Kill the Author, Then to Hell - Chapter 4.1

However, the results were a bit disappointing.

‘What is this supposed to be, a school report card?’

There wasn’t a single skill related to magic, only mundane and trivial everyday skills.

But as a protagonist, one must start from zero, right?

‘Maybe, unexpectedly, I’ll awaken some abilities at the magic academy? Am I destined to become a great mage?’

I quickly stifled the wild fantasies threatening to escape my lips.

I couldn’t risk looking like a mad person laughing amidst tears at my mother’s funeral.

Moreover, the options I had wrangled were definitely included.

And of course, there was the blessing [Coincidence], which everyone seems to have these days.

Just reading the description of the blessing [Character Buffet] was reassuring enough, making me feel less anxious about the lack of skills.

If you’re lucky and well-loved, isn’t that everything?

At the bottom of the status window, there were still some inactive options.

The special equipment [Chekhov’s Gun] and [Buff] still appeared in faint grey text. The conditions for their activation were not mentioned, but they weren’t immediately necessary anyway. I’d figure it out as I adapted to this new <Story>.

While I was checking the status window, the priest-led funeral was almost over.

“Sister, are you okay?”

The man to my immediate left whispered to me.

There was no need to ponder who this young man was. The necessary memories quickly seeped into my mind.

Peter Dayton.

My younger brother by two years.

We grew up playing together since his snotty-nosed days, but he had become notably reticent since enrolling in the academy.

‘This kid. He didn’t send even a single letter, but he’s still concerned about me.’

I bowed my head, trying to process the flood of memories.

Mistaking my emotional turmoil for grief, the man on my right silently patted my back.

This was my older brother, Johan Dayton.

Older by five years, he was the promising eldest son destined to inherit the Dayton Marquisate’s legacy and lands. Always kind to me, we rarely had deep conversations, so there was always a sense of distance.

‘Wow, talk about a character buffet.’

I glanced back and forth at their faces, admiring them.

They had the finely chiseled features of Western models I’d seen online.

‘And that must be my father over there.’

I had already taken note of the middle-aged man standing near the priest.

Simon Dayton, the Marquis, bore the deep furrows on his forehead of a man who had long suffered with a sick wife.

“On the day the almighty Marsh descends, we shall meet again. Let us now release the departed to peaceful slumber,” the priest concluded.

As dirt was sprinkled over the coffin, the funeral came to an end.

“Now, then, what? Your… Your Excellency?”

And as if he had been waiting just for it to end, my father, Marquis Dayton, left the place like a gust of wind without exchanging a single word with the relatives gathered there.

The priest left behind wore a look of bafflement.

‘Wait, is this some kind of family drama?’

Considering the combination of a distant younger brother, a reserved elder brother, and a father who obviously lacked social skills…

My mind started racing.

<The Villainous Father Dotes on Only Me>

<The Tyrant’s Youngest Sister, That’s Me?>

<I’d Rather Live Quietly as the Villain’s Sister>

I reviewed recent trends in romance fantasy novels in my head. Stories where the female protagonist is loved by cold, twisted male family members were all too familiar.

I never liked that genre. Thinking of my real father and brother, both the scum of the earth, I’d grind my teeth even in my sleep.

Love or whatever, I thought I’d be happy if I could just sever those ties.

‘But still, this kind of family isn’t too bad.’

For one, they were self-sufficient, and not bad on the eyes either.

Compared to my previous life, this was a significant upgrade.

Besides, family dramas are usually only tough in the beginning. Once you start to win over the hearts of your father, brother, or younger brother, things typically proceed smoothly.

‘Let’s see if I can get some affection from the family.’

Little did I know, at that moment, I would come to deeply regret such carefree thoughts.

‘This house is insane.’

This was no family drama. Such a family drama couldn’t possibly exist.

‘I’m the protagonist! A happy ending is possible, right?’

These were my thoughts later as I faced my first death, stabbed by an opaque dagger conjured in mid-air by the magic of Simon Dayton, the Marquis himself.