Diana Beatus, the youngest daughter of the Beatus Duke family, always considered herself utterly ordinary.
Why, you ask?
Because her eldest brother, firmly in place as the heir, left no room for succession disputes, her sister dominated the central social circles, sparing Diana from having to attend social events, and her younger brother had undertaken the family's military duties, leaving no role for the plain youngest child.
Though overshadowed by her renowned siblings in the capital, Diana didn't mind. In fact, she relished it. What a comfortable life it was!
With her siblings shouldering the burdens, Diana, unlike other noble daughters, enjoyed freedom from responsibilities and obligations.
Yet, those envious of her free-spirited life were quick to belittle her.
"Halfwit lady."
Diana didn't care what others said. She never really listened to anyone anyway.
Fulfilling only the bare minimum required by her family, she could enjoy a blissfully carefree life.
That was until she mysteriously fell ill.
When was it? Three years after a red moon appeared, she was afflicted daily, her energy draining away. She suffered from bloody coughs and struggled to breathe on feverish days.
That day, too, was one of her regular doctor visits.
"I say this every time, miss, but it's truly baffling. We can't identify the cause of your illness, nor can we find a cure."
She was tired of hearing the same thing over and over. Lying in bed, she gazed at the ceiling with blurry eyes, wishing she could argue.
"Hey, doctor. Do you really not see this smoke escaping from my body?"
Every time her energy drained, a dark red vapor seemed to rise from her body and drift out of the mansion.
After the doctor left and without realizing it was her birthday, Diana was wracked with unbearable pain. Then, suddenly, a maid rushed in through the door.
"Oh, miss! It's a disaster!"
It was an excruciating pain, like death's approach. She was dying.
"The eldest miss! She's been charged with treason! The prince has ordered an immediate execution!"
The maid's voice faded away. Diana's breath was running out. At the brink of death, she realized.
"An immediate execution by the prince?"
Oh, damn it.
This was the world of a novel.
Just as she realized she was reincarnated into a novel, Diana died, pathetically.
The novel was a dark romance about the prince and a saintess.
The saintess, surrounded by adoring men, and the prince striving to win her over. Meanwhile, Diana's elder sister, cast as the villain, attempts to assassinate the prince who doesn't love her and is executed for treason.
Her eldest brother, the main antagonist, meets a gruesome end, and the villainous family is completely annihilated.
So who was Diana Beatus?
The youngest child in a family of villains, an extra who disappears without significance, barely mentioned in a single line as a terminally ill character.
Ah, life.
"Faint sobs."
"Soft crying."
As she floated toward the sky, her consciousness plummeted back to the ground at the sound of weeping.
Gasping, she took a deep breath. The air felt strange in her lungs.
Her senses, previously engulfed in darkness, began to revive one by one.
"Ah!!"
Her body ached all over.
Was she in hell? Why was the pain not ending even after death?
Tears streamed down her face as she opened her eyes with difficulty.
It hurt so much. The excruciating pain she felt right before dying was starting all over again.
"Please don't die!"
The pitiful wails suddenly turned into a scream.
"I'm already dead." Before she could even ponder on this, something was grasped in her hand.
Diana exhaled a weary breath, clutching tightly onto the object in her hand.
It was a survival instinct. Buried under the objects someone handed her, Diana instinctively embraced them.
Surprisingly, the pain began to fade.
As the intense pain subsided, her grip strengthened.
"Don't leave me and die, big sister!"
How much time had passed? As the pain vanished and Diana regained her composure, she slowly blinked her heavy eyes open.
'Am I alive?'
"Sniffle. Sniffle."
Diana, buried in everything except her face, followed the sound of sniffling and turned her head.
It was a young boy.
Chubby cheeks, adorable features. The boy, his eyes taking up half his face, brimmed with tears.
As their eyes met, the boy began to sob anew.
"Who are… cough"
"I'll get you water!"
The boy, around five or six years old, with red eyes and gray curly hair, hurriedly ran off and returned with a cup of water.
As she sat up, Diana saw what had been covering her.
'Eek. What's this?'
The dolls covering her were sinister and eerie, as if they belonged in a horror movie.
On the giant bed lay a collection of these grotesque dolls.
A chilling aura filled the room. Diana involuntarily swallowed hard.
"Don't worry. They're just cursed dolls."