The Romance Fantasy Novel MC is Only Into Me

Screams. Death. Flames. Smoke. Bloodshot eyes. Mud. Fire. Shouts. The pounding of hooves, the clashing of steel, the thud of bodies falling and pursuers chasing.
For Ransell, the battlefield was perhaps even more familiar than home. At the very least, he had spent over fifty years here—and had died here.

A time when he endlessly pursued strength. A time when he still had plenty of will left inside. A time when he wandered endlessly, searching for someone he could never meet again.
Ransell faced a man with eyes similar to his own from that time. A man holding a sword, walking steadily through the wheat field with the burning battlefield behind him.
“Sir Ransell. A duel, please.”

“You’re quite the glory-seeker.”
Ransell drew his sword against the advancing Adelhardt. His aura was noticeably different from before.
“Lower your stance. Step back.”

“Lord Ransell...!”
Marigold’s shout faded as Ransell moved quickly.
Adelhardt did the same.

The energy boiling from his whole body flowed subtly through the sword’s tip. The shimmering blade emitted a faint blue light wrapped in heat haze.
“You’ve grown, Adelhardt.”
“Thanks to your teaching, Sir Ransell. I am deeply grateful.”

“Teaching geniuses is always rewarding.”
“I was taught that surpassing one’s master is a disciple’s duty.”
“Not quite the master yet.”

Their swords flew toward each other simultaneously.
Clang!
Ransell’s blade slid along Adelhardt’s, tracing a graceful arc as it sliced through the wheat, passing his body.

“...!”
Adelhardt dropped to his knees in the field. Wheat leaves cut by the blade showered like petals overhead.
“How...?”
Just once.

There was no second strike.
The duel was decided with a single move.
“I thought I was closing in...”

His face showed despair, awe, and sorrow.
Adelhardt had grown step by step over the years through blood, sweat, setbacks, and tears.
But the fight hadn’t lasted past one exchange. The more he pondered it, the more hollow it felt.

Ransell had experienced the same several times: decades of effort melting away in one arrow, one sword strike.
“...”
At last, Adelhardt’s expression softened as he stared at his fallen sword hilt.

“I’m sorry for showing such a pathetic sword.”
“Call it bad luck.”
Ransell helped the retreating Marigold up and replied.

“Maybe you could’ve become stronger than me if you’d had enough time and a master.”
There were many geniuses on this continent, and Adelhardt was among the best, but he still lacked the time and chance to surpass Ransell.
“Your talent was far greater than mine, a mere ordinary man in both mind and body. I say that sincerely.”

“You flatter me.”
Leaving the collapsing Adelhardt behind, Ransell crossed the wheat field again.
“Huff, huff!”

“Already tired?”
“N-no, huff, huff, huff!”
He pulled Marigold’s arm and ran for quite some time.

Then—
“Lord Ransell! Ahead!”
Hundreds of cavalry blocked Ransell’s path, leaving the battlefield behind.

“Manager Mary! There you are! We’ve been searching for you for a long time!”
The armored Fifth Prince and his knights appeared.
Even the Lunter Marquis, who had just lost his son, was among them.

“There’s nowhere left to run in this vast plain. You either die here or come with me! Choose, Manager Mary... no.”
He threw off his helmet, his face passing through waves of passion: anger, love-hate, curses, possessiveness.
“Marigold.”

Ransell pulled the trembling Marigold back once again.
“Obsessive men aren’t popular, Your Highness.”
 
“Wasting precious lives over just one woman? You really are foolish, Ransell Dante.”

“To think Your Highness would say that while risking tens of thousands for one woman. Don’t you pity the soldiers fighting without commanders over there?”
“Foolish talk.”
The Fifth Prince bared his teeth in a smile.

“To me, she’s worth it.”
Smoke from the burning wheat soared to the sky’s peak.
The prince pointed a finger at Ransell.

“Capture Manager Mary alive. Kill Ransell Dante here and bring me his head. Leaving him alive will only cause trouble.”
Marigold’s face turned pale.
“S-surrender…! I will surrender...!”

“Stay still.”
Ransell cut the back of Marigold’s neck with his scabbard as she tried to move forward.
“Gack!”

He gently lowered her fallen body to the ground.
‘Did I hit too hard?’
Bringing his finger to her nose, she was breathing. Marigold’s face was peaceful, even snoring lightly.

‘She’s fine.’
Ransell chuckled.
Behind them, the cavalry closed in. The Lunter Marquis, who had lost his son, was approaching on foot.

“Ransell. Your presence here means my son is no longer among the living.”
“So it is. I apologize for taking your precious son to the afterlife, Marquis. Truly.”
“No need to apologize. I’m the one sorry. I even abandoned chivalry to settle my grudge.”

“Group lynching hardly fits chivalry.”
Ransell raised his sword.
He faced over three hundred knights, including the Lunter Marquis.

Of course, he had no chance of winning. But this was a battlefield. He knew exactly how to break their morale.
“Die gracefully, Ransell Dante.”
Ignoring the sneering Fifth Prince, Ransell charged in.

“What...!”
“My lord!”
The space compressed as the Fifth Prince’s face suddenly neared. He hurriedly drew his sword but it was too late.

Ransell’s blade lightly pierced the Fifth Prince’s heart. The prince’s face turned grim as he coughed blood.
“...Ransell... Dante...!”
“I’m glad I never sent Marigold to you. I might have to thank the Sixth Prince someday. He’s the only one who’s ever helped me.”

Blood splattered across the wheat field as the Fifth Prince’s body slid off his horse.
“My lord...!”
The knights’ horrified cries followed.

“Ransell Dante!”
“Traitor! Capture him!”
“Traitor who killed royalty! Kill him!”

A traitor?
In this case, was he a traitor to traitors?
‘Hmph.’

Who knows.
“Die!”
“Traitor Ransell Dante!”

Blades rained down on him.
.
.

.
“Here! Here!”
The imperial reinforcements, rushing to the wheat field on urgent news, were dumbfounded. Far from the battlefield, one area of the field was filled with corpses.

An area they hadn’t paid attention to. There, dozens of armored knight corpses lay scattered.
“Eek!”
A man in golden armor soon became visible to them.

“The Fifth Prince...! Prince Ervin.”
“So all these are...”
All the bodies strewn across the vast field were the Fifth Prince’s knights.

 
“Peaceful.”
The evening was so quiet it was almost unthinkable that it was a battlefield; only the sound of insects chirping filled the tranquil air.
Ransell lowered his gaze. Marigold was nestled in his arms.

They were alone in a dark, gloomy cave.
“Phew.”
Since it was a fight they couldn’t win, Ransell chose to flee.

When the casualties exceeded dozens, the knights who lost their lord began to visibly lose morale.
Seizing a rare moment of disorder, Ransell fled recklessly.
Low in the waist-high wheat, he crouched flat and dragged Marigold along—very cowardly.

Once over the valley, the path to the capital would open.
They could find a village, secure supplies, get a carriage, or wait for the train to the capital.
‘So far, so good.’

But Ransell hastily sought shelter in a cave. There was a reason he had to.
“Lunter Marquis, abandoning chivalry completely was too much.”
Among the many wounds covering his body, he clutched a particularly deep one.

A small object was lodged in his chest. A palm-sized arrow. A crossbow bolt.
What could he do?
Dozens of knights fired crossbows simultaneously; it was impossible to dodge everything in the chaotic fight.

Eventually, one bolt from the Lunter Marquis pierced him, leading to this state. The Marquis had ultimately avenged his son.
If this had been the third loop’s Ransell, he wouldn’t have been hit. Or maybe he would have survived it cleanly.
But the now lazier Ransell found both difficult.

‘Honestly, how can anyone live consistently for hundreds of years?’
He felt wronged.
Still, he tried to exercise and train whenever he had time. He was lazy, but not a complete slacker.

He wanted to claim that.
“Ugh.”
As he tried to wipe a bitter taste, Marigold stirred in his arms.

“...Lord Ransell...?”
She felt herself waking.
“Where is this... What happened?”

“Everything’s fine now. Just one more mountain to cross. The train comes next month, so rest a bit and then take it.”
Ransell mumbled, almost making excuses.
It was a poor excuse.

Marigold sensed something was wrong and began to touch his body.
Her eyes quickly filled with nausea when she saw the blood soaking his palm.
“How, how did this happen...?”

“...Maybe you fell while coming here?”
Ransell joked, but it didn’t work.
Finally noticing the arrow in his chest, tears streamed down Marigold’s face.

“Lord Ransell...!”
“Mary, people die.”
Even his triumphant line failed.

“Everything, everything...”
Tears poured uncontrollably from Marigold’s eyes.
“It’s all because of me, Lord Ransell.”

“No. It’s because I was lazy. That’s why...”
“It’s because of me. Because of me, everyone close to me disappears. Always, always...”
Her voice trembled aimlessly.

“The people I love—my mom, dad, dog, horse, butler, house, wildflowers in the yard, friends, even Lord Ransell... all because of me...”
“That’s not like you, Manager Mary, to belittle yourself.”
“But it’s the truth. It’s all true.”

Ransell’s eyes sank deeply.
‘...So that’s why you kept your distance from me at first?’
In any case, Marigold had a tragic fate.

More than losing family, name, and status at age ten, something like a curse haunted her life.
Ransell wondered if he might be part of that too.
A wave of regret swept over him.

What if he had done better? If he had thought more carefully? If he had tried harder?
—Next time, I’ll do... better...
—Do what?

—...Just... anything...
Only then did Ransell understand the feelings of the looping Marigold.
Unlike him, who had become numb to time and death, she was different.

Even when lazy or gluttonous, her feelings toward Ransell were sincere.
Perhaps that was the difference between Ransell and Marigold.
Between him, who treated her as a tool or insurance, and her, who treated him as fate.

His conscience pricked uncomfortably.
“Huh...”
Just as Marigold’s crying threatened to grow louder, Ransell gently pinched her nose.

“Mary. Give me a chance.”
“...?”
Ransell looked at her more seriously than ever.

“I will prove that all your sorrow and tragedy... all the relationships and happiness you lost... were never your fault.”
He raised his hand and wiped away her tears. Carefully, he brushed her hair as if it were molten gold.
“I will prove you’re not to blame... Just wait until then.”

His vision blurred.
He must have lost too much blood.
Yeah. It was a miracle he had survived this long.

“Surely... Mary... your happiness...”
His eyes closed.
His strength faded.

‘Surely.’
He heard stifled sobbing from Marigold’s lips.
That was Ransell’s last memory.

Ten years passed.
.
.

.
[Playtime: 10 years 0 days]
—Marigold has reached 25 years old.

—No spouse.
—Achievements obtained.
▶High-ranking administrative official +200 points.

▷Academy’s top student +50 points.
▶Owner of mechanical workshop +50 points.
▷Firearms technician +50 points.

—Total score: 350 points. (Remaining score for memory inheritance 2nd loop: 650/1500 points)
[Normal Ending 66. Sharpshooter Marigold]
—The ending has been recorded in the ‘Memory Album.’

—Opening the album.
.
.

.
Bang!
‘Fired.’

Bang!
‘Fired again.’
Bang!

‘One more time.’
The metal ball shot through the long pipe pierced armor, filling Marigold with exhilaration.
‘Success, Master! The malfunction is completely gone!’

‘Yeah. It’s finally complete.’
Her long-running workshop had finally borne fruit.
A hand cannon.

A gun.
Marigold firmly believed this would change the era.
‘If even /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ a child can pull the trigger with enough strength, it’s enough to kill a knight.’

Magic that requires no training, a machine that shoots flames, power that pierces armor.
—The bane of chivalry.
‘Watch closely. The era of knights is coming to an end.’

Long-forgotten memories rekindled inside Marigold holding the gun.
The burning wheat field, the pounding hooves, the clashing swords, even the image of the countless knights who attacked her fiancé.
‘The era of the knights who made him die.’

[Sharpshooter Marigold - fin]
—Would you like to restart the game?
.

.
.
“Technology.”

Quitting a high-ranking official job to open a workshop.
Ransell held his head, overwhelmed by her unpredictable changes.
Of course, since he had died in this loop, it would have been a problem if the loop had ended here.

Even the ‘high-ranking official route’ thought to be orthodox had twisted so strangely, it baffled Ransell.
‘What now?’
He pondered.

He needed a plan.
A goal to replace the Queen Consort ending.
He also needed to hold back dying uselessly.

‘Maybe I should at least see a proper ending?’
A proper ending.
Like the ‘High-ranking official Marigold’ he hadn’t seen this time—those endings pushed as canonical in the game.

The most orthodox was marriage, but there were quite a few canonical endings besides that.
‘What would be best?’
In the end, how Marigold would appear was the key.

No matter how much Ransell planned, if natural Marigold suddenly appeared, all would be lost.
‘Hmm.’
We’ll see.

“People who use swords are disgusting.”
In the next loop that came.
“I just hate knights.”

Ransell met Marigold, who had developed knight-phobia.
“To be honest, I don’t like you either.”
Her hatred of knights was so strong that even Ransell, who was always gentle, couldn’t escape her sharp gaze.

Because Ransell was a knight.
He was the son of a traditional knight family.
‘From walls to hatred…?’

Shock.
Disbelief.
Disappointment.

“Magic is the best! Magic is great! I love magic!”
And so,
Ransell met ‘Apprentice Mage Marigold.’

“I love magic! Love it! Love it!”
“...”
A bit too obsessed with magic.

[Administrative Official Marigold - End]
[Next – Mage Marigold]