Kill the Author, Then to Hell - Chapter 7.1
“I can’t go to the Academy? Why?”
“Are you really asking? How can a woman go to the Academy?”
I should have realized from the start.
Peter, younger than me, was admitted to the Academy, so why was I confined to the house? Why had I never been allowed in the research lab where the male members of the family spent their time?
The world of this story I chose…
It was a world where women couldn’t become mages.
“Sister, I know you’re shocked by Mother’s passing, but isn’t this a bit much? Don’t you know that in the 300-year history of the Academy, not a single woman has even set foot inside its gates?”
Peter wore an expression that was 80% disbelief and 20% concern.
Apparently, this fact was common knowledge here.
If I kept showing such ignorance of common sense, they might suspect me of being a spy… or realize I wasn’t the real Edith.
Feeling the crisis, I tried to recall Edith’s memories.
‘But why is this part missing?’
Until now, I hadn’t aroused any suspicion because I had the necessary knowledge and memories resurface naturally when needed.
Just like fully immersing into the protagonist of a novel, it was easy to grasp what Edith would say or how she would behave.
But only this part, intertwined with magic, seemed cleanly excised from my memory.
So, I had no choice but to blurt out what came to mind as Lee Jinseo, a 21st-century person.
“That, isn’t that discrimination? Why can’t women be admitted?”
Until then, I thought this might be a typical struggle given to the protagonist.
The protagonist defies extremely slim odds to achieve what was originally impossible.
The first female mage in the Academy! Overcoming prejudice with pure skill – what a grand story that would be.
But Peter’s words shattered my fantasy like breaking a plank in martial arts.
“The Academy was founded 300 years ago, but the history of magic goes back two thousand years. And in those two thousand years, not a single female mage has ever existed. Do I really need to explain why?”
Peter continued, his tone marked with irritation.
Humanity gained the ability to use magic two thousand years ago.
Adam Claremont offered a sacrifice to please the Sun God Marsh, who, in return, granted magical abilities.
Thus, Adam Claremont became the first mage and the founder of the Claremont Empire.
As Adam aged and his death approached, he sought God again.
‘I am worried that upon my death, the world will fall back into chaos.’
The God then promised Adam,
‘Do not worry. I will bestow the same blessing from your son to his son. Your descendants will multiply and cover all lands touched by the sun.’
Over two thousand years, most people ended up having some Claremont blood in them.
However, as the God’s promise was inherited only through sons, it meant no magical abilities for women.
Unable to let go of my curiosity, I had to ask.
“Haha, it’s been a long time, so maybe things have changed now? Like, maybe God changed his mind or something…”
“Sister!”
I hadn’t even finished speaking.
Peter’s face hardened with anger as he firmly grasped my shoulders, immobilizing me.
“Do you want to be sent to the religious tribunal? I might not care, but if you say such blasphemous things anywhere else, you’ll be in big trouble!”
I was overpowered by his intensity and had to promise never to speak of such things again.
“Please, Sister, just stay quiet. Act like a lady! Otherwise, you might end up like…”
Peter stopped himself, as if realizing he had said too much, but my mind had already started racing.
“End up like Mother? Do you mean…”
Maybe.
Peter knew how Mother had died.
If his bloodshot eyes coming up from the basement earlier meant anything, it was not just simple grief…
“I have to go. It’s late.”
But Peter didn’t explain anything further and turned away brusquely.
It turned out that near the mansion’s main gate, where we had been talking, there was a metal cylindrical warp booth, resembling a public telephone booth.
Peter hurried into the warp booth, escaping from me.
“I have to go. I should write to Brother about your condition.”
He didn’t forget to add a warning or perhaps a concern before closing the door.
The booth seemed soundproof, not letting any noise escape, but my [Perkily Perked] buff was still effective.
“…The father’s legacy shall, too, be realized by his son.”
Peter muttered a cryptic incantation and then finished.
As soon as he said those words, Peter disappeared from my sight.
“…”
After making sure I was alone, I cautiously opened the door and entered the booth.
It enveloped me in silence, like a perfectly soundproofed recording studio.
After coughing a few times,
“Please, send me to the Academy. What father accomplishes shall also be achieved by the son.”
It was a hopeful attempt.
But of course, no matter how much I repeated it, nothing happened to me.
I quietly stepped out of the booth and trudged back to the mansion.
I had never felt so utterly insignificant.
***
“No, how can this be?”
That night, I sat up in bed for the 300th time, muttering to myself.
It made no sense.
Witches should exist, right? Riding broomsticks! With black cats! Brewing potions in cauldrons! How can there be no witches?
Fine, let’s say, begrudgingly, that there might be a story where only women can’t use magic.
It’s annoying, but I can respect the bizarre taste of such an author.
But hadn’t I firmly stated,
<Oh, and I absolutely must be the protagonist.>
In a world with magic, how does it make sense for the protagonist to be unable to use magic? Is the author insane? How are they planning to develop this story?
Here I am, barely surviving a day, yet murdered by a killer called ‘Dad’. And now, they expect me to survive with just some trivial ability like [Perkily Perked]?
