I Blue : Reincarnated as a Cursed Crit-Based Swordwoman

The first days were difficult. No, horrible would be a more appropriate word.

Nausea, vomiting, terrible headaches, panic attacks. The whole course.

His health deteriorated so quickly that a doctor—or rather, a healer as he was called—had to be summoned to the manor where he lived.

"At least she doesn't want me to die," Noah thought when he saw his new mother bringing the newcomer in. He then reminded himself that she was probably not doing it for him or even for Vasilisa, but for her husband. Well, whatever her motivation—it wouldn't matter to him for much longer.

His priority was to find a way to accept—or at least tolerate—his new body as quickly as possible.

Indeed, his repeated episodes weren't caused by a lack of HP or stress as the healer had claimed. They stemmed from his inability to accept his new body.

The size, the build, the morphology, the reaction to external stimuli, and especially the gender—none of it felt right. Some days, he seemed to be doing better and could explore the manor; other days, it was nothing but vomiting after vomiting.

However, he eventually found a workaround. If he saw his body more as an avatar, it became easier to control.

When he had trouble controlling his movements, he would tell himself that his "controller was acting up again."

When he suddenly felt disoriented for no reason, he would tell himself that his "camera was playing tricks on him."

These shaky explanations might not have worked in another world, but this one, with its video game-like mechanics, seemed to reinforce his brain's belief that he was in a highly realistic game. He still had panic attacks when he remembered that he didn't know how to "turn off" the game or when his brain made him feel organs he normally shouldn't have anymore. But after two months, he could move around without any problems.

His escape plan could finally be set in motion.

It wasn't all that complicated, actually. He had noticed while sneaking around at night that no servants ever approached his room—no one would notice his disappearance right away.

He couldn't go through the main entrance because of the guard stationed there, but there were plenty of options. The kitchen window, for example—it had no bars and led to the inner courtyard. Furthermore, there was usually no one in the kitchen after a certain hour—Noah eventually guessed this was because the servants knew he snuck in every night hoping to find leftover food.

He wasn't fed in this place but could no longer bring himself to resent the mistress of the house.

He had, after all, heard what Vasilisa—his new body—had done before he inhabited it. She had been invited to a ball where several young nobles were gathered to celebrate a peace treaty with a neighboring country—the war between the two kingdoms had been going on for years and had finally ended.

This dinner was meant to help the youth of both kingdoms get to know each other, but it seemed Vasilisa had insulted the crown prince of the neighboring kingdom. He had then reportedly ordered her thrown into the sea—perhaps to "wash away" the affront—but she had survived, miraculously avoiding all the rocks that should have torn her to shreds. Up to that point, some of the servants seemed to see this as a patriotic act—it appeared they didn't like that neighboring kingdom very much, the name of which escaped him.

However, they all agreed that Vasilisa had gone too far and had "insulted" the third princess of her own kingdom, who had come to her rescue.

Or at least, that was the story going around.

"A diplomatic incident, huh?" Noah thought.

He better understood the woman's reaction now. Not that he excused her, but clearly, the whole family risked execution or something similar. For a woman who wasn't even related to a child by blood, dying—or even just becoming a pariah—because of the latter must have been difficult. At 21 years old, Noah had learned to almost ignore everything as long as there was a reason he could understand behind it, and that was the case here. It was enough to see her wither away a little more each day—could fear of death really harm someone so much?

It was something he hoped to never understand. He himself had never really feared death. Not beyond what his survival instinct allowed, at least. Even that moment when he had desperately screamed for help while drowning had been, for him, merely a reaction of that irritating mechanism.

Anyway, he would have preferred to forget that moment, and it wasn't the most important thing. After a quick analysis, he had decided to go through the window. He took with him a few trinkets that seemed valuable—he could probably eat for a while with those.

The big day came.

He slipped out of his room. As usual, no one was in the hallway, allowing him to head straight to the dimly lit kitchen. However, he quickly encountered an obstacle.

"Zzzzz…"

On one of the countertops lay a very familiar maid, her light brown hair perfectly complementing her maid's uniform—the chief maid, Cécile.

"Ugh…"

Noah froze for a moment before slowly hiding. The timing of this woman couldn't have been worse.

If Noah could somewhat understand the mistress of the house, he didn't understand this young woman at all. She was talented and serious; she wouldn't have been the chief maid at such a young age without at least that.

All the staff seemed to deeply respect her, and the mistress appeared to trust her. For this latter reason, at first, he thought that the way she treated him came entirely from orders she received from her mistress, but he quickly realized it wasn't just that. Her gaze, her tone, the way she turned other staff members against him—or rather, against Vasilisa...

All of it came from barely concealed hostility.

Horrible memories flashed before his eyes.

Nervously, Noah scratched his neck, feeling imaginary stings inside it. He let out a sigh of relief, but there was still the matter of getting rid of Cécile.

Waking her up wasn't an option. It was better to sneak past her and go through the window. Luckily, she was sleeping near the food rations and not the window. She was probably trying to prevent him from sneaking into the kitchen as usual, but this time, she had missed her mark—what he wanted was to escape.

Quietly, he moved a bench to climb onto the countertop by the window. The large wooden window creaked unexpectedly as it opened, but when he looked toward Cécile, her eyes were still closed. A relief, but the wind prevented the shutters from staying open unless he held them manually.

Luckily, everything worked as he wanted—despite the noise, Cécile remained asleep.

Beyond the window, lay a cobblestone expanse bordered by an old stone wall, its jagged silhouette barely visible in the moonlight. Stacks of wooden crates leaned precariously against the wall, their shadows stretching like ominous sentinels. All that was left was to use the storage boxes in the courtyard to build a staircase and climb over the fence.

"Heh. It's like a platformer game," he thought, amused by the turn of events.

Some crates were too heavy to move without making a racket, but like in any platformer game, this "puzzle" had a solution. Once the boxes were stacked, he climbed quickly, ready to reach freedom.

*Crack*

There was a noise. The kind of noise you don't want to hear during a stealth mission. It seemed one of the empty crates had a fragile lid, and it broke loudly under Noah's weight.

"Who's there?!"

This was followed by the phrase you really don't want to hear during a stealth mission. Seems there was no more room for carefulness—it was time to run.

"...!"

His blood froze.

There, standing behind the window he used was Cécile, her yellow eyes fixed on him, an unreadable expression on her face. The sight alone froze him for a moment, but there was no time for that—the other staff members would be there soon.

So he climbed and climbed, until he reached the top of the wall. Now all that was left was to avoid the spear-like spikes mounted on top—a relatively simple task if you had a good base to rely on, like he did, but "his camera was acting up again."

"N-Not… Not…"

Not now, he thought as his vision blurred and nausea threatened to overcome him.

He had to succeed—if he failed, there was a chance security would be tightened. He had to jump! HE HAD TO SUCCEED!!!

"Urgh… Argh…"

A sharp, searing pain tore through his abdomen as the spike punctured his stomach, just left of his navel. The impact forced a strangled gasp from his throat, his vision blurring as his hands instinctively gripped the cold metal. Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and sticky, as he fought the nausea threatening to overwhelm him.

"Huh? Is that… Young Mistress?!"

He failed.

Below, the guards' shouts grew louder, their footsteps closing in. Panic surged through him, but so did defiance. It was only a matter of time before they climbed up and caught him.

It was now clear, he'd reached the Game Over screen.

"Argh! Sh*t! F*CK this!"

A voice erupted from deep within him. Game Over? As if he'd accept such an ending. He didn't have time for another run. It was now or never.

Summoning inhuman strength, he pushed himself off the spike and regained his footing. His vision was still blurry, but it didn't matter—he'd decided to see this through no matter what happened to him next.

"M-Miss! Stop! Stop!"

He could no longer hear them. Pressing against the wound in his stomach, Noah jumped down into the unknown behind the wall, vanishing from the frantic guards' sight.