If Erika had to sum up the novel “Flowers of Evil” from her memories in one sentence, it would be: a dark hero-themed story.
A protagonist with a somewhat deranged mind uses greater ‘evil’ to crush the evildoers who rampage unchecked in the world. Along the way, the main character gathers companions, repeatedly punishes villains, strikes at wickedness, and collects treasures and rare equipment in the process.
This classic, dark-style protagonist’s refreshing storyline had its unique charm and was what drew her, in her previous life, to start reading it. Once, during the serialization, a comment like this appeared in the comment section:
【The others were all killed, so why didn’t he kill her? Is the protagonist just a sucker for pretty faces?】
It was about a certain villainous character—the kind who would rack up comments every time she appeared: Erika, the villainess herself. Whether or not this character appeared, there were always passionate readers leaving comments, demanding that the protagonist either take Erika in or simply execute her—oh, and one of those people was Erika herself now.
“Tear Erika to pieces! I want to see what a beautiful girl looks like on the inside, just out of curiosity!”
“C’mon, can’t the protagonist just recruit her? I want to see her redeemed, arrange it? 【Monthly Ticket +1】”
Sigh… Maybe that sentence in the novel—‘One day, Erika will be executed for her past crimes’—was just tacked on to tease people like her.
Am I being punished? No, what do I have to be punished for? What did I ever do wrong?
Just a high school student, working hard to prepare for exams and slacking off whenever possible. Studying hard, reading novels in spare time, sneakily checking comments—what’s wrong with that? Now that she looked back, those grueling days of high school felt like a dream she never wanted to wake up from.
Thinking this, Erika returned to the surface, took off her cumbersome gown, slipped into her underdress, and crawled under the covers, preparing for sleep. Before drifting off, she didn’t forget to check that the protection wards set on the house’s windows and entrances were functioning properly.
Honestly, it wouldn’t be strange for death to come at any moment. To be blunt, even if there was an assassin hiding under her bed right now, she wouldn’t be surprised.
“……”
There couldn’t really be one, right?
Rustle, rustle—the faintest sound reached her ears from beneath the bed.
Erika: !
Ever since becoming like this, she had been on edge all the time. After so many brushes with death lately, Erika’s vigilance was now on par with her high school dorm mates scrambling for red envelopes in the chat group—of this, she was quite proud.
There really was something under the bed…
She quickly grabbed the short sword she kept by her pillow.
If you want to take someone down in one move, it’s best to aim for the neck or the eyes—don’t hesitate.
Recalling how Emil once taught her the methods of killing, Erika slowly extended her foot toward the floor.
Her bare, snow-white feet touched the warm carpet, but nothing happened—no strange movement at all. Could it be an assassin, just waiting for her to fall asleep and make their move?
“Woof woof!”
“Huh?”
At the sound from under the bed, the tension in her body snapped like a stretched rubber band, and all her strength drained away. “Thud,” she plopped right down on the carpet in a duck-sitting position, dropping her short sword beside her.
“Oh, so it wasn’t an assassin after all.”
Makes sense—how could an assassin sneak into a house protected by wards without being noticed? Maybe there had just been too much going on today, making her overly sensitive, jumping at every little sound.
She bent down to look under the bed, where a pair of jet-black, round eyes were peeking out at her.
“Little guy, when did you get here?”
“Woof woof!”
As she reached out, a tiny figure leaped out, still barking “woof woof.” The identity of this uninvited guest was obvious—Squirrel-kun.
That’s right, it was a squirrel.
In this world, squirrels bark like dogs. She didn’t know why, but that’s just common sense here!
But how do squirrels usually sound? Since they’re related to mice, do they squeak? Then what about this world’s dogs…
…Whatever.
“Come here!”
Erika stretched out her hand, and the squirrel—about the size of her palm—hopped right onto it.
“Woof woof.” This little guy, with a scar near its left eye, was a striped squirrel living in a nearby birch tree. Sometimes it would show up like this in Erika’s room.
“Did you sneak in when I opened the door?”
“Woof woof.”
This little thing was pretty smart. Whenever she saw it, she’d give it some food—nuts or bread, for example. Now, it was so comfortable it would jump right onto a human hand and sometimes even let her pet it.
“Wait a sec.”
She picked an almond seed from the wooden shelf beside her bed and handed it to the little guy. Squirrel-kun quickly accepted, munching and swallowing it with a crisp crunch. Then it started gesturing with its tiny paws, as if demanding more food.
“Woof woof!”
“I’m out of almonds… Want to try this? It’s a new mint flavor…”
“Gululu!!”
“Alright, alright, little guy. For a squirrel, you’re awfully picky.”
Still, looking at the squirrel’s bulging cheeks, all those worries swirling in Erika’s mind instantly vanished. Maybe this was what it meant to be healed? As expected, small animals really were the cutest.
They don’t scheme or plot, nor do they harbor any natural malice. All they do is eat and sleep, play in the fields, climb trees, and live peacefully by instinct—it’s easy to get along with them.
Not to mention, before she transmigrated, she loved watching animal videos: cats, dogs, otters, marmots… Ah, cuteness overload!
When she was with these animals, she was no longer ‘Erika, Calamity Enchantress,’ but just a regular person.
“You’re my only friend, aren’t you?” The girl raised her index finger and gently stroked Squirrel-kun’s fluffy little head.
“Gululu!”
But just like before, as if its begging for food was only a temporary measure, the little guy darted away again, vanishing without a trace.
Heartless rascal—are you treating me like some kind of vending machine that spits out food when you bark twice?
But thankfully, there wasn’t an assassin under the bed. Now that the tension had faded, fatigue washed over her like a tide.
There was still so much to do tomorrow. Better get some sleep. Who knows, maybe a hero will show up soon.
She’d already told Evelyn she’d be taking a day off tomorrow and would need to head to the market early.
Soon, the girl was breathing evenly on her bed, her little nose gently rising and falling.
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