She Became The Devil's Stepmother Who's About To Be Killed

Chapter 1: Chapter One

Sinclair! Sinclair!"
My eyes opened wide at the sound of a middle-aged man's sharp-edged voice.
"Are you out of your mind?"
I turned my head towards the sound. However, his figure was faint due to the bright light.
"Am I alive?"
"You won't die from losing consciousness!"
"Ah... I'm alive!"
The tears that poured out like a waterfall flowed down my cheeks and gathered at the tip of my chin.
"What about the children?"
"He's on his way, so hurry and get ready!"
"Thank you. I'm— really, thank you."
I turned my head to the man who had told me that my pupils were safe and that I was going to survive. I couldn't see the man properly through the welling tears, but I thanked the voice who had delivered the news.
God, Buddha, Allah. To all the Gods in the world, thank you!
Before I lost consciousness, there was an explosion.

While I was teaching fireworks experiments to second-year middle school students, the school chairman's son played with a torch, so I kicked him out of the laboratory.
Then, the cockroach-like child—who looked just like his father—caused an accident rather than reflecting on his behavior.
It started with sodium inside a tumbler. Sodium explodes when it comes into contact with water.
I evacuated the children as fast as I could, and after wrestling with the child, I was able to take the tumbler away from him.
However, I was running out of time. After seeing the child leave successfully, I covered the tumbler with my body, and thus fulfilled my responsibilities as a part-time teacher.
At the sound of the explosion, my whole body jolted, and I lost consciousness.
But I saved the children, and I survived, too.
It was a relief.
Finally, my eyesight returned, and I began to see the world around me.
'Uh? Isn't that Ruby and Sapphire? Oh my God, is that a diamond? Besides, the moulding is made of gold.'
The ceiling was lavishly embroidered with various jewels. The jewels shone brightly as they embraced the sunlight. It seemed like I was in God's house.
'What kind of hospital is this?'
I was lying at an angle with my head resting on the back of a chair. I touched my chest and the stomach that had held the tumbler. I felt something hard.
'Am I wounded? Did they dress it with a bandage?'
I pressed carefully to see if it hurt, but it didn't.
'How many painkillers did they give me?'
I lowered my eyes to check the IV in my arm. But there was none. Just a slender, long white hand touching the front of a pure white dress embroidered with gold thread under fluttering lace sleeves.
'Oh my God. What's with this hospital gown?'
Startled, I pulled up my sleeves and looked at the clothes. The sideline of the sleeve that came down from the shoulder was decorated with transparent jewels that looked like diamonds following down the white line.
'Is this a dream?'
I pinched the inside of my wrist.
"Ah!"
It hurt!
'What's going on here?'
As I tried to sit up and figure out the situation, a foreign woman wearing a black and white dress like a maid's costume, rushed towards me.
"Stay still."

I understood the foreign language they spoke incredibly well.
'Who are these people?'
Surprised, I pushed them away as they grabbed my shoulders and arms. But they were stronger than me; they didn't even budge. Rather, they pushed me even harder into the chair.
I kicked the maid's shin in front of me with all my might as she pressed against my shoulder.
"Ahhhh!"
She screamed and fell down. With the fighting skills I had learned over the past three years, I pushed aside the hands of other maids and stood up.

Then, knights in golden armor lifted their swords and spears to block my way. I saw my reflection on the flashing blades.
I was wearing a bright white dress. As I moved, I was followed by a tight-waisted dress with a skirt spread wider than a summer resort parasol.
'Is that me?'
"Sinclair! What are you doing?"
It was the doctor's voice—the one that had told me the children were safe a while ago. I turned around quickly.
But he wasn't a doctor either. A good-looking middle-aged western man, like George Clooney, was standing before me. At that moment, my heart was beating fast, and I felt like I was suffocating.
[ "Die."
Someone was strangling me. I couldn't breathe.
"Die, Sinclair!"
"Dad, please save me!"
Little Sinclair's hand, dry like a wooden chopstick and as fragile as if it would snap, was anxiously holding on to the arm that was strangling her. ]
"Dad?"