to quit? Want to die? We’re teammates. We promised to adventure together, and I will never allow you to betray us.”
Her hand pressed slightly, only as a warning, then she released it and continued gently:
“You think you’re disrespected, like a slave? Fine, from now on, the team’s name will be your surname. You are the core of our group.
I know you care about family and bonds. Your uncles and aunts don’t love you, but now you’re not their son anymore.
Isn’t that good? Without them, you still have us. We can be your family, even closer than that…”
“I don’t want that! You can’t force me to do things I don’t want!”
These people were crazy.
Absolutely crazy.
The unprecedented fear brought unbearable unease to Fulo.
She could see how miserable her future would be if this continued.
But Moliyaer didn’t care about her struggles.
Just like when Fulo tried to quit.
“Quit? Fros, are you jealous because you think the church’s priest is better? Please, don’t be so melodramatic.
We grew up together. Even if you’re useless, I won’t kick you out. And you know that if you leave Emerald Heart, no one will take you.
But if you’re trying to start a conversation with me using that, don’t expect me to like you… Enough, don’t show that face.
I’m not buying it. If you really want to quit, wait until this mission is over.”
Those words echoed in Fulo’s mind as Moliyaer’s gentle warning rang in her ears:
“We’ve already tried hard to meet your needs. Don’t push your luck.”