The Baengri Clan's Unwanted Granddaughter

Chapter 1

* * *

There are different levels of villains.

Some torture the hero until the very end and must be taken out, while others merely pester them before disappearing.

I was just a small fry. Hardly a nuisance for the main character, let alone a real threat. Just as a jewel shines brighter beside a pile of garbage, I was a minor villain who only exists to make the hero look better. A supporting role, basically.

It was far too late that I realized that I was inside a fictional world. I was living inside a novel, and an unhappy one at that.

“Is that Baengri Euigang’s infamous daughter?”

“Oh, the good-for-nothing?”

“That useless waste!”

These dreadful comments followed me all the way to my father’s funeral. A stream of tears fell from my eyes as I stood there, silently listening to their whispers.

“I guess even a pain in the ass like her can shed a tear for her father.”

“Funny. I heard they weren’t even that close to begin with.”

They were right: My relationship with my father was lukewarm at best, closer to bad than to good. He was always disappointed in me, and I was always determined to break free of him.

So, why did I cry for two days straight?

Whether it was because I had just lost my father or because I was thinking about how bleak my future looked, I cried endlessly until I finally collapsed on the third day.

That was when I remembered my previous life.

It came to me so clearly. A mother who’d divorced my father before I could even walk, and a father who beat me every time he drank.

The last memory I had of my father was of him smashing my head against the corner of the kitchen table. That’s when I realized—this world was exactly like the martial arts fantasy novel that I had been reading!

Am I living inside a novel...?

But my life here was truly my own. I remembered everything about the villain’s past, even though the novel had never gotten around to properly developing it.

My caretaker passed away when I was very young. After that, I became an orphan wandering the streets, only to be scooped up by a well-dressed man claiming to be my father.

I went with him willingly. Anything would have been better than having to pick through the garbage for my next meal.

My new father led me to a gargantuan estate. As I walked through the palatial doors guarded by menacing armed soldiers, I remember thinking that things had finally turned around for me.

But to be in that novel of all places!

Looking back on my revelations after the funeral, I picked up the teapot before me with trembling fingers to refill the cup in my other hand. But the pot was empty, and as I lowered my teacup, I accidentally let go of it.

The cup shattered across the stone floor.

There was good reason for me to be shaking so badly. In this novel, the next ten years were marked by countless massacres and characters dying left and right!

The first of those... being my father. Martial master to the protagonist Namgoong Ryuchung and fourth child of the Baengri family of the ten great clans, virtuous enough to turn even the arrogant, selfish Namgoong Ryuchung into a protector of justice: the holy martyr, Baengri Euigang!

That was how the readers saw him.

And then, of course, there was his one and only daughter, Baengri Yeon. The minor villain whose stupidity and greed hindered both the protagonist and her father every step of the way, until she eventually ended up beheaded.

That... was me.

Damn it.

I’d hated her character so much, telling myself that if I were her, I’d never live that way.

That didn’t mean I actually wanted to be her!

Even worse, my father had just passed away, and a terrible war was about to break out. But the worst part of it all was that this novel was an unfinished work!

What do I do...?

I was a villain who didn’t know any martial arts, which meant that I would always be in danger by the protagonist’s side. One swing from anyone, friend or foe, would send me straight to the grave. My only consolation was that the protagonist would be willing to protect me since I was his mentor’s daughter, but I didn’t like the thought of being a burden.

Let’s just get the hell out of here, I decided at that moment.

If I ran away and lay low, no one would remember a worthless character like me. So that’s exactly what I did after that. I ran, and I hid.

But now...

What the hell is he doing here?!

That flawless complexion, that beauty spot at the corner of his eye... He was captivating. There wasn’t a single soul he couldn’t charm with those looks. Of course, there was only one character who fit that description.

Remember when I said that there are different levels of villains? If I was the bottom of the barrel, then this guy was the very top, and the worst villain of them all: Yayul.

Tasked with leading with the Divine Demon Cult’s gruesome massacres, Yayul would eventually rise among the ranks of the eight demonic commanders and make the main character’s life a living hell.

Drip.

Drip.

The moonlight spilling through the cracked window shone upon the source of the dripping sound. It was coming from a head, severed and bodiless.

The stench of fresh blood pierced my nose. Horror washed over me. I staggered backward. This couldn’t be real. None of this was real.

Yayul sneered at me. “How disappointing. To think that I would find the daughter of Baengri Euigang like this.”

“A-are you here to kill me? Why?” I asked.

“You want to know why?”

Of course I wanted to know! After my father’s funeral, I had cut all ties and hidden myself away. I had long since separated myself from the bloodbath of the main storyline. It just didn’t make sense that the final boss would show up to kill a nobody like me!

“Well...” he said.

I was watching his mouth intently when it happened. My field of vision suddenly spun, and the blood-stained floor approached me as if in slow motion.

Something heavy hit the floor with a wet thump. There was a dull ringing that seemed to echo in my whole head rather than my ears.

A satisfied smile crept across his face as crimson blood dripped from the sword in his hand. I hadn’t even seen him unsheathe his sword.

That was how I died.

* * *

Son of a b*tch!

I had tried so hard to escape death by decapitation.

Death by being slammed against a table or death by beheading, it’s just as much of a joke.

Death by beheading would actually be categorized as a merciful death for this novel, but... something was wrong.

It hurts so much...

Could a dead person feel pain? I felt like I was in the pits of hell. Even as I writhed in pain, the back of my hand itched uncontrollably. All my focus turned toward the odd sensation in my hand. It tickled, hot and cold, but it was this itching that finally forced me to open my eyes. Still, I couldn’t see.

A long time passed before my sight returned to me.

A dark room. The crossbeams of the ceiling and the magnolia-shaped windowsills. The embroidered pattern on the indigo silk canopy above the bed. It all looked strangely familiar.

Is this...

The flickering candlelight revealed a person who had been hidden by the shadows.

“Father?” My eyes widened in shock.

Something fell from his eyes.

The moment I saw his tear fall upon my hand, I realized what had woken me up.

Is... this my life flashing before my eyes?

Many women had been infatuated with my father’s handsome looks. Despite this, he had the kind of incorruptible and righteous personality befitting the character of the master in charge of the protagonist’s personal growth. I had only ever seen him cry once before in my life.

“I’m sorry. I should have kept you safe,” he said.

I couldn’t help but smile at those familiar words. Who cares if this is a hallucination, a dream, or hell?

“Father... no, Dad. Don’t cry.”

His mouth fell open and his eyes widened. I’d never seen him so flustered before. Not once in all these years... I laughed, but it quickly turned into a wave of tears that began to well up from inside me.

My relationship with my father had only grown worse as I got older. Forget when he was surprised, I couldn’t remember what his face looked like when he laughed, or even what expression he was making the last time I saw him.

He was truly a good man. I don’t know what he saw in the hero that was worth sacrificing himself for. He may have been a fictional character, but to me, he was real. I only realized after he passed away that he’d been the only person in the story to truly care for a low-level villain like me.

“I’m sorry for everything,” I told him.

Father still looked like he had just seen a ghost.

At that moment, I knew what I needed to do. I had been given one last chance to tell him how I felt.

“I love you,” I said softly.

Father’s eyes bulged. I smiled upon seeing the surprise on his face. Good. I could now leave with no regrets. I could finally rest in peace and—

Father embraced me, squeezing me so tight that I found it hard to breathe. He smelled exactly as I remembered, fresh and clean.

Wow...this feels so real. Wait, hold on. A chill ran down my spine. What is happening? Can a memory feel so real?

Father’s voice trembled with overwhelming emotions. “All this time, I thought you despised me... Now I see I was wrong.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea how you felt. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What?”

What on earth… is going on?