Your Life is Over
It was 3 a.m.
My thumb was pressing hard on the smartphone screen.
I had to report for work at nine, but I couldn't even get five hours of sleep. I knew it, yet my fingers refused to stop.
The latest chapter of the romance fantasy web novel I was hooked on had dropped at midnight, and I hadn't stopped re-reading it for three hours straight.
"It was fun, though..."
The plot after the death of Theodore von Eberhardt, the Empire's third-ranked noble and the Northern Grand Duke, was the problem.
The man who had been called the Empire's strongest swordsman died of unknown causes, and his wife Violetta desperately held up the collapsing duchy with her three children.
That part was fine.
The way Violetta endured the nobles' mockery and smiled in front of the children scratched my heart properly.
The plot started to go weird from the recent chapters.
The scene of the Marquisate's army pushing into the Grand Duchy estate.
The fifteen-year-old second son Felix picked up a sword in his brother's place but couldn't last even three exchanges.
The ten-year-old youngest daughter Stella was lying on her brother's corpse, crying. It was written with three chapters of investment, the young child clinging to her blood-soaked older brother.
"...Damn it, really."
And the Grand Duchess Violetta, described hundreds of times as the Empire's greatest beauty, was being used like this.
The scene of the duchy being destroyed and turning into the nobles' playthings followed with detailed descriptions.
The author's skill was actually a poison.
Then what about the eldest son? What did the eighteen-year-old eldest son do?
I scrolled up to find the description of the eldest son Killian von Eberhardt.
- The eldest son Killian was assassinated before he could come of age.
One line.
It was just one line.
The eldest son of the duchy that had protected the north for hundreds of years was given a one-line exit.
No buildup, just died, end.
They wrote three chapters for the Grand Duchess's downfall but only one line for the son. What the hell, author?
No matter how much the protagonist was a princess in a romance fantasy, my brain was installed in the part where he chewed up the duchy as gum.
"Enough. Let's stop reading."
I closed my eyes to suppress the anger.
Sigh, I wasted time on emotions.
***
It was an unfamiliar ceiling.
A luxurious chandelier filled my vision, and the air I breathed felt completely different.
There was also the smell of burning wood somewhere.
"...What?"
My voice wasn't that. It was lower and drier.
I raised my hand.
Long, thin fingers. A couple of faint scars on the back of my hand, and the sleeve was white linen shirt, which couldn't be in my closet.
I jumped up. My head spun but I ignored it and looked around the room.
Where did my one-room apartment go? In the spacious room, heavy walnut furniture was placed solidly.
On the desk, extinguished candles and a small gold candlestick, neatly arranged books.
"...This isn't a reincarnation, is it?"
As someone who ate up novels without genre, I could be sure.
Since my senses were clear, it wasn't a dream.
This was reincarnation.
Moreover, looking at the appearance of the things in the room, it was clearly a reincarnation into a noble, not a beggar. A very high noble at that.
Yo, Hyeon-sang. You're done for.
Your life is over, man.
"Mirror, mirror."
Since it's like this, I want to look good.
In the mirror, it was a strange young man. Platinum blonde hair moved with each reaction, and dark navy eyes looked at me from the mirror.
The aristocratic features gave a strangely sharp impression.
"No way, this shit."
I knew this face.
Killian von Eberhardt.
The eldest son who was assassinated in the novel I was reading just a moment ago, with a one-line exit.
Without hesitation, I slammed my forehead against the wall.
Thud!
"...It's really not a dream."
A tear pricked my eye.
It was good that the reincarnation happened to me, which I only saw in creative works.
But especially to this character.
This would be lower probability than a lottery, but why is the prize a death sentence.
The emotional letdown brought fatigue.
The sensation at my fingertips told me this wasn't a dream.
I had entered the romance fantasy where I was re-reading just a moment ago. Definitely.
If this was a cruel dream, too bad. I might not know when I'd wake up.
***
Let's summarize the situation.
The Northern Grand Duke Theodore was already dead. Grand Duchess Violetta was maintaining the duchy with her three children, but the foundation was almost broken.
Soon, Marquis Chester Lawrence would gather surrounding nobles and swallow the duchy. The eldest son Killian would be assassinated before that, and then the whole family—
Thinking up to there, my throat felt rough.
Should I run away?
It was a natural thought that came to mind. If I was really reincarnated, this world was reality, and in reality, wasn't life the most important?
Since I knew the timeline, I could escape before the dangerous point.
I seriously considered this wonderful option.
And discarded it cleanly.
What am I supposed to do with just one body in this romance world? Do I have the confidence to survive alone without giving up my status, money, or knowing anyone?
The conclusion was simple. For me to live, the duchy had to live.
It was annoying, but what could I do.
There had to be a fence around the duchy to eat or make money. Extremely rational judgment.
Let's make a plan.
Stabilize the duchy, hand over the second son's position, and I disappear. Live comfortably in some quiet place in the Empire's border, enjoying the rest of my life.
By using the original novel knowledge to rebuild the duchy, wouldn't it create an enormous backer for the duchy?
A clean, no-frills plan.
"Hah... For now, let's move. I thought my life was over, but that's not the case."
At that moment, a knock sounded.
"Lord, are you alright? I heard a sound of you falling and came up."
The voice beyond the door was that of an elderly man. It was probably the duchy butler Lucas.
"Come in."
The door opened, and an old man with white hair entered bowing his head. Black uniform, white gloves. Clearly a person who had served the duchy for decades.
"I'm sorry, Lord. Is your body not feeling well...?"
"No. I just fell because I was dizzy for a moment."
The voice came out naturally. Whether it was a habit of the body, the language of the Empire flowed smoothly on my tongue like it was attached.
It was fortunate. If I had to learn the language one by one, there would be no plan or anything.
Now, information was needed.
"Lucas."
"Yes, Lord."
"How long has it been since Father passed away."
Lucas's wrinkled eyelids trembled once.
"Three months and ten days."
Compared to the original timeline, it was still early. The Marquisate starting to move in earnest was from half a year after the Grand Duke's death, so there was still about two and a half months of leeway.
Not bad. There was enough time.
"Have there been many condolences?"
This time, it took Lucas time to answer.
"...Officially, three families sent condolences."
Three.
The Empire's 3rd rank, the Emperor's long-time friend, the Empire's strongest swordsman. Such a man died, but only three condolences? It meant the remaining nobles had already abandoned the duchy.
"Of those, two were just formal letters, and only one place from the Imperial family sent a direct envoy."
More serious than expected.
In the original, the Emperor wanted to protect the duchy but lacked power. A typical powerless emperor.
Lucas's voice lowered by one tone.
"Lord. Actually, there is something I wanted to tell you today."
"Tell me."
"The Lawrence Marquisate has dispatched a special envoy. I just confirmed a letter that they will arrive in the afternoon tomorrow."
Two and a half months leeway? Bullshit.
It was much earlier than the original.
I wanted to curse inwardly but kept my face still.
The schedule was already derailed from the first day of reincarnation. Wasn't this world supposed to flow according to the original? Or was it because of me?
"Scale?"
"Four knights, two administrators, including the special envoy, seven in total."
It was overly armed for a condolence envoy. Showing an overt move against the duchy on the verge of collapse of the knight order.
Anger rose. The plan to live comfortably was shaken from the first day.
Lucas asked cautiously.
"Should I tell the madam as well?"
"No."
If the Grand Duchess heard this news, she would stay up all night with wide eyes.
In the original, she lifted the teacup with trembling hands in front of the special envoy and spilled it. That trembling was read as a weakness, and the Marquisate guys became more arrogant.
It was better not to tell her anything.
"I will tell her myself. At an appropriate time."
"...Understood, Lord."
Lucas's eyes widened a bit. He was looking at me as if I had made some great resolution.
"And Lucas."
"Yes, Lord."
"The father's study... is it still as is?"
This time, his eye sockets reddened as if he couldn't hide his emotions.
"I kept it as it was the day Father passed, under the madam’s order not to touch it."
"The key?"
"The madam is keeping it herself."
There was a path to the Northern Grand Duke's secret training ground somewhere in the study. The place where Theodore honed the duchy’s swordsmanship alone.
There, there would be Father's sword, and the aura would be sleeping in that sword.
I had never properly held a sword in my life, but the blood of the Eberhardt family flowed in this body. Since the setting of Bloodline Awakening was in the original, there was a probability.
That probability... wasn't comforting, but.
"I will meet Mother. Let's go, Lucas."
"Right now?"
"I need the study key."
Lucas looked at me for a moment. I could read what he was thinking.
Hey, butler. It's not some grand thing like inheriting will. I just want to live.
But I didn't need to correct it. If the misunderstanding led to loyalty, there was no loss.
Lucas finally bowed respectfully.
"I will escort you."
It was the moment I was about to open the door and go out to the corridor.
From the other side of the corridor, small footsteps were heard. The one who appeared around the corner was a small girl with platinum blonde hair fluttering.
Cheeks rosy, eyes big and round.
Stella von Eberhardt.
Was she ten? The girl who was lying on the corpse of the second son Felix in the original, crying.
The moment she noticed me, her face lit up brightly.
"Oppa!"
Two small arms wrapped around my waist tightly.
Along with the warm body temperature, the smell of soap came from the girl's hair. The character that only existed in the novel's sentences was alive and smiling.
"Oppa was in the room all day today! Didn't eat anything! Stella was worried!"
The third-person speech was annoying.
Worry was deeply embedded in the girl's voice mixed with complaints.
I placed my hand on Stella's head. The soft hair danced in my palm.
Yes. It's confirmed.
Save the duchy, clean it up, and disappear. That was enough.
I didn't want to see this kid crying with blood all over her.
"Lucas, keep guiding."
Stella naturally stuck to my side and walked together. Her small hand held my sleeve tightly and didn't let go.
She chattered beside me. The story that flowers bloomed in the garden today, the story that Felix oppa practiced swordsmanship alone and slipped, the story that Mother was staring out the window unusually today.
I half-listened, thinking in my head about how to respond to the special envoy visiting tomorrow.
When we arrived in front of the Grand Duchess's room, a faint sobbing sound seeped out from inside the door.
Stella's chattering stopped exactly. Her small hand gripped my sleeve more tightly.
The child probably knew. That Mother cried every night.
She just didn't say it to oppa.
Lucas stopped his hand about to knock and turned to me.
The sobbing beyond the door was thin but seemed endless.
There was only one way to stop this crying.
Cardiopulmonary resuscitation of the collapsing duchy.
"Lucas. Knock."