Broadcasting My Death-Flags in Real Time

The world of Crimson Butterfly had entered the era of steam power and machinery.

Classic automobiles now cruised the streets, though they were mostly owned by the upper class. One such family was the Hudfords.

Fortunately, they had specialized chauffeurs, sparing me the trouble of figuring out how to operate vehicles in this world—machines that were likely far more complex than anything I was used to.

"Hey, Sis."

"Sis?" The girl sitting beside me snapped, her sharp tone cutting through the air.

Wait—was that the wrong call?

"Did you hit your head or something?"

"D-did I said it wrong?"

"Well… not exactly. It just sounds weird."

What's really weird is you, I thought.

I had studied Ethan Hudford's character thoroughly, and I was certain—he had no siblings.

And wasn't his father supposed to be bedridden with a chronic illness? Yet in this world, he had already passed away three years ago?

"Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe we got the date wrong, you know about this death anniversary stuff."

"Huh? What? No, no, no. This is just one of your tricks. Admit it—you just don't want to attend the memorial, right?"

"My 'father' isn't dead."

"You keep saying that, and honestly, it's getting annoying." She let out a sigh and grabbed my shoulders. "This isn't the time to be weak and run from reality. It's his third death anniversary. The third!"

"So?"

She smacked her forehead in frustration. "That means it's time for the inheritance to be divided!"

Shouldn't that have been settled long ago? As the only son, Ethan should have inherited everything.

Then—ah… I get it now.

The Hudfords weren't a traditional noble family. Their rise in status had only happened in the last generation.

The family's foundation was built on trade.

And to expand the 'family business,' everyone was expected to receive their share.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I won't let our power fall into the hands of those damn uncles of ours."

Before I could even worry about bosses or protagonists, I was already caught in a more familiar struggle—family politics.

*#*

The memorial was held in a grand building resembling a cathedral. Two winged statues guarded the entrance, their stone forms exuding an eerie presence. Silver ornaments and inscriptions in an unfamiliar language adorned the walls.

Yet, somehow, I could read them: Surrender yourself to the Father.

Inside, the pews were filled with people in formal attire. Some were clad in full tuxedos, complete with hats and canes. Others wore gowns so long they swept the floor.

Their presence was suffocating, exuding power and authority.

It felt like being summoned to a superior's office after making a serious mistake at work.

I already wanted to shrink away.

"Let's crush those bastards," my 'sister' whispered, squeezing my left hand.

That only made me more nervous.

I still didn't understand what I had to fight and why.

Couldn't this be settled with a fair and equal distribution?

"Oh… he actually showed up!"

"At a time like this? What a disgraceful son. He's only here for his father's wealth."

"Don't look at him—you'll be cursed!"

I hadn't even spoken a word, yet I was already the target of whispered accusations.

Ignoring them, my sister pulled me toward the front row—surprisingly empty.

At the pulpit, a man dressed in priestly robes paused his prayers, his gaze locking onto mine.

The room's attention shifted toward me in an instant.

"Young Master," the priest spoke. "You truly came."

I swallowed hard.

But my sister answered for me. "Of course he did," she said, her voice laced with satisfaction.

"In that case, the stage is yours, Young Master." The priest bowed and stepped aside.

Wait—what?

I was supposed to give a speech?

But I hadn't prepared anything!

I turned to my gothic-dressed 'sister' with a look of horror.

Please. Save me from this nightmare.

Then my hand suddenly brushed against something… crinkly?

I looked down. A rolled parchment?

"Do you trust me?" she whispered.

What kind of question is that now?

"Just read it. The names listed are the ones you can trust."

I frowned, still confused.

"Young Master, if you would please…." The priest's second call echoed through the room, impatience growing among the audience.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the stage and approached the podium.

The last time I gave a speech was in middle school, and the experience had been humiliating.

Some random kids had laughed at me outright and mocked my words.

But now, laughter was probably the least of my worries.

Clearing my throat, I unrolled the parchment.

The writing was in an unfamiliar alphabet. Yet, I could read it.

"Thank you to all my beloved guests, brothers, sisters, uncles, cousins, and dear relatives for attending this important occasion."

So far, it sounded like a standard welcoming speech.

At least, at the start.

"My father left behind many responsibilities—burdens too heavy for me to bear alone. Therefore, I, Ethan Hudford, carrying forward his will and our cherished traditions, appoint the following names to assist me."

Ah. So this was what my 'sister' meant—the list of people I could trust.

Frederick to govern the North.

Victor to take charge in Canae.

Gideon to oversee Silavesta.

I froze.

Then, I glanced at the audience. There were at least eight different families here, each seated in separate sections.

I had no idea who Victor or Gideon even were.

But if I only called out three names, wouldn't that turn the rest against me?

I looked to my sister once more.

She just nodded.

She isn't even my real sister.

Can I really trust her?

"Thererefore, further discussions will be handled privately."

The room erupted into murmurs.

I could hear the mix of ridicule and confusion in their whispers.

Then, a man stood from his seat.

"Is this a joke, Young Master?" His voice dripped with disgust and scorn.

The way he said Young Master sounded more like mockery than respect.

Of course. There was bound to be someone who would voice their dissent.

"I believe this decision shouldn't be rushed, especially given the circumstances—"

"Precisely because of the circumstances, you must decide now," the man interrupted. "Three years. Archibald asked us to give you three years to mourn, and because of that, countless projects have stalled. Thousands—no, millions of Kuons have been lost. We are not here to wait any longer!"

D-damn.

So ignoring my sister's plan had only landed me in a bigger mess?

I glanced at her, but she simply looked away.

"Hmph. From the start, we never needed an incompetent leader like you."

Did that mean… he wanted to get rid of me? Right here?

Was this… an open coup?

"The Hudford family were warriors before they were merchants. Archibald may have shown us that money is sweet, but blood is just as sweet."

The man pointed at me, his gaze burning with fierce hostility.

"Ethan Hudford, I challenge you—for the right to be head of this family!"