"Cough!"
A metallic, rancid taste burst across her tongue.
It wasn't just the taste of blood—it was far too thick, sticky, and nauseating.A scorching liquid surged up her throat, stealing her breath.
Rubia instinctively pulled a white handkerchief from her bosom and pressed it to her lips.Agony tore through her body—like her lungs were being wrung dry, like the inside of her chest was being seared with red-hot iron. Her vision flashed white.
"Huff… ngh…"
She braced herself against the desk. Crimson blood seeped between her trembling fingers.It took about a minute for the pain to ebb away.
A minute that felt like eternity.
Rubia lowered the handkerchief.A vivid red flower bloomed on pristine white silk.
"Ha… damn it hurts. Seriously."
Rubia—no, Kim Heejin, once the top M&A specialist in South Korea—crumpled the handkerchief in irritation and tossed it into the trash.
A translucent system window flickered in the air like a warning signal.
[Warning: Vitality decreased by 0.5%][Current Status: Pulmonary necrosis progressing][Remaining lifespan: 98 days, 14 hours, 23 minutes]
Three months.
That was the brutally simple conclusion she had reached one week after possessing the body of a character in this godforsaken romance fantasy novel, The Duke's Terminally Ill Youngest Daughter.
I'm going to die.
Her lungs would rot away. She would cough up blood and die alone in a freezing northern castle.
According to the original story, Rubia was sold off into marriage to pay her family's debts, only to succumb to stress and die within three months.
"What a garbage setting."
But Kim Heejin—and now Rubia—had no intention of dying quietly.
Who was she, after all?A woman who revived a bankrupt company during the IMF crisis.Who survived the Lehman Brothers collapse and earned the nickname The Witch of Yeouido.
Did this world really think she'd kneel to a novel's plot?
Her cold gaze shifted to the ledgers scattered across the desk.
Dust-covered red leather books, filled with nothing but negative numbers.
−120,000 gold (Gambling debts)
−50,000 gold (Luxury purchases)
−300,000 gold (Usurious loan interest)
The finances of House Firth were as rotten as her lungs.
Rip.
Rubia picked up a quill and slashed a line through one of the entries, the nib biting into the paper as if to tear it apart.
She was just about to write a new number—
BANG!
The heavy mahogany doors flew open.
Knocking, apparently, did not exist in this dysfunctional household.
The head maid rushed in, face pale, bowing deeply.
"M-Miss… His Grace the Duke is summoning you. I-immediately, to his office…"
"Now?"
Rubia checked her wristwatch with a frown.
2:30 p.m.Thirty minutes before the financial markets closed—prime time.
"If I go now, I'll lose the momentum."
But ignoring the summons meant a one-way trip to the dungeon.After all, this family treated its daughter as a disposable asset.
"Fine. Tell him I'm coming."
She stood up—and promptly staggered, gripping the desk as dizziness washed over her.
Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. Anyone could tell she was terminally ill.
Rubia took a red lipstick from her vanity and applied it generously, forcing life into her lips.
"I'm not dead yet."
She murmured it like a mantra.
Hide your weaknesses. Exaggerate your strengths.That was the foundation of survival.
She slipped a thin folder she had hidden in the corner of her desk into her arms.
It was her lifeline.
And the hostile M&A plan that would swallow this decaying noble house whole.
The Duke's office reeked of rotting greed.
The Duke of Firth lounged arrogantly in a massive leather chair, puffing on a cigar.His greasy belly strained against his vest buttons, and his murky eyes gleamed with avarice.
On either side of him stood Rubia's half-brothers, Jerome and Kyle, snickering.
"You're here, money-leech."
The Duke exhaled cigar smoke as he spoke.A nickname meaning a parasite that only consumes money.
"You summoned me, Father."
Rubia did not bow. She met his gaze head-on.
The Duke's eyebrow twitched.The timid girl who usually trembled in fear was looking him straight in the eye.
"I won't waste words. Pack your things."
He tossed a document envelope onto the desk.
"A marriage proposal came from the Grand Duchy of Ragnarok. Or rather—instead of demanding repayment from our debt-ridden house, they'll take you."
The Grand Duchy of Ragnarok.
Rubia's pupils trembled slightly.
The starting point of the original story.
Kaelus von Ragnarok.The Mad Dog of the North.A war fiend. A butcher. A blood-hungry beast.
But according to the original plot—
He wasn't just a mad dog.
He was absurdly handsome, impeccably built, and most importantly—
A ridiculously rich sucker.
So wealthy money practically rotted in his vaults, yet so ignorant of the world that he fell for every scam imaginable.
A walking ATM.
"So I'm being sold?"
"Sold? This is a noble sacrifice for the family. Your brothers lost a bit too much money at the gambling tables… ahem, business investments fell short."
Jerome sneered as he chimed in.
"Hey, Rubia. Who'd even want a sickly bitch like you? Be grateful that Grand Duke freak has weird tastes. Just lie there like a corpse and he'll still feed you."
"Yeah, the North might be cold, but you'll be dead soon anyway—"
Kyle shut up abruptly when he noticed the Duke's glare.
"We negotiated a 30% debt reduction as alimony. Just keep that mad dog pleased. The carriage leaves tomorrow morning. Get out."
That was it.
Decision made.Notice delivered.
That was how House Firth treated Rubia.
She bit her lip. The metallic taste of blood returned.
But this time, it wasn't her lungs that hurt.
It was her pride.
Kim Heejin—the woman who once moved billions in capital—would not crumble from treatment like this.
"I refuse."
The air froze.
A calm, icy voice split the room.
"What did you say?"
"I said I won't go north. I am not collateral to be sold."
"You crazy bitch! Have you lost your mind?! How dare you talk back!"
Jerome shouted, raising his hand as if to strike her.
Rubia didn't flinch.
Instead, she stepped forward and slammed the folder she'd been holding onto the desk.
BANG!
"What is that?"
The Duke asked incredulously.
"A business proposal."
"What?"
"Selling me to the northern duke only clears 30% of the debt. And who knows when that mad dog might change his mind and come knocking with an army."
Rubia leaned forward, bracing herself on the desk, locking eyes with the Duke.
Mad certainty burned in her gaze—the eyes of someone with nothing left to lose.
"Give me one year. No—just one trading company to manage.I'll repay all of this family's debt. One hundred percent."
"Hah! Even a passing dog would laugh! You? How would a coughing shut-in pull that off?"
Kyle burst into laughter.
Naturally.Rubia had never negotiated a deal in her life—at least, not in this world.
"If you don't trust me, let's put up collateral."
She flipped to the last page of the folder.
It wasn't a proposal.
It was a second ledger—dense with tiny writing and numbers.
"W-What is this…?"
Jerome's face drained of color. Kyle's mouth fell open.
"Records of the estate funds you've embezzled over the past three years under the name of business expenses. The dates line up perfectly with your gambling losses."
She smiled sweetly.
"Oh—and Father's illegal slave trade purchases that were never reported to the Imperial Court. Add tax evasion charges, and the sentence gets… quite hefty."
The Duke's face cycled through red, blue, and white.
Rage. Panic. Fear.
"You— You little bitch! You investigated us?!"
"Not investigated. Organized. I'm good with numbers."
Rubia smiled.
Beautiful. Fragile.
And utterly terrifying.
"Choose, Father.
Option one: Send me north. And tomorrow, the Imperial Audit Office receives this ledger anonymously. The house goes bankrupt. My brothers go to prison. You lose your title.
Option two: Hand over control of the collapsing Firth Trading Company to me. Stay silent, and let me repay the debts with the money I earn."
Perfect blackmail.
A specialty of financial expert Kim Heejin.
The Duke's hands trembled as he picked up the ledger.
The evidence was undeniable.
If this leaked, House Firth was finished.
"…The term?"
He ground out.
"One year."
Rubia answered without hesitation.
"If I fail to repay everything within one year, I'll walk north myself—to the Grand Duke, or even straight into hell.And I'll hand over the original ledger. I stake my life on it."
Silence fell.
The brothers watched nervously.The Duke calculated furiously.
No downside.Success meant salvation. Failure meant losing one daughter.
"…Fine."
He slammed the ledger shut.
"But I won't provide a single coin of operating capital."
"Of course. Starting from zero is far more exhilarating."
Rubia turned without another glance.
"Then we have a deal, Your Grace."
Back in her room, Rubia collapsed onto the bed.
As the tension drained away, the pain surged back like a broken dam.
"Cough! Ghk—!"
Blood splattered across the white sheets—more than before.
The room spun. Death clawed at her ankles, dragging her down.
"…Damn it."
With shaking hands, she pulled a faded scrap of newspaper from the depths of her drawer.
Information from the future.
[Imperial Year 325, April 15.Northern Grand Duke Kaelus von Ragnarok discovers a mana-stone mine…Value: impossible to assess.]
That date was tomorrow.
The day an empire-defining mana-stone mine would be discovered in the northern wastelands—land no one cared about.
In the original story, the clueless duke sold it to the Imperial Court for a pittance.
"Idiot Duke."
Rubia wiped the blood from her lips and grinned.
The world didn't know yet.
By tomorrow morning, that land would be worth a thousand times more.
And the land used as collateral?
Belonged to the Firth Trading Company she had just acquired.
"One year? Please."
She crushed the newspaper scrap in her fist.
The rustling sounded like a victory fanfare.
"I've already made money.By tomorrow morning."
Her eyes gleamed with greed.
The family's debt?Her medical bills?
Pocket change.
All that remained was dealing with the hyenas who would come sniffing once they smelled money.
And the first hyena—
No. The oversized guard dog—
Would be you.
The northern grand duke who would smash through the trading company's doors tomorrow morning.
"Wait for me, Your Grace."
She smiled coldly.
"I'll make you bark—for a very expensive price."