MTLNOVEL Chapter 12
“That won’t be necessary yet.” I declined immediately. That was a step that required some mental preparation.
“Understood.”
My ears perked up. His voice seemed to carry a faint trace of laughter. But when I looked up at him, his face remained calm and expressionless.
After walking for about ten more minutes, we found an exit. The deep green of the evergreens disappeared, replaced by an endless stretch of white walls before us.
“Is this the boundary of the imperial palace?”
“No. Beyond this wall is still part of the imperial palace.”
The second most closed-off area in the imperial palace, after the underground prison.
“This is the harem. It’s a forbidden area for men, so I can’t give you a tour.”
The harem was a space created by the emperor to house his concubines, whom he had taken by force. It was called a palace for convenience, but in reality, it was little more than a holding facility packed with rooms large and small. There was only one entrance to the harem from the imperial palace. After passing through a long, tunnel-like corridor, one would emerge into a completely different world, unlike the main or secondary palaces.
From what I remember from my childhood, it felt more like an overcrowded residential complex. The buildings, whether single or two-story, were tightly clustered together, and the pathways formed a tangled web. That place was the Emperor’s garden. He would wander through the harem, opening doors as he pleased, picking the flower that suited his mood that day.
“I know it well since I lived there until I was officially appointed as a princess. It’s not as beautiful as people imagine. It may be a paradise for the emperor, but for the women there, it’s hell.”
“Is it really that bad to call it hell?”
“Yes.” I could say so with certainty. “The room assigned to each woman depends on how much favor she receives. Those who satisfy the emperor get well-lit, comfortable rooms. The more they serve him at night, the larger their quarters become—some even get an entire two-story building to themselves. But if they fail to please him or make a mistake, they are forced to live like rats in the basement. Imagine spending most of your life trapped in a dark, windowless cellar. Could you endure it without losing your mind?”
“…”
“Moreover, it’s not just the concubines who live in the harem. There are also maids who serve them, and they are trapped in there too. A maid’s living quarters are directly tied to the status of the concubine she serves. If her mistress is assigned a small room or a basement space, the maid’s quarters are nothing more than a closet.”
“…”
“So, to secure a liveable space, you have no choice but to become a demon. Even if their mistress isn’t interested in the competition, the maids won’t leave things alone. The more rivals they eliminate, the larger their own living spaces become.”
“…”
The harem was not a beautiful palace. It was a wretched prison.
“So many women have died in the power struggles there. Most of the survivors… lost their sanity.”
I looked toward the entrance. Beyond that abyssal tunnel lay the accumulated resentment and despair of thousands of women.
“Sasha.” Regen asked me, “Is your mother still alive in there?”
“Yes.”
“That’s… a relief.”
Well, not really. My mother was probably the most insane person in the entire harem.
I changed the subject. “Do you have any other questions?”
“I heard that most of the emperor’s children die around the age of ten. That was happening even before the ‘prophecy.’ Were they killed in the power struggles?”
I was probably the one who told him that. The thought made my heart race for some reason.
“That’s part of it, but more often than not, the emperor himself killed them.”
“Even before the prophecy was made?”
“Yes.”
“Why would a father kill his own children?”
“Why wouldn’t a father kill his own children?”
“…”
“…”
Our perspectives clashed.
“…My apologies. I forgot we were talking about the mad emperor.”
“My sense of normalcy must be flawed. I’m aware of that.”
I ran my hand along the white wall as I walked. His shadow, cast by the setting sun, fell in front of me.
“Do you really want to know why he killed his children? From your perspective, it’s bound to sound incomprehensible.”
“I want to know more about you, Sasha.”
He wanted to know about me.
I spun around sharply to face him. “Let’s play a little game, Sir Regen. There are eight princesses in the Magnarod Imperial Family, including myself. How do you think we managed to survive without being killed?”
“…”
Of course, no rational person could guess the answer…
“The answer is because we were pretty.”
I saw shock and disbelief flash through his golden eyes.
“…Pardon?”
He must have wanted to ask if I was joking. I wished it were just a crude joke. For some reason, I suddenly felt like laughing. But no laughter came.
“All the ugly children were killed. One prince was executed simply because his face wasn’t symmetrical. Another princess was put to death because she got a scar on her face.”
“…”
“The princesses, myself included, are nothing more than the emperor’s prized possessions. If our beauty is damaged, we are discarded.”
Maybe it was because I had dredged up such painful memories, but a bit of sadism stirred within me. I stepped in closer, rising onto my toes to meet his gaze.
“So, what do you think? Am I pretty?”
“…”
His eyes wavered violently as I invaded his field of vision. The way the light flickered in his golden irises reminded me of a fish gliding through water—strangely beautiful.
“Judging by how you can’t answer right away, I must be not that pretty. I guess I won’t live very long.”
Feigning disappointment, I lowered my heels. I was about to step back when a large hand rested on my head. The careful, gentle touch as he stroked my hair comforted me.
“You’ve endured a lot, Sasha.”
“…”
This wasn’t fair. I was the same as I had been when I was a child. Still completely defenseless against this, I froze, like something inside me had broken. It had taken nine years to receive what I had once wished for just one more time.
Regen looked at me. “Do you not like this?”
“No. It’s just… my older brother… used to do this often too…”
Even upon second thought, I felt I had come up with an excellent excuse. But all things must come to an end. His hand withdrew. It was disappointing, but as a princess, I had too much dignity to ask for more. Still, I wanted to repay him for his kindness.
“Sir Regen.”
“Yes, Sasha?”
“I think we’ve grown close enough.”
His eyes glowed. After all, it was a condition for fixing his mana core.
I leaned in and whispered to him, “Come to my chambers tonight.”
✦
The authority of dominion passed down in the Magnarod Imperial Family is classified into five levels:
Level 1: Charm. Through prolonged eye contact, the wielder can inspire admiration, awe, or affection in others. It temporarily enhances their charisma.
Level 2: Control. The wielder can issue an order that forces the target to halt all actions and show deference. However, this effect is only temporary.
Level 3: Imprint. The core of dominion authority. This level allows the wielder to have a knight who is absolutely loyal to them. Most imperials can wield this power up to this level without difficulty.
Level 4: Enhancement. The essence of imperial authority begins here. The wielder can enhance the mana of their subordinate knights. Many knights pledge loyalty to the emperor for this ability.
Level 5: Restoration. A level achieved only by the current emperor, who is revered as a god. It allows the wielder to restore and heal mana cores, akin to bringing the dead back to life.
In history, only the mad emperor has ever reached the fifth level—officially, at least.
The princess doesn’t seem like someone who would lie. Even so, Regen couldn’t help but be skeptical. He wasn’t even sure if mana core restoration was truly possible.
I’ll find out soon enough. Everything would become clear when he visited the princess’s chambers tonight.
…Except, there was an unexpected obstacle.
“We must ensure that nothing is lacking in serving Her Highness. Let’s prepare thoroughly.”
As soon as the winter sun dipped below the horizon, an uninvited guest barged into his quarters. It was Demia, the bold maid with short, chocolate-brown hair. Demia urged him, saying she had prepared the bathwater. Whatever kind of bathwater she had prepared, a sweet fragrance wafted from her hands, and colorful flower petals clung to her apron.