If You Don't Want to Die, Crawl
There are all sorts of ways people die. Car accidents, terminal illnesses, natural causes, whatever... I kicked the bucket from pent-up rage. More precisely, I lost it from all that frustration, tripped, bashed my head on the bed frame, and bled out. Out of everyone in the world, how many croak like that? Was I the first?
The reason I was pondering this was simple. The Marchioness's Daughter Doesn't Tell the Truth, a romance fantasy novel. After dying, I got possessed into the very novel that pissed me off enough to kill me while reading it. Well, possession itself wasn't so bad. I wasn't living some epic life before I died anyway, so I figured I'd just eat well and live well in this fantasy world. Piece of cake.
Except for one thing. I just needed to fix the most infuriating part of the original story. The Crown Prince of the Euclid Empire. If I could just wipe that little shit off the map. He was the root of all evil in the novel.
First, he killed the Northern Young Lord—son of the world's strongest man—pretending it was an accident. The reason? The guy caught a bigger monster than him at some hunting contest. Then, when the Northern Duke demanded an investigation from the imperial family, the prince just ignored it. What happened next? The pissed-off Northern Duke rebelled, turning the empire into a wasteland.
Surprisingly, there was one person who could have stopped the disaster. The only witness to the prince's murder, who could have confessed to the emperor and calmed the duke down.
"The prince's fiancée and the novel's heroine, Marchioness's daughter Serena."
If the Crown Prince was a total asshole, what was she? Frustrating as hell? A complete idiot? She turned a blind eye to all his evil deeds because of "love." She wasn't truly evil, just soft-hearted and bad at judging situations, so she kept quiet... I died midway through, so I don't know for sure, but to me, both were problems.
"Enough, enough! Thinking about it is gonna give me rage-stroke and kill me again."
End of flashback. Time to move. For my glittering new life in this fantasy world. To ship the pitiful, dumb Serena off to some remote island and kill that asshole prince.
But there was one problem.
"...Where the hell am I?"
I was definitely possessed, but I had no clue where this was or who I was. Even looking in the room's mirror, I couldn't place the face staring back.
"Tch... Was there a character like this in the novel? Don't tell me I'm an extra?"
Beastly black hair full of wild assertiveness. Muscles bulging everywhere despite not being fully grown. And damn handsome.
"With a face like that, life must've been a breeze."
It was my body now, though.
Knock knock.
The door rapped, and I answered naturally. "Who is it?"
"Young Lord, you said to fetch you when the hunting festival started."
"..."
Young Lord? Hunting festival? Am I the Northern Young Lord who's supposed to die today? The novel just said he died; I had no idea he looked like this.
"Hah, would you look at that... Got it. I'll be out soon."
"Yes, sir. But... may I ask why you're suddenly speaking formally to me?"
"...I'll be out soon."
"Yes, sir."
I needed time to adjust to this Northern Young Lord's body.
"Your Highness, are you prepared?"
"Yeah, just like you said, Serena... But is this really the right thing to do?"
"We only have two paths: the lesser evil or the worst."
Serena coldly soothed the anxious Crown Prince as he fiddled with his bow.
"If Your Highness fails to stop the Northern Young Lord today..."
"I know."
In the Marchioness's Daughter novel, every major or supporting character had a unique ability. For example, the Crown Prince had the Grace of Accuracy. He could hit any projectile target, no matter the distance. If he wasn't born a prince, he'd have been a legendary hunter.
Naturally, the heroine Serena had one too.
To prevent the future I saw, I must kill the Northern Young Lord.
Hers was Future Precognition. She could glimpse distant futures.
And the first future she awakened to was...
The Northern Young Lord using time-stop to destroy the empire... no, the world.
The Northern Young Lord's ability was Time Stop. The moment he got it, he slaughtered every man in the empire and impregnated every woman. But that was just a game to him—he spread his reach to the Horzheim Kingdom, the Holy Nation, and the northern nomads. No one escaped his clutches.
Serena herself was among them. No matter how many times she peered into the future, shaking hands and all, the outcome never changed.
"Urp!"
"Serena, you okay!?"
"Y-yes..."
Every time she recalled her future self fawning over the Young Lord's massive something-or-other, nausea surged. It was a defense mechanism to forget how blissful she looked.
Serena's cheeks flushed faintly. She reviewed the plan once more.
"Today is our last chance. Next time we meet the Young Lord, he'll have awakened his ability."
"Yeah. So when Antus chases the drake, pretend it's a mistake and shoot him off the cliff."
"Yes. He loves hunting. In the future I saw, he chased a drake too."
Killing the Northern Young Lord would change the future. She didn't know exactly how, but she could predict the possibilities.
First, the Northern Duke's rebellion.
Second, nomads invading the weakened North.
Third, nothing happens.
Any was better than letting the Young Lord live. His descendants would eventually doom humanity. That was the absolute worst.
Gulp.
Swallowing nervously, the two gazed at the Northern Young Lord stretching in the distance.
Seventeen like the prince, but his sturdy build defied belief. Long limbs stretching out, muscles cracking audibly. Noble ladies attending the festival—for fiancés or crushes—now fixated on him, forgetting their purpose.
"Eek...!"
Serena was no different. If anything, having seen her future self made it worse. To hide her rising heat, she turned her back to the prince and awaited the start.
"The hunting festival begins now."
A noble's announcement kicked it off. Everyone mounted and charged.
"I'm counting on you."
"Yeah. I'll handle it no matter—"
Neighhhh!!!
Just before takeoff, as Serena and the prince exchanged words, a massive black steed wedged between them. Its rider: Northern Young Lord Antus.
"Oh, long time no see. Antus."
"I see the Empire's sun. But... your skin's even paler now? I'm jealous."
"..."
The compliment from the tanned, bulkier man felt like an insult to the prince. You're even more effeminate now. Aren't you ashamed?
"You too..."
"Oops, dawdling and the prey'll escape. I'll head out first. Enjoy the festival, Lady Serena."
"..."
Antus bowed and sped off. The prince, who'd been doubting the need to kill him, hesitated no more. Antus's disregard, Serena's flushed cheeks—everything grated.
Squeeze.
Gripping the reins hard, the prince pursued with a new expression.
Main love interest, huh? Definitely handsome.
The prince was as good-looking as—or better than—this body's original owner. Porcelain skin, golden hair suiting a puppy-like face.
It was troubling. I'd planned to swiftly off the prince and enjoy fantasy life, but meeting him changed that.
Is this guy really gonna kill me? Doesn't feel like the asshole from the novel.
My killing intent faded, replaced by practical concerns. If I kill the prince, what about the next emperor and the empire's future? Short-term: how do I do it, alibi, and handle the emperor's wrath from all sides?
If he doesn't touch me first, no need to strike. Stay alert for now.
Hoping for no drama, I enjoyed the hunt. This new body was incredible—physical abilities dozens of times better, riding and shooting came naturally.
Oh! A drake!
After galloping awhile, I spotted a huge lizard. The novel's drake. Always wanted to ride one.
Any way to catch it without killing?
As I nocked an arrow and chased, hoofbeats approached from behind. Competitor? I glanced back—
Whoosh!
A sharp arrow greeted me. Beyond it, gleaming gold hair. Obvious who.
...Yeah, figures. Fucking asshole.
In the original, every major character had an ability. Most weren't revealed by my read-through, but one was: the Northern Duke is a Swordmaster. Not earned through effort—an innate power. Before the hunt, stretching, I'd checked mine.
Snap.
Fingers flicked, time stopped. Total cheat ability.
Why the hell did the idiot Northern Young Lord die to the prince with this?
Grabbing the arrow mid-thought, I dismounted, walked over, positioned it to graze the prince's cheek, and returned.
Snap.
Whoosh!
Blood sprayed from the prince's cheek as the arrow flew. He flinched, tumbling from his horse.
I rode up, inquiring politely. "Your Highness, are you alright?"
"Urgh... Antus, you bastard...!"
"Why the anger? You missed the drake near me by accident, and I accidentally shot toward you."
"..."
The prince just glared, speechless. Mud-caked but eyes alive—it was kinda funny. I dismounted, approached, pretended to help him up, and whispered in his ear.
"Your Highness, if you don't want to die, crawl on your own. I don't know if I'll miss next time either."
Meaning: Shooting toward you wasn't the mistake—missing you was.
The prince got it instantly, face beet-red. Not that he could do shit about it.