The Story Officially Begins

Once again, spring departed and autumn arrived, and then the winter snow fell.

It was snowing.

So cold.

Pristine white snow covered the barren branches. This winter seemed exceptionally cold; as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but a blanket of pure white, and even the river had frozen over.

I was currently sitting in my room, copying down 《The Complete Guide to Ladylike Demeanor》—though, of course, that was just my personal name for it.

Because I was approaching the age of enrollment, the family had begun piling on more demands, leaving me feeling a bit suffocated. It felt like a stressful throwback to preparing for high school entrance exams in my past life.

Well, maybe not quite as bad as the college entrance exams. Those were truly miserable.

Come to think of it, it's already been two years. Before I knew it, almost two years had passed since I arrived in this alternate world.

I exhaled onto my palms, watching the faint white mist rise and disperse. These two years had made me fully understand my future. Despite all my efforts, I hadn't been able to warp the will of the world; everything was still steadily marching toward that destined end.

However, the butterfly effect is real. I can only hope that, over time, these small changes will accumulate and truly alter the course of events. I haven't given up.

After finishing my writing, I stretched my arms with a relaxed groan. Aside from bringing up sentimental feelings, this two-year mark was actually the entry point for another event. A highly critical one.

But now that I thought about it, I hadn't looked in the mirror for quite some time. I might as well check on how my physical development was coming along.

I stood in front of the mirror, gazing at the young girl reflected within.

An ambiguous age, the very definition of a preteen girl.

My blonde drill twintails were a bit longer than last year, their ends now cascading past my shoulder blades.

My emerald-green eyes shimmered with an amber luster under the light. The corners of my eyes still upturned slightly, but the baby fat on my cheeks had almost entirely vanished, leaving my jawline much more defined.

My height had shot up once more, finally breaking past the 1.4-meter mark (oh my god!). I had evolved from a mere loli into a petite and cute young girl—though, of course, those with broader definitions might still consider me a loli. In my personal opinion, however, this was a perfectly acceptable growth.

My outfit consisted of luxurious winter silk, topped with a custom-tailored fox-fur coat. However, I began taking them off. I was changing my clothes. I suppose we can skip this part.

A moment later, I was dressed in a white training shirt and deep blue breeches, the cuffs tightly secured. I picked up my practice sword.

The heavy winter snow granted me some leisure time, allowing me more freedom to do as I pleased. And so, I practiced my swordsmanship. Although my routine hadn't changed over the past two years, I was working even harder this winter.

All because there were less than two months left until the entrance ceremony of the Royal Grammar Academy.

Once the spring term starts, the main storyline of my tale will officially begin.

As I walked, I began to reflect on what exactly I had accomplished over these past two years.

First was my swordsmanship.

I had studied the sword under Shirune for two whole years. Her style was called the Silver Moon Style, a half-demon sword technique passed down from her mother.

It sounded lovely, but practicing it was pure hell.

The core of the Silver Moon Style was “using softness to overcome strength”—deflecting and redirecting the opponent's force to defeat them. It demanded light, agile footwork and extremely flexible wrists.

Sounds very elegant, right? But in reality?

I entered the estate's training room and began the hellish process of honing my sword skills.

“Miss, your center of gravity is off again.”

“Miss, do not stiffen your wrists. The power isn't reaching the tip of your sword.”

“Miss, this form requires you to borrow their force, not block it head-on. You are tensing your shoulders. Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

Ugh... please excuse my agonized expression.

During the first year, I swung my sword five hundred times a day.

Shirune stood by my side every day, strictly tapping my wrists, elbows, shoulders, and knees with a thin bamboo cane. If any part of my posture deviated from the standard, the cane would come down.

With a sharp smack, it would remind me, “You got this part wrong.”

By the end of the first year, my wrists were covered in thin red welts. I had to soak my hands in cold water before bed just to soothe the throbbing ache.

But I absolutely refused to give up.

To return to my original world, read web novels, play dating games, and read manga... Okay, just kidding. In truth, nobody wants to die. It was as simple as that.

I progressed from barely surviving to swinging my sword five hundred times in one go without my wrists trembling.

By the second year, Shirune began sparring with me.

She used an unsharpened wooden sword, while I used an equally blunt iron sword. Yes, an iron sword, because a wooden one was still too light for me. According to Shirune, this style required mastering a heavy sword before moving on to a light one.

Well, what else could I do? Practice it was.

We would stand on the edge of the estate's lawn, our shadows stretched long by the sun. Ah, what a wonderful time it was, trading blows (and by that, I mean me getting unilaterally thrashed).

And now, here we were in the training room of the estate—

“Silver Moon Style, First Form: Flower in the Mirror, Moon in the Water.”

As she spoke, her wooden sword pointed diagonally at the ground, her body turning slightly.

Then, she moved, incredibly fast.

With the swiftness of a barracuda darting through water, her wooden sword traced an arc, thrusting toward my shoulder. I hurriedly raised my sword to parry.

But the moment her blade made contact with mine, it slid along with my force, slipping past and thrusting from a completely different angle.

The tip of her sword tapped my wrist.

Ouch, ouch, ouch!

“Your eyes are following the sword, not the person.”

“...Yes.” Come to think of it, I rarely bowed my head and admitted my mistakes like this, but doing so in front of someone who wasn't a threat to my secret was perfectly fine.

The heavy hand of the world's will wouldn't restrict me here.

Still, to prevent being labeled with things like “dissociative identity disorder” or “demonic possession,” I didn't completely let my guard down in front of Shirune. Lately, I would still occasionally act like a villainess, making her feel as though she was simply a special exception to my usual demeanor.

It was a classic trope from dating games that I just had to utilize.

“The Silver Moon Style does not watch the opponent's sword,” Shirune said. “Watch their shoulders. Only when the shoulders move will the sword follow.”

“Right, right,” I said.

“Again.”

And so, we went again. Once. Ten times. A hundred times.

In the past—well, let me describe my progress this way.

During the first week, I couldn't even touch her sword.

By the first month, I could touch her sword, but I couldn't block it.

By the third month, I could block her first form, but she still had the second, third, and fourth.

After half a year, I could finally survive ten exchanges under her blade.

After a year, thirty exchanges.

And now, two years later—

“Silver Moon Style, Seventh Form: Moonless Shadow.”

Shirune's voice drifted from across the room.

The wooden sword spun in her hand before thrusting straight forward—much faster than usual.

I took a half-step back, angling my iron sword to block.

The moment her sword tip met my blade, I didn't use force. Instead, I gave it a gentle flick, redirecting her momentum to the side. Her sword slid away, and I took a step forward, thrusting my iron sword back along the path of her deflected blade.

The tip of my sword stopped three inches from her throat.

Shirune looked down, glancing at the tip of my iron sword. Then, she raised her head and looked at me.

In her crimson eyes, there was a very faint, gentle shimmer, like moonlight reflecting on a lake.

“...Very good,” she said.

Her voice was as cold and steady as usual. But her tail gave a gentle swish. What a quiet little thing.

I lowered my sword, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

Shirune definitely hadn't been serious. I had no idea how much of her strength she had actually used, but technically, I had won this spar. I tossed my sword aside, sweating profusely.

Seeing this, Shirune pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to me. It was white, with a small lily of the valley embroidered in the corner.

It was identical to the one I had stuffed into her hands two years ago.

Only, the edges were slightly frayed and faded now.

“Thank you.”

I took the handkerchief and wiped the sweat from my face. It carried a faint scent of cedar, the exact same fragrance as her hair.

“...Miss.”

“Yes.”

“Your Silver Moon Style has finally reached the basic level.”

...Yep, she definitely wasn't trying.

“Only the basic level?”

“The Silver Moon Style is a sword style that can be practiced all the way to the Sixth Stage. This rank is universally recognized by generations of Sword Saints as the absolute pinnacle of swordsmanship. As a King-class sword style, the Silver Moon Style is defined within the kingdom as exceptionally difficult to master.”

“There are thirteen forms in total. You have only mastered the physical forms of the first seven. The intent and the energy will still require time.”

That sounded incredibly complicated.

“...I see.” I had no intention of digging deeper.

I handed the handkerchief back to her. She trembled slightly, her cheeks flushing as she stared at the handkerchief as if she were about to drool, but she ultimately held herself back and didn't take it.

It had my sweat on it.

“Please keep it, Miss... You still need to wipe your sweat.”

“...Oh.” I suppose it would be better to wash it before returning it to her? Though, considering I took milk baths every single day, even my sweat probably had a pleasant fragrance. This aristocratic lifestyle really made me feel like those Mary Sue novels were actually based on reality.

Haha, just kidding.

Shirune eventually turned to pack away the training equipment. I stood in place, washed the handkerchief, and returned it to her, bringing an end to my swordsmanship training for the day.

...

I returned to my room. It was time for the second thrilling part of my day to begin.

It was now afternoon, and lunch was already over. During the winter, absolutely no one came to bother me. Even Eliot wouldn't, since he had astronomy theory classes in the afternoon. His tutor's lessons were the absolute worst—mind-numbing and endlessly long. Just thinking about it made me laugh with sinister glee, “Hehehehe!”

And the second thrilling thing I mentioned was, of course, magic.

Aside from swordsmanship, I practiced magic every single day.

If swordsmanship was for self-defense, then magic was something I was genuinely, deeply interested in. After all, such a concept didn't exist in my past life. I had always admired cultivation novels, but there was no way to actually cultivate back then. Yet, this world had real magic.

Magic could also boost my combat power, and since I loved having the best of both worlds, I had spent the last two years thoroughly reading through all the Simplified Chinese ancient texts in the Aldheim family's old archives.

There were twenty-three volumes in total.

Their contents ranged from the fundamentals of mana theory, crop ripening, and basic alchemy, to the taming of magical beasts, an encyclopedia of daily life magic, and even a book titled 《The Transmigrator's Handbook: Introduction to Another World's Magic from Scratch (Third Edition)》.

My predecessor was truly thoughtful.

On the title page of that book, a small line of text was written: “To all the poor bastards who got sent here by a truck—don't worry, your predecessor made it through the same way.”

Haha.

In any case, I read that line several times. Then, hugging the book to my chest, I sat down on the dusty floor of the old archives and flipped it open.

I had learned a great deal of magic from those ancient books.

First was Growth Acceleration—the very spell that could turn an apple sapling into a full-grown apple tree. Now, I could make a single seed go through the entire cycle from sprouting to bearing fruit within a mere fifteen minutes.

Apples, pears, tomatoes, wheat, herbs—as long as it was a plant, I could ripen it.

This way, even if I had to flee into the deep wilderness in the future, I wouldn't have to worry about starving to death.

Speaking of which, the first time I successfully ripened wheat, I was absolutely thrilled looking at that small handful of golden ears in my palm. Malt beer, malt candy... if the day ever came where I truly had to flee into the mountains, I could still live a happy life!

Though, it certainly wouldn't compare to the luxury of my current milk and rose petal baths.

Clear Spring Spell—my second spell.

It condensed moisture from the air to form drinkable, clean water. The reason for learning it was quite self-explanatory.

At first, I could only condense a small cup, but now I could fill an entire water barrel with plenty of mana to spare. After all, while practicing these spells, my overall mana capacity was also being honed.

Starting from half a year ago—

Well, should I explain this in detail as well?

During the first week of practicing magic, my mana would often deplete after casting just a dozen or so spells, leading to exhaustion, nosebleeds, and in severe cases, fainting spells.

Fortunately, these episodes didn't last long and weren't discovered by the servants. I also knew my body was still growing, so I wasn't afraid!

After the first month, I could continuously cast over twenty spells before collapsing to the ground, utterly exhausted, to the point where I didn't even want to lift a finger.

But I usually gritted my teeth and kept pushing through.

By the third month, I could successfully cast the growth spell a hundred times in a row, leaving me merely drenched in sweat, still able to move my fingers and pick up a cup of water to drink on my own.

After half a year, I would actually yawn while casting these low-tier spells, barely feeling any drain on my mana.

But I knew it wasn't because the spells required less mana, but rather because my total mana capacity had increased. After all, one's mana pool could be expanded through training during childhood.

In short, no matter how much I pushed myself, I rarely ran completely out of mana anymore, and that feeling of being totally drained of magic seldom occurred.

And so, after a year, I began exploring the mid-tier spells in the ancient texts, flipping to the last hundred pages to study them.

The spells in these ancient books were very old, so there were bound to be differences compared to modern magic, such as power, mana circuits, and mana consumption. However, I had no way of learning about modern magic, as there was no one to teach me.

I could only quietly study this on my own.

By the way, here are the mid-tier spells I've mastered:

Wind Control Spell—supposedly used to blow-dry freshly washed hair with wind magic, but in reality, it was a highly powerful wind blast that could shatter wooden barrels into splinters.

However, the creator didn't seem to think much of it. The source of this spell was that book, 《How to Solve Daily Life Problems with Magic in Another World (Volume 1)》.

On the title page, the author had written: “The sole reason I learned this spell is because I didn't want to dry my hair with a towel. It's too exhausting.”

Ah, I completely relate.

Even though the maids took care of it for me, I now fully understood just how troublesome a girl's long hair could be.

Adjusting the intensity of the spell by controlling the mana output was also part of my training. That was why I liked this spell so much; I could increase the output to make it powerful enough to kill, or keep it extremely low just to dry my hair, training myself in the process.

Next was the second one.

Kindling Spell—it could ignite a small flame at my fingertips, perfect for lighting candles, fireplaces, or kitchen stoves.

It sounded rather useless, but don't jump to conclusions just yet.

The first time I successfully cast it, I tried increasing the intensity. Oh boy, these ancient spells really packed a punch. Once the mana output was cranked up, the flames shot straight to the ceiling, nearly burning down everything in my room!

The most useful part was that it could transform into a sword of fire. I could hold it in my hand and change its length at will. It looked incredibly cool.

And of course, it could be used for roasting food or wilderness survival. It was truly practical, wasn't it?

Earth Wall Spell—raising a wall of earth from the ground for defense.

The ancient texts claimed that once mastered, this spell could raise an entire fortress wall. At present, I could only summon a wall two meters high and three meters wide.

I had learned one or two spells from each element, so I won't go through them all. After all, over the course of two years, I had managed to squeeze out quite a bit of progress.

Even if my family's demands were incredibly strict.

Finally, there were two heavyweight spells that I had to highlight.

Mana Perception—sensing the fluctuations of mana around me.

This was the first spell I learned that required no casting gestures. Now, I could sense any mana source within a fifty-meter radius. I knew the mana within Shirune was silvery-white, like moonlight falling on snow.

During our tea parties, the mana within Misha was a faint, pale yellow, shimmering like honeyed water, indicating that her magic circuits were currently developing.

As for Eliot, I couldn't perceive any mana from him at all. After all, he was only nine years old—oh wait, was he ten this year?

And then, there was the spell to control my own mana.

Mana Restraint—allowing me to freely control the amount of my massive mana that I released. To put it in layman's terms, it was like those classic cultivation novels where a Golden Core eccentric uses a technique to disguise themselves as a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

I had mastered this spell and practiced it constantly.

As a result, even Shirune, who had initially harbored some suspicions, no longer doubted me. She couldn't sense any unusual mana fluctuations from me because I had hidden most of it away, only revealing the natural amount expected of a growing child.

These spells were all from those ancient books.

I doubted many people in the modern era knew them, simply because the prerequisite was being able to read Simplified Chinese.

There were still many spells in those ancient texts that I hadn't mastered yet.

Some were due to insufficient mana, while others were because I simply couldn't understand them. Even though they were written in Simplified Chinese, the sections involving advanced magic theory still looked like gibberish to me, akin to staring at calculus equations.

Heavens, quite pathetic, isn't it?

But fortunately, I was in no rush. I practiced every day. The first thing I did upon waking up each morning was to recklessly use my internal mana to roast things, melt the snow outside my window, and then cast water spells, entertaining myself back and forth.

And so, my mana pool continued to grow.

I rarely depleted it entirely. If I had to say, the last time I practiced a high-tier spell, I felt a long-lost exhaustion after casting it three times in a row. That spell was incredibly powerful, and I had to contain its force with a defensive barrier.

Reflecting on it, all those tiny increments added together had transformed my mana significantly over this period.

But as for how much my mana capacity had actually increased, I had no idea.

This was because the kingdom's standardized mana training wouldn't begin until the coronation ceremony.

At that time, even if one's magic circuits weren't fully mature, the cathedral's bishop would give them a push, allowing mana to steadily flood and fill the body, establishing a channel of entry.

As for me?

Well, I didn't know what was going on with my body's structure, but when I first started practicing magic, I easily got nosebleeds and fainted. I suppose that was a sign of immature magic circuits, but under my constant honing, they had developed prematurely.

As the ancient books said: mana is like a muscle; the more you use it, the stronger it gets. That transmigrator predecessor definitely hadn't lied to me.

...

By the time I finished all my practice, dusk had already fallen.

I sat at my desk, writing in my diary.

Feeling rather sentimental.

Working so tirelessly to learn all of this was solely to ensure my fate would go more smoothly on the grand stage that lay ahead.

The ultimate goal of both my swordsmanship and magic training was to possess the power of self-preservation on that upcoming stage.

The Royal Grammar Knight Academy.

Its full name was the “Royal Knight and Magic Academy,” commonly abbreviated as the “Grammar” Academy.

This was the academy I was about to enter.

Its grounds were roughly ten times the size of the Aldheim estate. The main hall was a greyish-white stone building, rumored to have a history of three hundred years. Its outer walls were draped in ivy, which turned a breathtaking deep red in autumn.

The academy boasted its own riding grounds, training fields, magic laboratories, library, and student dormitories.

There was also a standalone martial arena where the annual final exams were held, with members of the royal family and major nobility attending to spectate.

The enrollment age was a perfectly wholesome age that shall remain unnamed.

The curriculum lasted for four years.

There were two conditions for admission, and meeting either was sufficient: possessing mana talent, or being of noble birth.

Speaking of which, the reason nobles were nobles, aside from historical factors, lay in their bloodlines. Most noble lineages naturally possessed mana from birth.

Occasionally, commoners with talent for mana would appear. They could take a separate selection exam, and passing it would grant them royal sponsorship to enroll.

The protagonist, Liliana, enrolled in exactly this manner. In the game, she was the only commoner of her year to pass the selection exam.

After all, such opportunities became increasingly monopolized as time marched on. In the past, there might have been fifty or sixty commoners, but as bloodlines grew more refined, the monopoly tightened, leading to the current state of affairs.

Upon entering, all students were divided into three branches: the Swordsmanship Department, the Magic Department, and the Comprehensive Department. The Swordsmanship Department focused on swordsmanship and physical training. Most graduates went on to join the knight orders, though it wasn't mandatory; they could choose to join the military, operate independently, or simply obtain a certificate to teach elsewhere.

The Magic Department focused on magic theory and combat casting. Most graduates joined the Court Mages or the Alchemists' Guild, though this too was optional.

The Comprehensive Department taught a bit of everything. It was generally where those with low mana or failed magic circuit development ended up, serving as a way to preserve the dignity of noble families' less-gifted children.

However, this department wasn't entirely useless. In fact, it had its own unique advantages, which I'll explain later. Graduates from the Comprehensive Department actually had the widest variety of career paths.

Returning to the plot.

In the game, Loris was a freshman in the Magic Department. Since magic students didn't need to engage in close-quarters combat, she could comfortably stand far in the back and hurl fireballs. Furthermore, the Magic Department's uniform was the most beautiful—a deep blue robe with silver trim, adorned with a Mages' Guild badge at the collar.

I actually quite liked the Magic Department myself, so there was no need to change that aspect... though, in truth, I probably couldn't change it even if I wanted to.

As for Liliana.

She was the heroine of the game, a commoner girl holding the title of the “Light of Healing.”

Kind, resilient, pure-hearted, and universally adored.

Loved by all the capture targets.

And she was also the target of intense jealousy from the plot-driven Loris. In the game, Loris would place thumbtacks in her shoe locker, publicly humiliate her commoner background at balls, burn the hem of her skirt with fireball spells, threaten her to “stay away from His Highness,” rally other noble children to ostracize her, tear up her homework, and pour ink over her bed...

Wow, what an incredibly wicked woman.

Can I really change this storyline? Based on my past experience with the will of the world, I fear the differences will only be minor at best.

I certainly have no desire to bully Liliana.

But my own wishes didn't matter. I suppose I could only do what I did with Eliot—under the watchful eye of providence, concealing a tiny bit of “goodness” within a shell of “evil.”

As long as I could make her feel that Loris von Aldheim was an annoying person, but not someone who deserved to die.

That in itself would be a victory.

As for how to actually pull that off, I would leave that to my future self after the entrance ceremony. Well, do your best, future me!

After finishing my diary entry, I gave a massive stretch.

Yawning, I stood before the mirror once more to change before heading down for dinner. A maid walked in to double-check my styled hair. My blonde drill twintails were perfectly neat, without a single stray strand. I curled the corners of my mouth, trying to put on my “natural” expression.

With the corners of my mouth curled slightly upward and my eyes half-squinted, I adopted a haughty, high-and-mighty look that practically begged to be slapped.

I took a deep breath.

Time to pry open that damn storyline.

Liliana, wait for me!

(Voiceover: One month later, on the other side of the royal capital, a commoner girl with light pink hair stood in a rented attic, adjusting her uniform in front of a mirror. Her uniform was a standard-issue school outfit, lacking the silver trim of the Magic Department—just a plain white shirt and a dark grey skirt. She wore it immaculately, fastening the top button of her collar.

Then, looking into the mirror, she forced a bright smile.

“It's okay, Liliana. You can do this.”

Her voice was sweet and endearing as she cheered herself on. She picked up the admission letter from the table and clutched it to her chest as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

What she didn't know was that, back in the Aldheim Ducal Domain, a certain “villainess” whose fate was destined to entwine with hers was currently eating a lavish dinner with a look of deep sorrow. She was seriously contemplating the ultimate philosophical question: “How can I act like a proper villainess so that the heroine doesn't hate me to death?”)

...

Volume 1: Newly Arrived Childhood (End)