I Possessed The Immoral Empress

Returning to the palace, Ermedeline acted as if nothing had happened. Although there had been significant events at the Grand Temple, they were kept highly secretive, so outwardly, it seemed like uneventful days passed by. However, contrary to appearances, her inner world was crumbling.

“Another one? Hosting such extravagant balls must cost a fortune. With that much money, one would think the Empress might make some donations to her orphanages,” Bellest remarked, sounding displeased, as she clicked her tongue.

“A ball is indeed the best event for nobles to solidify their positions,” Viella replied, checking over the textbook she was in the midst of writing.

Most nobles, especially influential ones residing in the capital, were keeping an eye on Leopold’s recent activities. Understandably so, as he, a powerful contender with royal blood from both his maternal and paternal sides, was hosting lavish social events almost daily in front of the palace.

Although unspoken, everyone knew that his actions were causing a shake-up in Henry’s standing.

*Splatter.*

As Ermedeline was signing related documents, ink splattered from her pen.

She had gripped it too forcefully.

“Your Majesty!”

Quickly approaching, Rooney briskly wiped the splattered ink from Ermedeline’s face.

“It’s also on your clothes. You might need to change?”

Ermedeline glanced down as Rooney spoke.

Though the attire was a deep navy, continuing to wear it would leave a noticeable stain.

“Yes, I should change.”

As Ermedeline excused herself and disappeared into her chambers, a peculiar tension lingered among the maids remaining in the reception room.

No matter how strained their relationship is, Henry is Ermedeline’s husband. With Francoise Duchy completely fallen, Ermedeline’s power solely stems from her husband.

“I spoke without thinking. I didn’t realize it would bother her majesty this much,” Bellest blamed herself, tapping her lips with her finger. Viella, seeing her sister’s expression, raised one corner of her mouth, as if to say, “Now you understand?”

“You also interjected!” Bellest’s voice grew louder at the moment when her sister’s somewhat unyielding expression met Granier Marchioness’s gaze, mediating between the two.

“Let’s refrain from discussing the prince in front of Her Majesty for the time being.”

“The prince?”

As Arvian entered the Empress’s reception room, he inquired, gesturing to Felio, who stood by his side, upon hearing the mention of the prince.

“Tsk tsk. How could that be? How can I not talk about someone I see every day? It’s someone else.”

Bellest, who had been estranged from Arvian for a few days, frowned and reprimanded him.

“Oh, if not Prince Felio, then the one with the red hair?”

“Red hair, you say. Be careful with your words. This is the palace.”

“Anyway, he’s not truly Trivian royalty, is he?”

Arvian, whether aware of his mistake or not, boldly took a seat and began picking up pastries from the table.

“Although he’s from Ballius, he’s still the late Emperor’s son….”

“A son? He’s just a…”

“Please, enough!”

This time, Felio looked around anxiously as he forcefully covered Arvian’s mouth with his hand. He knew there were only palace guards outside the Empress’s reception room, but Arvian’s rash behavior always made him feel uneasy.

“Ugh, what are you doing? Can’t say a word. This darn palace, it’s so suffocating!”

Arvian sighed heavily, uncrossed his legs with a thud, and grabbed a piece of sugary pastry, stuffing it into his mouth.

“It’s really incomprehensible. Why did the High Priest appoint you as the next successor?”

“That’s right. I truly don’t understand either.”

Just as Rooney, who was bringing Ermedeline’s clothes into her bedroom, chimed in to agree with Bellest’s remark.

To think that nuisance has followed even into the palace. However, despite the sharp gazes or words thrown their way, the two women, Arvian simply continued to noisily munch on his pastry.

As she entered her chamber to change clothes, Ermedeline felt a throbbing headache and an ache in her heart. After all, her body was simply a living vessel; leaving the palace would mean the end of her existence. She cared little about who would become the next emperor.

Her immediate plan was to disappear along with Ferdant the moment she left the palace. Therefore, whether Leopold or Henry became the next emperor, it was inconsequential to her. She had no desire to get entangled with anyone.

However, Leopold’s existence was a different kind of burden for Ermedeline. His being emperor and potentially taking Ferdant under his care might actually be a better resolution than her raising Ferdant, despite being her son. 

It would be better for him to be raised by his biological father than by his own mother, who is only his mother in the flesh.

But is it likely that the throne will change hands so easily?

If it became known that Leopold was Ferdant’s father while Henry was still emperor, it would be a real disaster.

Already holding Ferdant hostage, Henry might resort to anything.

Moreover, if it’s revealed that Leopold is actively planning rebellion, it will be absolutely impossible for Ferdinand or even himself to cross the threshold of this palace alive.

‘Ugh, frustrating. Just when I thought I could finally take a breather, my brother shows up, almost gets killed, and even the child long-concealed father makes an appearance. Isn’t this deviating too much from the original story? At this rate, I might not die by execution but by cardiac arrest.’

Even if Felio doesn’t betray as in the original, there are far too many variables leading to his potential demise.

This was just about surviving, yet how tangled the story has become.

Ermond, who fled beyond the borders, and Leopold, who suddenly returned from abroad, are both troublesome figures.

Furthermore, Helen and Heather’s mother is still held captive by Ermond.

“That’s enough! Let’s go back to the reception room now!”

After changing her clothes, Ermedeline turned weakly and headed back to the reception room.

As the door to the reception room opened, two men appeared who hadn’t been there a short while ago.

One man had arrogantly crossed his legs, looking down at Ermedeline, while the other, with a very serious expression, politely bowed towards her.

“Oh, right!”

Upon hearing Felio’s greeting, Arvian quickly realized his mistake and awkwardly stood up, offering a formal bow towards Empress Hyeyoung.

Due to their relaxed interactions when alone, it was rather uncomfortable for them to maintain formality in front of others.

Accepting the two men’s greetings with a queenly grace, Ermedeline took her seat.

“Phew.”

Remarkably, the headache that had been bothering Ermedeline just a while ago vanished all at once.

As Ermedeline bowed her head, she recalled a strand of Felio’s extended hair she had noticed earlier. Though his hair wasn’t typically loose, occasionally, he would let it down like that, and it seemed that today was one of those days.

After letting out a small laugh unnoticed by anyone, Ermedeline regained focus and took up the pen again.

“Shall we start again?”

***

“Insufficient, my apologies.”

A middle-aged man with dark brown hair and hazy gray eyes bowed apologetically in front of Ermond.

“The deserters have already been utilized entirely as materials. Furthermore, there are rumors circulating that crossing the border now leads to disappearances, so there are no longer any soldiers joining us.”

Crash.

The wine glass shattered in Ermond’s hand as he listened to the man’s words, blood dripping from his hand.

His expression was stoic, but he was actually quite nervous.

“You want to use my blood then?”

Ermond asked sarcastically, holding out his blood-soaked palm in the man’s direction, and the man quickly took out a small vial and accepted his blood.

“You shouldn’t spill your precious blood like this.”

“Precious blood, what half-assed blood. If I were Ermedeline, I would have finished this curse a long time ago.”

“A curse of this magnitude would have been too much even for a princess. You’re not just cursing a few people, are you?”

“Haha, yes. It’s a scale that would require the blood of even the most accomplished mage.”

Ermond looked at his palm, which was slowly bleeding, and pondered.

He believed he had succeeded.

This time, he thought for sure he would be able to kill her.

But unexpectedly, the priest and the Duke of Batistian’s son suddenly appeared to assist her.

‘Well, it seems you’ve put some thought into that. Alright then. You wouldn’t just use that money for the people out of pure generosity. Those foolish ones might overlook your true nature, but not me.’

Thinking of the splendid throne he was destined to inherit and the tragic demise of his father, Ermond spoke, reminiscing about his father’s ultimate fate.

“Father’s troops have been disbanded, and Henry’s army isn’t at leisure to manage the entire Brunnian region.”

“Yes, that’s correct. Currently, the Brunnian region suffers from almost absent law enforcement.”

Truly, it couldn’t be a more contradictory situation.

If the Duke of Francoise, who was the witch’s father, had disappeared, things should have improved, yet rather than the duchy disappearing, the Brunnian region without the duchy was gradually descending into hell.

“Capture them.”

“Pardon?”

The man, not understanding Ermond’s words, raised his head in confusion.

“They’re Father’s subjects anyway. It would be an honor if they became materials for his vengeance.”

“Oh, yes. I’ll obey your command.”

Only then did the man understand Ermond’s words and, wearing a somewhat bitter expression, bowed deeply in submission.

‘If what’s mine can’t be yours, then what’s yours can’t be either. Even if I have to completely crush and obliterate it, I’ll make sure it never becomes yours. Everyone will face such a fair and empty end together.’

Ermond licked his yet bleeding hand, displaying a cold smile.

***

Before receiving any guests.

In the lavishly adorned, expansive hall, people dressed in attire far too splendid to be mere servants bustled about, preparing for the upcoming ball.

Expanding influence without drawing suspicion was simple.

Conceal the sharpened blade behind and present only the gleaming gold before them.

That’s why Leopold didn’t bother just with the servants’ clothing but also refrained from planting even a single blade of grass in the garden.

“Meow.”

A large leopard-patterned cat, still regarding himself as a kitten in front of Leopold, emitted a cute purr, rubbing against his legs.

“Meow, meow. Has my little one come?”

At the sound, his sharp, scrutinizing gaze that had been sizing up the nobles he intended to court moments ago, softened in an instant, melting away from his keen face into one of endearment.

To unfamiliar onlookers, this somewhat masculine scene with Leopold might have seemed peculiar, but to the household servants, it was no longer an uncommon sight. Nobody paid much attention.

“Meow!”

Rio, this time, fully opened his eyes and, in a more demanding kitten-like voice, urged Leopold for attention.

Seemingly requesting a pat on the head now that he was by his side.

“Alright, alright. I got it.”

Finally relenting, Leopold stopped his thoughts, plopped down on the floor, and took Rio into his arms, scratching behind his ears and neck with both hands.

Rio nestled closely, forgetting his own size, purring contentedly in Leopold’s embrace.

Despite his magnificent appearance and noble status, coupled with his unyielding business acumen, this was his true self—becoming infinitely gentle and caring in the presence of someone he cherished.

Why, of all people, did Leopold fall in love with the notorious witch, Ermedeline?

Langen, Leopold’s confidant, sighed deeply at his master’s vulnerable state.

What he longed for wasn’t the throne.

It was the ruthless woman known as the witch.

Unlike the straightforward animals that reciprocate love, this was a complex and profound human woman.

Langen sincerely hoped that even after this journey’s end, his master could still wear that bright, unaffected smile.