The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 88

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 88
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“But I have to ask one thing. Why is the captain of the imperial guard the King of Makluksa?”
“I would recommend you discover that for yourself.”
The Emperor tilted his glass with a soft clink, then narrowed his eyes.
“Your Majesty, a murderer’s child has been born. Is this child a criminal, or not?”
“……Are you suddenly wanting to debate Guilt by Association with me?”
“Then…… are the children of a king, born against their will, criminals or not?”
He was no fool. It was not difficult to grasp what Rozelin meant to say.
‘The children of a king…….’
The previous Emperor had favored women. Beyond his Empress, he had kept several concubines.
None of them remained in the Imperial Capital now. He had disposed of them all on his ascent to the throne.
Those who could be sent away were sent away; those who resisted all met their ends in what were deemed unfortunate accidents.
Several of his own siblings from childhood had died the same way—unfortunate accidents.
Yet considering the late Emperor’s predilection for women, it was almost amusing that he had fathered so few children.
‘……I knew half-siblings existed.’
But they had drawn no attention, so he had given them no thought.
The late Emperor, despite his flamboyant affairs, had been a man who treasured the empire and concerned himself with its welfare.
Naturally, after Sébirus was named Crown Prince, the Emperor had ceased caring what he did.
Whether other siblings met with accidents, whether he tidied up his surroundings—none of it mattered.
The late Emperor had indulged in women, but he was no fool.
He was neither a good father nor a good husband, but he had been a capable Emperor.
Just as he had come to love one woman, the late Emperor had loved only the empire entrusted to him.
Therefore, he had not wished for petty, pointless squabbles to plague the Imperial Capital.
Every illegitimate child had been quietly disposed of before they could come to his notice—that was all.
“So there’s one still alive.”
The Emperor found it striking enough that he sprawled across the sofa like a wastrel, wordlessly tilting his glass.
One would never guess this was the supreme ruler of an empire.
‘An illegitimate child…… it’s a troublesome affair.’
Unfortunately, the current empire possessed no laws to protect such children.
Rozelin was right.
They existed yet should not exist, drew breath yet could not step into the sunlight, and by the mere fact of their birth were condemned to live as criminals all their lives.
There was no written rule demanding this—it was simply the world’s prejudice.
‘To think of staging a rebellion like this.’
And to have held one’s breath so long without the Emperor himself noticing.
‘It’s been about thirty years since I placed the captain in that position……?’
He had been the Emperor’s right hand all those years.
Or so the Emperor had believed.
The Emperor was dropping fresh ice into his emptied glass and pouring whiskey when he sensed a presence at the door.
At the sound of someone approaching, the Emperor’s lips curled into a faint smile, and he finished drinking before so much as glancing toward the entrance.
Without a proper knock, the door opened silently, and the Emperor spoke without turning to look.
“A lifetime spent in the same Imperial Capital and we rarely see each other’s faces, yet lately you’ve grown so light on your feet you visit quite often, youngest.”
Arma said nothing in response to the Emperor’s banter.
He strode in wordlessly and gazed down at his father, then sat across from him on the opposite sofa, placing the wine he’d been holding onto the table with a soft thud.
It was a twenty-year-old Bloody Wine from the Roti Kingdom—rare and difficult to procure.
That particular year had enjoyed abundant sunlight, which gave the Roti Kingdom’s “Bloody Grapes” exceptional sweetness, resulting in wine of exceptional quality.
So renowned was that vintage that bottles still in circulation now were uncommon.
The Emperor watched his youngest do something quite endearing and narrowed his eyes with a soft laugh.
“What is it this time—another request?”
“There’s something I wish to have, but it seems it won’t come into my hands through ordinary means.”
The boy, who had long since shed the mannerisms of youth, poured wine into his crystal glass as he spoke.
…….
The Emperor, eyes narrowed, rubbed his jaw.
‘Right now, the Bellion ducal house has sent everyone back to their territory except the eldest and second sons.’
And he had already received word that Rozelin Bellion was among those who departed.
The Emperor drank in silence, then flicked a finger.
Ice from the basket rose gently into the air, floating weightless.
“Catch it without letting her notice…….”
As he closed his hand over the empty space, the ice shattered in an instant, transforming into a beautiful single rose.
“Hold it tight in your grasp.”
The Emperor had conjured an ice rose and set it before Arma’s table.
Arma gazed at the ice rose in silence.
Watching the flower begin its slow melt, he lifted his head.
“Are you saying you confined my mother the way you did, Father?”
……
At Arma’s words, the Emperor’s eyes narrowed.
Observing his son—who had abandoned the usual stammering performance—the Emperor gave a light shrug.
“The phrasing troubles me somewhat, but yes.”
The Emperor made no effort to conceal it, speaking freely.
“That cannot be.”
……?
“I cannot use your methods, Father.”
Arma spoke with quiet resolve.
“Cannot?”
“If I employ the same methods you did, I will fail.”
……What are you saying.
Arma had seen in his dreams what would have become of this world without Rozelin.
He would have been broken, and his father would have died alone at last.
And his mother, trapped in this man’s gilded cage—his mother, who after decades of confinement had been tamed and molded—would have perished not long after her captor’s hand grew still.
Arma’s fists clenched.
He despised everything born and raised in this nation.
He had striven to despise it, to give it no affection.
For this nation was both the world his father held beneath his feet and, at the same time, nothing less than a garden his father had personally cultivated to imprison his mother.
In one sense, this nation was a living hell of his making.
After a brief silence, Arma spoke slowly.
“I… I despise you.”
At the words of a youth barely twenty, the Emperor arched an eyebrow and chuckled.
“A son declares to his father’s face that he hates him? Well, that takes some nerve.”
“It is no jest. I truly despise you.”
The man who had been sprawling indolently now drank from his cup without a word, then tilted his head in acknowledgment.
“I know. It is rather a stale grievance you air.”
The Emperor had turned even his own son away for the sake of his companion’s safety.
He had harbored no expectation of a warm father-and-son bond, so he held no lingering regret about that fact.
“I despise everything your hand has touched.”
“After relationship counseling comes a confession? Your timing is poor. My head aches enough as it is, so spare me the complaints. We can revisit this another time…….”
“When I was small, I longed for my mother. She believes me dead, does she not? Because you would have told her so. And so I resent you.”
The Emperor showed some displeasure at finding his own words entirely ignored.
He lifted his head with an expression of bewilderment—why was the boy acting this way today?—only to find the youthful face now twisted with anger, fists clenched as he stared at him.
“There was a time I wished this nation would vanish, and later I resolved to abandon it and flee.”
The Emperor did, after all, hold his children dear in his own way.
Should the Crown Prince appointed from among them ever attempt to murder the other two, he possessed enough affection to prevent it and give him a gentle rebuke.
Fortune or misfortune—the two children born of the same mother got on quite well.
Only this one drifted apart from them.
Yet they did not seek to kill one another.
Considering the thoroughly muddled imperial genealogy, the Emperor was blessed with exceptionally fine children.
“There was a time……?”
“I tried so hard not to let my heart attach to anything born and raised in this nation…….”
A sound—*crack*—as his fist clenched, veins rising prominently across the back of his hand.
The Emperor, who had been half-reclined on the sofa, now straightened, draping his arm over the backrest as he watched Arma intently.
“……Yet I came to care for someone born and raised in this nation.”
……
“Father.”
The Emperor did not respond.
Arma slowly lifted his head to meet his gaze.
“How does one become Emperor? I wish to become Emperor.”
The youth shed his boyish mask, grinding his teeth with grim determination as he spoke.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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