Erica had once believed she was loved.
That belief did not shatter all at once—it eroded, slowly and persistently, until nothing remained but something bitter and unrecognizable.
At first, it was subtle.
Cold silences. Averted gazes. A growing disinterest that settled into the walls of their home like damp rot.
Then came the women.
One after another, they were brought into the house that was supposed to be hers—the only place she had ever called safe. He made no effort to hide them. Sometimes, it felt deliberate, as though her presence was part of the performance.
A witness.
A reminder.
The humiliation was not sudden. It was cultivated. Carefully, methodically, until even her sense of self began to fracture.
What had once been disappointment slowly twisted into something sharper.
Something colder.
Hatred.
On the days he did not bring strangers home, he turned his attention to her instead. Not with affection—but with force. And when she resisted, when she dared to fight back, the consequences were always worse.
The beatings grew longer.
Crueler.
Still… she endured.
A small, stubborn part of her clung to hope. Fragile and foolish, but alive all the same. Perhaps he would change. Perhaps something in him would remember what they once were.
That hope died the day she went to her mother-in-law.
She had expected help.
Instead, she was met with scorn.
A lecture followed—cold, unwavering. A wife's duty, she was told, was to endure. To submit. To remain silent, no matter the circumstances.
That was the day Erica understood.
She was alone.
Completely.
—
Then, something changed.
Her husband stopped bringing different women home.
For a brief, fleeting moment, hope stirred again—unwanted, uninvited. Perhaps guilt had finally reached him. Perhaps this was the beginning of something different.
She was wrong.
The next woman he brought was not a stranger.
Erica recognized her immediately.
His first love.
The one he had failed to win over in his youth.
And the way he treated her…
It was nothing like before.
There was no cruelty, no force, no degradation.
Only gentleness.
Care.
Love.
That was when Erica truly understood.
All those years…
She had never been anything more than a replacement.
A placeholder.
Something inside her broke.
Not violently. Not loudly.
Just… quietly.
Cleanly.
From that moment on, she stopped hoping.
And started planning.
—
The opportunity came sooner than she expected.
One afternoon, her husband left for work, leaving the two of them alone in the house.
Erica moved with quiet precision.
Every step had already been decided.
Every hesitation buried.
She approached carefully, closing the distance not with force, but with intention—guiding, drawing the other woman in, blurring the space between uncertainty and curiosity.
Resistance faded.
Not completely, but enough.
What surprised Erica was not the success of her plan.
It was what she felt.
For the first time in years…
There was no fear.
No pain.
Only warmth.
Something real.
Something she had almost forgotten. She laid the woman in bed and it felt right.
—
The door opened.
Everything shattered.
Her husband stood frozen for a single second.
Then the rage came.
It consumed him entirely.
The look on his face—shock twisting into something broken and furious—made Erica smile.
A small, satisfied smile.
He did not ask questions, he did not hesitate.
He attacked.
The blows came fast, heavy, merciless.
This time, Erica did not fight back.
Her body—already worn down by years of suffering—could not endure it.
As the world around her began to fade, her thoughts did not turn to regret.
Instead, they drifted back to that fleeting moment.
That fragile, impossible warmth.
So this is what it feels like…
Her vision darkened.
And then—
Nothing.
—
The darkness did not last.
A sudden flash of white consumed everything, tearing her away from the abyss.
Erica instinctively shut her eyes, bracing herself.
Heaven?
Hell?
Neither.
When the light faded, she found herself sitting in a vast, endless white expanse. Across from her sat a figure—only a silhouette, indistinct yet overwhelmingly present.
The pressure in the air was suffocating.
Instinctively, Erica searched for an escape.
There was none.
Only white.
Endless and absolute.
As she lowered herself, bracing for whatever would come next, a soft, feminine laugh echoed through the void.
Before she could react—
Everything went dark again.
—
She woke with a sharp breath.
Green.
That was the first thing she saw.
An endless stretch of green—towering trees, dense foliage, unfamiliar and alive.
Pain shot through her spine, forcing her upright. Her body moved before her mind could catch up, instincts sharpened by something she could not yet understand.
She scanned her surroundings cautiously.
"Did that bastard dump me in some forest…?" she muttered, irritation bleeding into her voice.
Only after confirming she was alone did she notice it.
The cold air against her skin.
She froze.
Slowly, she looked down.
Naked.
Completely.
She dropped to her knees, arms instinctively covering herself—but something felt… wrong.
Her body did not move the way she expected.
Her breath caught.
Carefully, hesitantly, she looked again.
And her mind went blank.
"…What?"
Her body—
It didn't make sense.
She still had her breasts. Fuller than before.
Her body still undeniably feminine.
And yet…
There was something else.
Something that should not have been there, a large member dangled between her legs.
"…Did I turn into a man after dying…?" she whispered, her voice hollow with disbelief.
But even as she said it, she knew that wasn't right.
It was both.
Her thoughts spiraled, unable to find anything solid to grasp onto.
A cold breeze brushed against her skin again, sending an unfamiliar sensation through her body. She flinched, her expression tightening in confusion and irritation.
"This has to be a hallucination," she muttered, her voice sharper now. "That bastard really did a number on me…"
Then—
A translucent screen appeared in front of her.
She froze.
Name: Erica Mirai
Race: ???
Level: 1
Title: None
HP: 42 / 42
MP: 200 / 200
Stamina: 30 / 30
Strength: 3
Defense: 4
Agility: 5
Intelligence: 70
Skills: None
Erica stared at it in silence.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
At the bottom of the screen, a single option pulsed faintly.
[TUTORIAL]
After a brief hesitation, she selected it.
The screen flickered.
[TUTORIAL]
''Seems you're awake if you're seeing this…
So… that asshole killed you. He's probably still beating your corpse right now.
A kind and generous goddess took pity on you and brought you to a new world—one where swords and magic exist.
If you want to use magic, just think about it.
That's about it. Try not to die again. There are monsters, by the way.
…No, seriously.
Good luck, darling''.]
The screen vanished.
Silence returned.
Erica's hands slowly curled into fists.
"He's… still…?" she muttered, her voice trembling—not with fear, but with anger.
A deep, steady breath followed.
Then another.
The rage settled—not gone, but controlled.
Focused.
"…Fine."
The status screen faded.
For the first time in years, she exhaled without tension tightening her chest.
Then she began to walk.
Cautious, alert and alive.
Minutes passed before she noticed it—a massive footprint pressed into the earth.
She crouched beside it, fingers brushing against the edge.
Dry.
Old.
Relief flickered across her face.
Then—
A voice echoed faintly in her mind.
[Skill acquired: Basic Tracking]
She stiffened.
Another screen appeared.
[Basic Tracking]
Allows the user to identify traces and pathways left by targets. Enhances environmental awareness, including low-light perception.
As she read, something shifted.
The world changed.
Subtle at first—but unmistakable.
Colors deepened. Details sharpened.
The footprint before her took on a faint red hue, a trail extending forward into the forest.
Erica blinked.
"…Well. That's convenient."
She glanced upward, but the sky was hidden behind a dense canopy. Only thin rays of light pierced through the towering trees.
For a moment, she stood still.
Then—
A small smile appeared.
"…Still better than before."
And with that, Erica stepped forward, following the path into the unknown.
For the first time in years—
She felt alive.