I Possessed The Immoral Empress

“What, her eyes?”

“Yes. Well, magic is inherently mysterious, a remnant of the divine on this earth. So, it’s natural for it to have some peculiarities.”

“But still, to determine the heir to magic just by the color of one’s eyes?”

“Well, whether being born with a constitution suited for curse magic turns the eyes purple, I’m not sure, but that’s how it is.”

“Huh?”

Despite the Trivian Empire becoming an empire only four generations ago, it has stood shoulder to shoulder with the ancient Ballius Empire as one of only two empires on the continent, thanks to the remnants of mystical magic it possesses. Although most of the mystic traces have faded, leaving few magicians capable of wielding magic as powerful as at the time of its founding, the presence of a magician on the battlefield remains an absolute advantage in this land where melee combat prevails.

“Why would he be upset if his child was to inherit magic? Shouldn’t he be happy?”

Leopold frowned, genuinely unable to understand.

“Think of it like the Innian Duchess being exceptionally talented but still ineligible to become the emperor.”

“Ah…”

The current emperor, Leopold’s grandfather, was not like the Duke of Francoise, who abused his daughter. He cherished his only beloved daughter, granting her a portion of the empress’s power after her passing. Yet, despite his love, he never considered Innian as a successor, viewing her solely as a beloved child, naturally excluded from succession.

“It’s the same with the Duke. The family tradition dictates that the son should continue the lineage, but the mark of the legitimate heir to the curse magic appeared on his daughter. That doesn’t justify abusing her, though.”

“I see.”

“Yes. The Duke has been abusing his magically more potent daughter, trying to make his son, who lacks the Merciful Eyes, into an immune successor to curses.”

After Langen finished, Leopold was lost in thought for a while.

His mother was intelligent and ambitious, qualities enough to challenge for succession if she were a man. Yet, she always remained cautious, never stepping beyond the boundaries of the power granted to her. As long as she stayed within those limits, the emperor’s love for her was secure.

‘Why doesn’t mom join the uncles over there?’

During a sacrificial ceremony to the gods, while the emperor’s sons all stood in ceremonial robes in front of the altar, Innian stood alone at the back, merely watching.

To young Leopold’s question, Innian replied with a bitter smile, “Because I’m a daughter.”

Young Leopold didn’t fully understand his mother’s words at the time, quickly distracted by the grand ceremony and ceasing to ask further questions.

“So, it’s because she’s a daughter.”

Disliking a daughter as a successor is one thing, Leopold thought. While he didn’t agree, he understood it was a common notion among noble men.

“But abuse is a different issue.”

After all, wasn’t a child not chosen as a successor still their child?

“Exactly. No reason justifies abusing one’s own child.”

Langen nodded with a grim expression, seemingly in agreement with Leopold.

“So, my father sent me to such a place.”

Leopold had begun to grasp the stench of blood that permeated the capital. Initially, he felt as if he had been exiled, but upon hearing that the war of bastards had escalated beyond political machinations to actual fatalities, he came to view his dispatch here as a gesture of his father’s consideration.

Yet, this land harbored a witch treated as a bastard despite being born to the wife, a daughter no less.

“What was my father thinking, sending me here?”

It was a somewhat abrupt question, but Langen seemed to have a clear answer, as if he had read Leopold’s mind.

“I’ve wondered that too. Perhaps it was his way of making you choose?”

“Choose?”

The idea sent chills down Leopold’s spine.

‘It can’t be. That expression was surely one of utter exhaustion, on the verge of abandoning everything.’

“Didn’t he send his most nobly born son among the bastards to a place known for its curse magic?”

“What?”

Leopold struggled to recall the face of his father at their parting.

‘He wore a tired, empty smile.’

But was that really it? Was that weariness and emptiness genuine?

“No way!!”

Crash!

Leopold rose so abruptly from his seat that the chair toppled over behind him.

“What is it?”

“It’s impossible! It just can’t be!”

Leopold had finally understood the meaning behind that faint smile.

It wasn’t the eyes of a father tired from his sons’ conflicts or sending away a son he could never care for. That smile, that faint smile.

The beautiful blue eyes, though faded from their former glory, still bore traces of glorious days, now harboring malice.

A deep, unfathomable abyss writhing with pitch-black malice.

He was expecting it.

Expecting this son to draw the Francoise Duchy, known for its curse magic, into the war of bastards, turning it into a bloody family massacre.

Fear.

It was the first thought that crossed Leopold’s mind upon realizing the true nature of the figure known as father.

‘I’m scared, so scared!’

Having met various people on his wanderings, had he ever encountered a human being with such a bottomless malice?

Even condemned criminals, guilty of heinous crimes, cherished their children.

Shivering with an overwhelming fear he had never felt before, Leopold trembled as Langen knelt quietly before him.

“You don’t have to be adrift. After all, a father who is as good as absent isn’t much of a loss, is he? Your future is yours to choose.”

Langen’s face, plain with its deep brown eyes, held a determination that Leopold had never seen before. Langen had never cared who died in the capital; as long as Leopold, his master, wasn’t the one dying, it didn’t matter. Deep down, though he hadn’t voiced it, Langen had hoped Leopold would ally with the Duke of Francoise and enter the succession war for the throne. If it could make his master emperor, Langen would have gladly eliminated all the other illegitimate heirs.

“You knew, didn’t you? Why my father sent me here.”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything? You used to sing it every day. That among the emperor’s children, the only one fit to be emperor was the princess, my mother. Saying I should go off and establish a kingdom somewhere and make her the empress?”

These were the words Langen, originally a servant of Innian, had told Leopold when he came to serve him, venting to the boy back then. It seems Leopold still remembered those words.

Langen held Leopold’s hand with a bittersweet but firm smile.

“What’s this? Why are you being so creepy?”

The son of his master, more precious than his own life. Over countless shared moments, this son had become even more precious than his original master. If possible, he would have pushed Leopold into the fierce battle for the throne.

But Langen couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Because I swore. I swore to my former master, the princess, and to myself that I would protect you at all costs, both body and soul.”

Leopold, by nature not cruel, wasn’t someone who could kill his siblings and live on unscathed.

There was a time when Langen wished his master were more ambitious and ruthless, but now he was glad that his heart still resembled that of a human. Despite inheriting the blood of that demonic man, he was proud that Leopold still maintained warmth in his soul.

“Yeah, I see. Thanks for saying so, even if it’s you.”

Leopold gave Langen’s hand a firm squeeze before pulling away with a grimace as if the gesture was repulsive.

Langen, too, blew on his hand that had held Leopold’s and shook it off before standing up.

“What a pair we are, both stuck with the worst fathers.”

From that day on, Leopold’s eyes always searched for Ermedeline.

Wandering the castle, whenever he happened to encounter her, he would check if she had been subjected to harsh torture or poisoned.

Every time Ermedeline caught his gaze, even for just a few seconds, she would make a face as if she had seen something repulsive and quickly remove herself from his view.

Yet, despite such silent insults, Leopold couldn’t cut off his concern for Ermedeline.

Whether it was a youthful sense of justice wanting to save a princess trapped in a tower, or empathy for someone suffering under a devilish father, Leopold’s interest in Ermedeline only grew.

When Ermedeline was in his presence, his once stiff heart began to race with moisture, and when she wasn’t, he became crazily anxious, worrying if she was in pain or if she might die.

Thus, on a night when Ermedeline had not been seen for several days, Leopold climbed a tree.

The large tree, grown close to the window of Ermedeline’s room, covered her window entirely. Although he usually disliked the tree for making it difficult to see into Ermedeline’s room, tonight he was grateful for its presence.

Feeling guilty for peeping into a grown lady’s room and simultaneously worried about Ermedeline, Leopold cautiously peered into her bedroom.

The room was dark.

His heart, which had been leaping as if he were about to commit theft, seemed pointless now with the dark bedroom and even the curtains drawn.

‘Of course. Why would the lady’s room be openly exposed?’

Just as Leopold felt awkward and was about to descend from the tree, the curtains veiling the bedroom suddenly parted.

Zap.

The curtain was pulled aside by Ermedeline, who looked paler than a corpse several days deceased. Leopold worried she might collapse from her weakness, but Ermedeline’s gaze remained as sharp as a honed blade.

Upon making eye contact with Ermedeline, Leopold felt relieved she was safe but simultaneously realized the gravity of being caught secretly peering into her bedroom.

First, he had brandished a dagger at her, and now he was caught spying.

Ermedeline’s already frosty demeanor seemed to freeze the surroundings even more.

‘Ah, I’m definitely going to be marked as a weirdo now.’

Desperate to explain himself, Leopold leaned in and breathed onto the window, thankful for the cold weather that quickly frosted the glass.

With his finger trembling slightly, Leopold wrote on the windowpane:

‘I had no ill intentions.’

He wanted to write more, but fearing the frost might fade, he quickly jotted down the brief message.

Leopold then blew on the window again and added:

‘I was just worried about you.’

However, Ermedeline’s expression showed no sign of believing Leopold’s words.

Her look was full of wariness, akin to a frightened young animal facing a stranger.

Realizing that no amount of written words could dispel the misunderstanding in this situation, Leopold decided to give up for the day and climb down from the tree.

Wobble!

Just then, as he was writing with one hand and holding onto the tree with the other, Leopold’s grip loosened, and his body swayed dramatically.

Yet, using his excellent reflexes and core strength, Leopold managed to regain his balance.

Embarrassed about nearly falling, Leopold sheepishly raised his head to see Ermedeline, whose expression had shifted from frosty to wide-eyed surprise.

Seeing her startled look, Leopold gestured a thumbs-up with one hand while holding onto the tree with the other, as if to reassure her he was alright. Ermedeline, upon seeing this, quickly closed the curtains.

This brief and unusual interaction, filled with misunderstanding and unintended comedy, left a lasting impression on both of them, albeit for very different reasons.