Doomed to Die by Guillotine...!

I am a deep-sea exploration agent. The kind who dives into the abyss to salvage forgotten masterpieces. Movies, anime, novels, dramas—even adult films. The sort of content the average person has never heard of, yet offers more than enough reason to experience.

“What should I watch today?”

With five distinct categories, I had set a fixed genre for each weekday, excluding weekends. A glance at the calendar on my desk confirmed it was Friday. Novel day.

I dove into bed, pulled up the platform, and began scrolling. ‘Promos don’t interest me, so kindly disappear.’ I kept going until I hit the very bottom. Amid the endless descent, one title snagged my attention.

The Hero’s Empire Reconstruction Records?

Tsk… That unmistakable briny scent of the deep. A story with views so abysmal it probably couldn’t even cover the author’s rent. My instincts were screaming.

Click it. Now.

“Let’s give it a shot.”

I boldly tapped the prologue. Roughly three minutes later, I regretted it with every fiber of my being.

“Author, at least run it through a spellchecker!”

Typos that made my eyes twitch. The world-building was so unfriendly it felt like a deliberate challenge. “The premise isn’t bad, but…”

The problem was the complete lack of writing skill to support it. I clicked the novel listed right beside it without much hope. The title alone screamed mass-produced trash.

“Whoa?! This flavor!”

It was nothing like I expected. A dopamine explosion of a plot, zero frustrating moments, pure refreshing payoff, and a Munchkin protagonist from page one. Even with familiar tropes, the execution surpassed imagination.

“This is exactly why I can never quit deep-sea diving!”

Farewell, The Hero’s Empire Reconstruction Records. Welcome, The World’s Strongest with a Unique-Grade Skill.

I devoured every available chapter on the spot.

“Stories like this are always welcome!”

When I opened my eyes, I was somewhere completely unfamiliar. A ridiculously spacious room dominated by a ridiculously spacious bed. An elegant piece decorated with vivid crimson lace.

And I was lying right in the middle of it.

“Where is this place?”

‘……?’

“What the hell is this…?!”

My hand flew to my mouth at the unfamiliar voice. Young, yet icy cold. Definitely not mine. Yet it had come from my own throat.

I sat up and planted my feet on the floor.

“Why is even the bed built so absurdly high?”

Wait. It wasn’t just the bed. Every piece of furniture towered far above my reach. I hurried to the vanity, climbed onto the chair, and finally saw my reflection.

‘What the—?!’

“Why has this lady become a girl?!”

Black hair, crimson eyes. Skin so pale and soft it looked powdered with flour. And above all… I had become a child. Roughly nine or ten years old, I guessed.

While I was still processing my new childish features, a knock sounded. A young man’s voice came from beyond the door.

“Iris, are you inside?”

I froze. Iris. The name was both foreign and strangely familiar.

It rings a bell… Ah!

The novel that had made my eyes bleed with regret—The Hero’s Empire Reconstruction Records. The tyrant’s final words in the prologue before he died flashed through my mind.

I’m certain he called out for Iris as he died.

“…Hold on.”

Wasn’t this completely screwed?

The existence the tyrant had pathetically searched for before his death? Not his wife, surely. So did that mean I had become his daughter?

In the prologue of The Hero’s Empire Reconstruction Records, the tyrant meets his end at the guillotine. The fate awaiting anyone carrying his blood was painfully obvious.

“Am I really going to die by guillotine with him…?”

That was the one outcome I could not accept.

Waking up inside a novel was bad enough. Being doomed to die right after possessing a body was unacceptable.

I still have so much life ahead of me…!

Forgetting I was still balanced on the vanity chair, I began jumping in panic. In the critical instant when my foot slipped and I started to fall—

“Are you all right, Iris?”

The man who had been calling my name caught me in both arms before I could hit the floor. A man in his thirties with the same black hair and red eyes as my new body.

“Y-yes… I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

The fact that Tyrant’s Dignity hadn’t activated meant this was undoubtedly the tyrant Calian Barshain himself.

“Haha, you silly child. You may call me Father comfortably.”

The man currently hugging me tightly was the infamous tyrant… yet he looked exactly like a doting dad.

“Iris, I came because I thought it would be good for you to join the state council meeting. Would you like to attend with Father?”

There was no need for formalities with a daughter-obsessed father.

“Yes! I’d love to attend the meeting!”

I was originally a man in his twenties with zero connection to nobility.

“Today Father will show you his charisma properly.”

Honestly, I was curious. What exactly had he done to earn the title of tyrant?

It didn’t take long to find out.

The state council chamber.

I arrived comfortably, carried in Calian’s arms like a princess.

“My daughter Iris will be attending today’s meeting as well. Anyone with objections, raise your hand. I shall personally sever it at the wrist.”

The brutal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠threat silenced every minister.

I stared at him, completely stunned.

He’s a total lunatic?!

I never imagined he was this insane. I was learning firsthand why the title of tyrant existed.

With the ministers remaining silent, Calian smiled.

“Silence is consent. Iris, come sit on Father’s lap.”

And so the reign of terror officially began.

The first to break the heavy silence was a white-haired elderly minister.

“T-this agenda concerns the tax rate imposed on the citizens.”

“We’ve been collecting rather lightly lately. Raise the rate.”

“H-however… raising it further now will only increase the farmers’ discontent…”

BANG!

Calian slammed his fist on the table.

“If you do not truly wish to die, shut your mouth and raise the tax rate.”

…This needed to be stopped immediately. At this rate, both Calian and I were headed straight for the guillotine.

I tugged on his sleeve.

“Father, what is the current tax rate?”

“Finance Minister, what is the present rate?”

“We are currently collecting at fifty-five percent…”

Insane. It’s a miracle the serfs haven’t already revolted. They were probably too terrified by his reign of fear to utter a single complaint. Eventually they would explode, and the two of us would share a decapitated bad ending.

“Father… the farmers seem so pitiful. If I were them, just living would feel like torment.”

The ministers nodded vigorously at my words. They couldn’t voice such opinions themselves without facing execution, but they saw a chance to use the tyrant’s only child to sway him.

“Then what rate do you believe would allow the farmers to live comfortably?”

I glanced sideways. The ministers discreetly held up three fingers. They wanted a fifty-percent reduction.

Going from brutal exploitation to taking only half would naturally move the people. But.

It would only raise their quality of life a tiny bit.

Even in the notoriously vicious medieval era, tax rates hovered around ten percent. Thirty percent was still crushing!

“Fifteen percent seems appropriate.”

“Daughter, even so, fifteen percent is…”

“Is that not okay?”

I looked up at Calian with the cutest expression I could manage.

“Kuh… ugh…!”

The effect was devastating. Calian pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“F-fine… However, if it is deemed harmful to the national treasury, the rate will be raised again.”

Lowering the tax rate had created a ten-percent deviation from the original story. The final sentence felt particularly ominous.

And a status window? If I’d known this would happen, I would have read the free chapters at least…!

It was too late for regrets. That novel didn’t exist in this world.

“N-next agenda is the budget proposal for Lady Iris’s personal escort unit…”

“Finally, an agenda I’ve been waiting for!”

I shot Calian a sharp glare. Sensing it, he gently stroked my hair.

“Daughter, this is a necessary expense. I would love to guard you myself all day, but that simply isn’t feasible.”

“I know. Still, spending the budget on me would be less beneficial to the empire than using it elsewhere.”

The ministers trembled, hesitating for a moment before their eyes filled with open admiration.

They look like they’re about to start worshipping me.

“T-then… how about one Sword Master as your personal guard? If you refuse even that, Father will be very sad…”

Even that gave me pause. Sword Masters—those who could wield aura—were the pinnacle of the continent’s swordsmen. Their numbers were extremely limited.

Though the empire is an exception.

Fortunately, the Barshain Empire overflowed with wealth, talent, and resources. As the title suggested, the story centered on a hero who succeeded in a coup and rebuilt a ruined empire.

And the author turned that empire into a world-breaking force.

Having one Sword Master as a guard was perfectly feasible. The reason the empire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still fell to the hero was simple: the hero’s party was simply stronger.

In the early chapters, the hero used a few skills and the imperial guard was wiped out. That scene genuinely broke my mentality. If the protagonist’s goal had been world conquest from the start, maybe I could have accepted it. The hero was simply on another level.

“…All right. But make sure the remaining budget is used elsewhere.”

“Understood!”

I held out my pinky finger to Calian.

“Promise.”

He smiled warmly and hooked his own pinky with mine.

“I promise.”

In the middle of that heartwarming scene, the elderly minister cleared his throat.

“Ahem, the next agenda is…”

“Are you daring to interrupt my happy family moment? Do you truly wish to die that badly?!”

Would it kill you to be kind to other people too?