Kill the Author, Then to Hell - Chapter 1.1

T/N: Just a short note before the start of this novel.

The more unambiguous title would be: (I) Will Kill The Author First Before Going To Hell. That is to say, killing the author is a prerogative—a must—for the protagonist before she will *willingly* go to hell on her own two feet. I decided on the current title to keep things short and snappy, just like the original.

Additionally, although we have a female protagonist here, the novel was categorized as ‘Fantasy’ (more specifically ‘Fusion Fantasy’) rather than the usual ‘Romance Fantasy’. I’m assuming this is somewhat like ‘Seinen’ vs ‘Josei’. I ask that you set your expectations from the start that there will be little to no romance in this novel. (I didn’t read ahead though, so I’m not sure if there’s zero romance.)

Then, without further ado…

Enjoy!

The Now-Arriving Train

I look out beyond the balcony. The quaint brick houses on the green hills, the people bustling about, the towering bell tower. It’s a simply beautiful landscape.

But that’s not what interests me.

What I’m looking at is the railway right below the balcony. A place where a heavy train could come barreling in at any moment.

Let’s say there’s a person standing down there.

Choo— Choo— Choo—

Even if the horn blares, they don’t move.

Of course, the train won’t stop. The heavy hunk of metal will just thunder on, clattering along the tracks.

No matter how squarely the person stares down the train and confronts it, it’s futile.

In a few seconds, they will be erased without a trace, as if they never existed in this world.

And the train will continue on its way.

But if, just if…

I clench and unclench my trembling hands to calm my nerves.

‘Not yet.’

The train only comes once a day.

The bell that marks three o’clock will be audible from this balcony, and the train can be seen. The tea party started at two, so there’s still some time left.

“Lady Edith…? A-Are you feeling unwell? If you tell me, I’ll, I’ll take care of it right away….”

I sigh deeply and shift my gaze to the left.

The hostess of this tea party, Lady Lola Chester, is pale as a ghost. She sets down her teacup with trembling hands, looking like she’s this close to shattering it.

‘Haa. Why on earth did she invite me if she’s going to be like this?’

Despite being from the distinguished House Chester, one of the empire’s three great households, Lola always seems intimidated in my presence.

“No, I’m fine.”

I reply nonchalantly.

Originally, before I fell into this world, I remember being quite amiable.

But this act can only last so long.

“Really? Lady Edith, you haven’t even touched your tea. Could it be that Lady Lola made a mistake in choosing the tea leaves?”

Chiming in from the right is Delia Aimesworth.

A typical villainess of romance fantasy novels. Behind her seemingly concerned frown, her true intentions are clear.

‘Ah, damn it, I’ll seriously kill this damn…’

Of course, last time, it was because of her that I died.

I pick up the teacup and swirl it around. The red tea, reflecting beautiful floral patterns, indeed smells wonderful.

But I know for certain that it’s laced with a colorless, odorless poison that no magic tool could detect.

Probably a secret method exclusive to the Aimesworth family, masters of magical pharmacology.

‘Could she have coated the cup beforehand?’

In my previous life, I was caught unawares, but this time, I’ve been vigilant. I haven’t noticed anything suspicious.

I bring the cup to my lips as if to drink, all the while watching Delia’s expression.

There it is, that annoying smirk of Delia’s, now tinged with a slight hint of anticipation.

“Ah…! I guess it won’t do.”

As I set the cup down, Delia bites her lip. She must be seething inside.

But my insides churned first, having vomited black liquid for hours. It was so painful. I thought I was dying.

Ah, but I did.

I actually died.

“Why… why, what’s wrong? Is there any problem?!”

Before the faint-hearted Lola could have a fit, I add on,

“The aroma is too good… I’m on a diet these days.”

“A-Ah! Surely because of the upcoming wedding ceremony…!”

“Yes, I’m nervous because I’m about to be wed to His. Impe~rial. Highness. The. Crown. Prince.”

I emphasize each word while savoring the contorting expression on Delia’s face.

‘Mmm, satisfying. I feel full without even eating.’

It’s no exaggeration to say that the whole Claremont Empire knows Delia has her eyes on my fiancé, Crown Prince Marcel. If I were killed, she’d be the prime suspect, but perhaps she’s planning to pin it on Lola or something.

But Delia wouldn’t want to trade places with me if she knew my situation.

I’m here, repeatedly dying before even having my wedding with the Crown Prince, whom I’ve met a grand total of one single time.