I Possessed The Immoral Empress

“Find them.”

“Yes.”

“Bring them before me, alive if they are indeed the culprit, regardless of evidence.”

“Yes.”

Leopold was well aware that Ermedeline had been subjected to numerous assassination attempts due to being treated as a witch.

Indeed, there had been assassination attempts even after he had returned to Trivian.

Yet, witnessing such a scene firsthand, especially in its most gruesome form, was a first for him.

Leopold wanted to rush to Ermedeline’s side immediately, but what she needed now was not a lover, but a priestess.

It was only after hearing the late-arriving female priestess that color returned to Leopold’s pale face.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Staying any longer felt like he might never be able to leave her side, so Leopold forced his reluctant steps to move.

With each step, his already heavy footsteps felt increasingly leaden.

Why did he leave?

Was it just because of a few harsh words that he left her alone in this hell?

Even when she was carrying his child?

If he could, Leopold wished he could slap his younger self from seven years ago.

He felt so pitiful that he wanted to scream right there and then, but drawing attention to himself here might put her in more danger, so he had to leave the scene with a face feigning slight shock.

Langen, following Leopold, had no real concern for the witch’s well-being.

Even if she had been his master’s lover, her dark history couldn’t just be erased.

His ultimate goal was simply to secure the throne rightfully belonging to his master and to reclaim his master’s lineage.

If saving the witch was part of that process, so be it; if not, he hoped his master would overcome it.

But what was this?

An orphanage completion ceremony, a public event with young children and numerous onlookers.

Was someone really trying to burn a person alive in front of all these people, without any legal proceedings?

Leopold’s steps, heavy with the weight of the situation, seemed to bleed with every movement, as vivid as his bright hair.

Langen felt almost suffocated by the blood shed by his master.

Still, Langen felt no pity or sympathy for the witch.

In a place where people unflinchingly kill each other, who could distinguish between a witch and a saint?

It was simply hell.

Power struggles are common even in the great empire of Ballius, but murdering siblings and treating rivals like animals were not.

Even after the death of the previous emperor and the end of the bastard wars, the splendid capital of Trivian remained a hell.

‘This hell needs a new master.’

It’s clear. This hell on earth, filled with the stench of blood, needs a new master worthy of ruling it. A place too vile and foul to embrace its master, but Langen was convinced that no one but his master could transform this hell back into a land fit for humans.

Langen was originally a bodyguard for Princess Innian of Ballius, trained from a young age as a professional assassin to protect his master.

He trusted his assassin’s instincts to follow and unmask the entity behind the evil intent to kill, something that shouldn’t exist in the new empire his master would build.

As evening fell, Felio regained consciousness.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the palace.”

Arvian, lying beside him with a feverish look, responded with a harsh tone.

“I see.”

Felio replied hoarsely, accepting Arvian’s explanation.

“We’re both witnesses in the ongoing investigation. That’s why we’re here in the palace.”

“I see.”

Suddenly, Arvian, who had been lying down, jumped up and grabbed Felio by the collar.

“You were confident. You said you could handle that magic!”

Felio remained silent, not reacting to Arvian’s accusation.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Are you in league with those bastards who tried to kill Ermedeline?”

Arvian screamed, calling Ermedeline by her name instead of her title, but Felio hadn’t noticed that fact.

In the grip of guilt for his failed plan, Felio tolerated Arvian’s grip, but he couldn’t stand being accused of conspiring with those who attempted Ermedeline’s life.

Felio attempted to kick with all his might, but Arvian easily dodged it.

“You’re not yourself yet. You almost died too! If Priestess Louise hadn’t arrived just in time, you’d be dead! You clumsy assassin!”

Now openly calling him an assassin, Felio wanted to punch Arvian, but the realization that he had nearly died made him unable to move properly.

“You lost too much blood. It will take some time to recover.”

Seeing Felio unable to stand, Arvian felt his anger dissipate and slumped back onto his bed.

Arvian knew well that Felio couldn’t possibly be in league with the perpetrator.

Even without using his ability to see souls, it was easy to see that Felio was desperate to die for Ermedeline.

Moreover, though he hated to admit it, Ermedeline trusted and relied on Felio the most. If there had been any genuine intent to kill, there were many opportunities to do so more directly and without leaving evidence.

But Arvian was furious. He had cooperated with the plan to act as bait and catch Ermond, only for it to end like this.

If he hadn’t been there, Ermedeline would have died.

Just thinking of Ermedeline struggling on the brink of death made Arvian wish he could kill Felio on the spot.

Arvian could only tolerate not strangling Felio in his unconscious state because he knew, more than anyone, that Felio himself wanted to die the most.

“Damn it. Are you alright now?”

After struggling a few times, Felio gave up on trying to get up and laid back down, covering his eyes with one arm. Tears streamed endlessly down his lean cheeks.

“She hasn’t regained consciousness yet. But her life isn’t in danger. Louise and I are checking on her regularly, so don’t worry.”

“Shit…”

Felio murmured a curse, tears uncontrollably flowing down the side of his face, quickly staining the white pillowcase to a deep grey.

‘Really, damn it! I’m the one who wants to cry!’

Felio grappled with the realization of his feelings for Ermedeline at the moment of her near loss, and the heartbreak that followed. Ermedeline had smiled at him, even as her life flickered away, impossible though it seemed for her to make any expression given the severity of her burns.

‘Damn!’

Unable to vent his frustration outwardly like Felio, Arvian tousled his hair in agitation, sighing heavily.

“Can I see her?”

“No. Only Louise, the maids, and I can enter her room. The guards are keeping watch outside. Even you can’t visit until the investigation is over, as we’re both witnesses.”

Witnesses? More like the son of an assassin, in truth.

Felio silently acknowledged that he deserved whatever happened, sealing his lips. No investigation would find any evidence.

He knew his father best. His father was not one to leave traces behind.

The real oversight was his own. Why was he so sure the magic circle was meant for a curse? Why did he assume Ermond was the only one wanting Ermedeline dead?

Felio didn’t plan to expose his father as the perpetrator. Without evidence or witnesses, how could he assign guilt?

A public trial would likely just confirm his father’s innocence due to the principle of double jeopardy.

The real criminal was himself, unable to protect her fully. He intended to pay for his failure by punishing his father.

But it was a vague idea. After all, his father was his only kin.

What kind of punishment was he thinking of? He’d willingly die for Ermedeline multiple times, but to kill someone for her?

Even his father? 

Though he felt capable of it in his current state, if Ermedeline ever found out, he’d likely never be by her side again, forever.

Suddenly, something crossed Felio’s mind. A small box he had once seen in his father’s study.

That thing, securely hidden away without ever being opened, suddenly became urgent in Felio’s mind. He felt a pressing need to obtain something, anything, that could lead to his father’s downfall.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but stop it. You shouldn’t become like that,” Arvian suddenly spoke, easily restraining Felio’s struggling arm with one hand.

“You, at least you shouldn’t change in this hellish place. At least not you.”

Arvian could see Felio’s soul, once blazing with a dazzling blue light, gradually darken to black.

Although Arvian had no desire to help his rival, he knew Ermedeline didn’t wish to protect a Felio tainted with evil.

He merely hoped that at least one person in this world could remain true to their essence, shining beside that unfortunate woman.

***

Seeing Ermedeline charred black, Henry was momentarily terrified.

Her blackened body seemed to reflect the soul of Ermedeline, corrupted because of him.

Having just witnessed Valliere become a witch before his very eyes, Henry was horrified at the thought of both his women, inside and out, becoming pitch-black witches.

No, he was terrified because he knew that black, dreadful state mirrored the condition of his own soul.

The sight of Ermedeline, burned and lying in a heap, felt like a stark revelation of his true self, causing an immense wave of horror.

Henry knew well.

Beneath the barely maintained guise of an emperor, he was no different from the witches he had created – a demon, just a layer away from being revealed.

And once the two witches that made him appear sane were gone, he would be next.

As soon as Priestess Louise announced that Ermedeline was safe, Henry fled the scene as if running for his life.

He couldn’t bear to look any longer at the woman writhing like a beast, her dreadful state too reminiscent of what he feared he would become.

He had made too many enemies during the bastard wars.

So far, their hatred had been directed at Ermedeline, but what next?

After the witch was vanquished?

Inside the carriage returning to the palace, Henry sat huddled on the floor, shivering and biting his nails.

A habit he thought had disappeared since his early childhood reemerged, a testament to the purity and truth of his fear.

The servants in the carriage assumed the emperor was merely shocked by his wife’s terrible state and speculated on their own about who the assassin trying to exterminate the witch might be.