Kill the Author, Then to Hell - Chapter 10.1

While the priest recited the eulogy, now memorized by heart,

“Elizabeth Dayton was a dutiful wife in her lifetime…”

I couldn’t escape my astonishment.

‘Wow, seriously, what the hell…’

A chill crawled up my skin, like leeches around the area Johan had kissed on my forehead.

But rubbing my forehead only brought back a splitting headache, as if my skull was cracking open.

Yet, what was truly horrifying was,

“Sister, are you okay?”

<Ha, haha, hahaha! Sister, are you crazy? Someone like you, going to the academy?>

The hysterical laughter still echoed in my ears, yet here was Peter’s voice, whispering low as if he genuinely respected me, and the touch of that murderer Johan, pretending to be a caring older brother, gently rubbing my back.

Of course, on the other side stood Marquis Simon Dayton, my father, ready to kill his wife and daughter if they became obstacles in his path.

I was still the daughter of this house.

‘I won’t let these vile men off.’

Anger surged at the unexpectedly hellish difficulty level. How dare they throw me into this insane household where surviving itself felt like a final round mission.

In my first attempt, I couldn’t last a single night.

In my second, I barely survived four days.

How many deaths would it take before I could even enter the main story?

‘Hah.’

But I had to acknowledge that my last life was not without its harvests.

One thing became clear.

In this house, I could trust no one.

Thinking this was a ‘family drama’ was ludicrous.

No matter how sweetly they treated me on the surface, they were essentially time bombs ready to explode at any moment.

‘From now on, it’s constant vigilance.’

Another achievement was learning precisely how to use the special equipment [Chekhov’s Gun].

‘A character that forms the foundation of the protagonist’s formation cannot be removed, huh…’

Meaning, there was no direct way to eliminate the family members who posed the greatest threat. Simon, Johan, and Peter included.

If they didn’t exist, Edith’s existence would also be nullified. Logically, I understood, but,

‘Then, what the hell am I supposed to use it for?’

I wanted to give the author a handful of thumbtacks in their slippers. This was an irritating setup if ever there was one.

Well, for now, it seemed there wouldn’t be much difference in eliminating anyone outside the family in this story, so using [Chekhov’s Gun] was on hold.

But the most important gain was,

Boom—

The rainbow-colored firework that bloomed in Johan’s room.

In the end, that firework, which just wouldn’t disappear, led to my death at Johan’s hands.

But still, I decided to forgive the author for this alone, canceling the thumbtack plan.

‘It was all to make me an OP character.’

Just the thought brought a content smile to my face.

Why did they insert the setting that women couldn’t use magic?

Having entered the dreamed-of magical world, to be humiliated for not being able to use even simple magic that my much younger brother could! How humiliating it was in front of the warp booth.

‘Dear author, you almost made me feel resentful.’

I had failed to fully grasp the writer’s profound intentions.

Imagine, everyone expects someone to wield magic effortlessly, and then they do just that.

Where’s the emotion or twist in that?

In a place where no female mage had existed throughout its two-thousand-year history, a girl uniquely capable of wielding magic was discovered, unlike any other!

And she’s so good at it that it disrupts the balance!

She even outperforms the men!

Naturally, this is precisely what whets one’s appetite.

The current hellish difficulty… Is it like an appetizer?

Typically, appetizers are slightly bitter to stimulate the appetite.

‘The problem is…’

In such cases, there’s usually a need for something to spur the protagonist’s growth.

Although I confirmed my latent magical abilities with the magic gauge in my previous life, I knew absolutely nothing about how to actually use magic.

So, it seems like it’s time for a mentor, a teacher, or a magic book that rapidly levels up my magical abilities just by reading it.

Under normal circumstances, my father, who is renowned as a mage, my brother, the future head of a magical family, or my younger brother, who is achieving excellent grades at the academy, would be easy solutions.

‘But our dear author seems to have a unique taste….’

So, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be the route.

‘Ah, the status window.’

If there’s a tool given to me, it must be the status window. The path to becoming a true mage might be hidden somewhere here.

A few changes caught my eye.

The plus sign next to the level was intriguing. Initially, reflecting my age at 17, the level had increased by two steps to 19.

‘Does it increase by one with each death?’

It was unclear what benefits a higher level offered.

‘Well, higher is better than lower, I guess. Next, the skills…’

The skill list showed [Etiquette] had increased by one level, with no other differences.

But imagining this list, currently full of mundane skills like cooking and embroidery, soon being filled with skills like potion-making, transformation spells, and alchemy excited me.

‘Just hang in there, be patient.’

Lastly, I opened the [Buff] section, which I had been saving.