"I'm… exercising, father" I gasped out between dying noises.
"Trying to put this belly fat on the endangered species list."
His eyebrows flew so high they nearly escaped his forehead.
"You don't need to work so hard," he said, stepping closer with real worry in his voice.
"I need this father, how could I help you if I couldn't even run."
"Seraphine, I'm doing everything in my power to put food on the table. You shouldn't—"
"I know, Father."
And I did know.
Because last night, while mentally planning my runaway-diet fantasies, I overheard him talking to merchants downstairs in the parlor.
Don't ask me how—I swear, my hearing was suddenly super hearing.
Like some kind of thick superhero.
They discussed exports—sugar, flour, salt, pepper—basic goods that apparently cost more than my dignity.
The merchants talked about taxes.
My father talked about debt.
And all of it came down to the same sad fact:
The Duke had barely any gold coins left.
So here I was, panting in the garden, fat and informed.
"Father…" I said after catching enough breath to use words again,
"You know I lost some of my memories because of the fever, right?"
"Yes?" he frowned.
"Um, what exactly is the main money-maker of this territory? I mean, surely, if this place was once rich, something must've made it rich."
He blinked at me, confused. He sighed before answering, "We were once an export of mana stones, we have mines."
"Really?"
"Yes, we were into farming, we have potatoes and wheat. But since your mother died, and the famine, everything was ruined. The mines were now closed because of dark magic and monster, the farm, because of the weather.
Hmmm…
"No rain?" I asked while breathing so hard.
"Yes."
"That is very sad. Poor territory, no income and no rain." I groaned but I was already in full Isekai Overachiever Mode™.
Because listen—my high school self?
SHE WAS SCREAMING.
This was the isekai fantasy I used to obsess over.
Me. A Duke's daughter.
In a poor household.
Trying to revive the territory with modern knowledge and cheat skills. (Unfortunately I don't have a cheat skill because I'm not the main lead here.)
But still, this was like every transmigration novel ever.
I used to joke about getting hit by a magical truck and waking up in a fantasy world. Well—
Here I am, baby. Living the dream.
(and dying while jogging, but we don't talk about that.)
"So," I continued, throwing my ponytail dramatically like a witch,
"Father, I'd like to visit the villages. Do some inspection. Take notes. Fix things. Bring back prosperity and glory and all that good stuff."
The Duke stared at me as if I had grown a second head.
Then—
A single tear fell down his cheek. "Please father, I want to help you."
Dramatic much?
Yes.
But also kind of wholesome.
He nodded. "Yes… Seraphine. If that is what you wish. I'll have Coffi and two guards accompany you."
I clapped like a deranged seal.
"Perfect! Adventure time!"
Coffi looked terrified.
One of the guards looked like he regretted his entire career.
But who cares?
I was excited.
*****
The real fantasy plot was beginning—
or not, because the horse carriage I was stuck in was currently assassinating my butt cheeks.
There was no cushion. NONE.
Just wooden betrayal.
Every hit on the dirt road sent a shockwave straight up my spine, out my ears, and into the heavens so the gods could laugh at me.
The road itself?
Dry. Cracked. Windy. The kind of landscape you'd see in a post-apocalyptic movie where someone screams, "THE END IS NEAR!" while holding a chicken.
And me?
My dress was too tight. TOO. TIGHT.
Sure, it was once some elegant concoction of linen, fur, embroidery, and shiny gemstones. A whole "your father is a duke" aesthetic.
But right now?
The bodice was suffocating my boobs, the seams were threatening to burst, and the fur collar was making me itch like I was hosting a colony of fleas.
Coffi sat across from me, clutching the side of the carriage like this was her first time riding one—not because she was scared, but because my body weight bouncing on this death crate was sending her airborne.
"Milady…" she whispered, bracing herself. "Are you… doing well?"
"No," I deadpanned. "My soul has left my body twice. The next bump might kill me."
The guard riding in the front sneezed. The wind carried it back to us like powdered doom.
By the time we reached the village, I was ready to kiss the ground…
…until I actually SAW the village.
"Oh hell," I blurted, stepping down from the carriage with the grace of a potato. "What in the medieval zombie apocalypse is this?"
Coffi scrambled behind me, her skirts flying. "Milady, please, lower your voice—"
"I refuse," I said. "I absolutely REFUSE."
Because the village?
WAS DYING.
Dry land, cracked earth, hot wind blowing like dragon breath.
Once-charming medieval houses now looked like they had given up on life. Shutters hung crooked. Doors creaked. The market square—once bustling—was empty except for a chicken that looked two days away from giving up.
People staggered around like ghosts.
Children were thin.
Shops were CLOSED.
Even the wharf was empty—boats gone, nets rotting.
It was a nightmare.
"This used to look like those cute European towns," I whispered, devastated. "Like those well-preserved medieval villages in Germany or Italy? The ones influencers pose in with expensive gelato?"
Coffi blinked. "Germany? Italy? Is that… a herb?"
I patted her head. "No, sweetheart. It's a dream you will never experience."
We walked farther in, and I saw a sign swinging weakly over a small shop.
A bakery.
Or rather, a corpse of a bakery.
Inside, a middle-aged man looked up from sweeping dust that probably used to be bread.
His eyes widened.
"Milady Seraphine…?"
I forced a smile and hoped I didn't look like a bloated raccoon in embroidery.
"That's Uncle Brutus, the bakery owner, you loved his bread before, milady," Coffi whispered.
"Uncle Brutus!" I said. "You're still alive!"
Coffi elbowed me. "Milady—"
"What?" I whispered. "I genuinely thought he died. He was old when I was ten." I wondered why I remembered that.
Uncle Brutus huffed. "I'm fifty-two."
"Oh. My bad. You've aged… fast."
Coffi made a strangled noise.
Brutus sighed. "Well, famine makes everyone age."
That shut me up.
I looked around his empty shelves—
No bread.
No flour.
No customers.
Not even rats.
"Uncle Brutus… what happened?"
"The wharf dried up, caravans stopped coming, and the last harvest was poor. Your father tries… but the taxes from the Crown…" He shook his head. "We're barely hanging on."
I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry to hear that, uncle Brutus." I said sadly but Coffi whispered that Brutus was her uncle not mine.
"Oh…Sorry about that, I lost some of my memories from the fever."
"I heard that news too." Brutus replied with a sigh. "Sorry to hear that, milady."
My earlier complaints about tight dresses and sad tea suddenly felt stupid.
But of course, being me, I ruined the solemn moment.
"So basically," I said, hands on hips, "we're broke-broke."
Coffi gasped. Brutus choked on air.
"As in… financially collapsing with enthusiasm."
"Milady—!" Coffi whispered urgently.
"What?" I snapped. "Look around! Even the chickens look depressed!"
A chicken outside made a noise of agreement.
Brutus rubbed his temple. "You haven't changed."
"I have gained fifty pounds or more," I corrected. "Big difference."
Coffi nodded like this was a tragic fact of life.
"So," I continued, clapping my hands sharply. "Uncle B. If this territory was once rich—what was the main money maker? Like… What made us peak? Flour? Salt? Fish? Magic potatoes?"
Brutus actually chuckled. "You always were imaginative. But no. Our wealth came from… mana stones, mines and crops and of course, and yes, sugar."
Coffi gasped. "Sugar! The one we don't have!"
"Yes," Brutus said bitterly. "Because the trade routes collapsed. No one can import it, and no one here can afford what little arrives."
I blinked.
Then I grinned.
"Oh," I said slowly. "So you're telling me our territory used to be the land of sweeteners… and now it's the land of sadness?"
Brutus stared at me. "In a manner of speaking… yes."
Coffi whispered, "Milady… what are you planning…"
"Plotting," I corrected.
"Plotting??"
"Yes. Like any self-respecting transmigrated heroine—" I posed dramatically— "I'm going to fix this kingdom with my high school-level ideas and zero economic knowledge."
Brutus sank into a chair.
Coffi crossed herself.
The chicken outside fainted.
"And," I added, practically vibrating with excitement, "we are absolutely bringing SUGAR and GOLD COINS BACK."
Coffi raised a finger. "Milady, with what money?"
I grinned even wider.
"…I have no idea. But it will come to me."
Brutus sighed. "We're doomed, aren't we?"
"Oh yes," I said cheerfully. "But doomed with a plan."
And that was the moment…
The real plot finally started.