I remember the story of a novel I had read in my previous life just before my marriage. If you don’t mess up the wedding, you’ll be poisoned by your husband! So I kissed the pastor who was in charge of the ceremony.

“Commander, are you alright?” shouted one of the holy knights as he approached the pastor who was kissed.

Huh, what?

Wait … are you the commander of the Holy Knights?

Rurutia, who was about to die, wanted to spend her last moment in a temple where she felt at ease the most. She started a business with her friends for the temple, and it was a big hit.

“Miss, you have the world in the palm of your hands!”

“Are you a God who has descended to Earth?”

In the midst of being embarrassed by the large crown, the commander of the holy knights himself was also acting strange.

“All I wish for is to be your husband,” he said, his eyes shining with obsession. “Take responsibility for stealing my first kiss.”

This is all so wrong.

It seems that I changed my future.