Argider couldn't believe it. Then again, perhaps she could. Palace life was nothing if not a circus of betrayals, intrigue, and poorly concealed ambitions.
Everyone played their own ga, and though she had long since resigned herself to its absurdities, this particular revelation still managed to sting—just a little.
Then ca the thought, reckless and oddly liberating: if the ga was rigged, why not rewrite the rules entirely?
Sword training would continue as usual for days, of course. It always did. The clash of blades was as much a ritual as a necessity in courtly life, and Argider had no intention of giving it up. But today, her focus wandered.
Each parry ca a fraction too late, each strike lacked its usual precision. Across from her, Uzak noticed.
For all his bluster and simplicity, even he could see that sothing was off.
"Watch out!" he called, grinning as he lunged.
His sword flashed forward, quick as a whip, and before Argider could react, hers went clattering across the stone courtyard. The sound echoed like a gong, cutting through the crisp morning air.
She blinked, montarily stunned, then straightened herself with a sharp cough, as if she could will her dignity back into place.
"Is your broken arm still bothering you?" Uzak asked, sheathing his sword. There was a trace of genuine concern in his voice, though it was buried beneath his usual bravado.
"No," Argider replied curtly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Not really."
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing as he studied her. Uzak was no courtier; the subtleties of palace life often eluded him.
But even he could sense when the Emperor was acting... strangely. And today, Argider was practically radiating strangeness.
"Well," he ventured hesitantly, "is sothing wrong?"
"You could've told ," she said suddenly, her tone cool but layered with sothing deeper, sothing harder to define.
"Told you what?"
Instead of answering, Argider stepped forward. Before Uzak could react, she reached out, clasping his hands in hers. He froze, his mind scrambling to make sense of the mont.
What was this? A confession? A revelation? Had the Emperor finally embraced her womanhood? Panic darkened his expression as possibilities swirled in his head, each more baffling than the last.
"I…" Uzak stamred, his voice faltering. "Your Imperial Majesty, you're still my best fri—"
"You could've told you were fucking my wife."
The words hit like a thunderclap. Uzak's mouth opened, but no sound ca out. His face drained of color as guilt swept over him, heavy and suffocating.
"I an," Argider continued, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather, "I thought we were best buddies. You could've told anything."
Uzak's mind reeled, grasping for words, for excuses, for anything. "H-How…?" he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Oh, don't look so shocked." Argider waved a hand dismissively, as though this was a minor inconvenience rather than an earth-shattering accusation. "I'm not angry. Honestly, I'm not even that surprised. Betrayed, sure. But furious? Not really. Let's face it—I'm hardly a model of marital fidelity myself."
Her bluntness was a blade of its own, cutting through the tension with a sharp, almost cruel precision. Uzak felt it lodge deep in his chest, leaving him raw and exposed.
"I swear… I didn't an—" His voice cracked, trembling with a mix of sha and desperation.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Argider interrupted, laughing sharply. "In fact, I insist you continue seducing my wife."
The courtyard fell silent, the air heavy with disbelief. Uzak stared at her, his mind spinning in chaotic circles.
And then Argider smiled—a sharp, knowing smile that sent a chill down his spine. In that mont, Uzak realized the truth, as absurd and terrifying as it was: the ga wasn't over. No, everything was just getting started.
"But why?" Uzak demanded, pulling his hands away as if distance could sohow untangle the ss between them. His eyes searched Argider's face, desperate for answers.
Argider exhaled sharply, her frustration spilling over like a toppled cup. "It's been difficult, all right? She just... she keeps asking for it!"
Uzak crossed his arms, his expression darkening. "And that's exactly why she ca to in the first place. She knew I cared for her. She used that. I felt for her, but in the end, I realized she wasn't much different from you—or any of the other nobles, for that matter. If she's no longer leaning on , then it ans you're finally fulfilling your duties. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"E-Exactly! B-But—!" Argider stamred, frustration twisting her voice as her hands flew to her hair. The situation was maddening. Explore more stories with empire
She had to do this—for the Redemption System, for her progress. But the relentless dominance of the Empress was taking its toll, leaving her body aching and her spirit bruised.
"Look," Uzak said, his voice softening slightly as he took a step closer. "My advice? Pay attention to the Empress. I thought you were finally taking your duties seriously. But if you're letting soone else take her away, doesn't that an you're failing?"
Ah. That struck a nerve. He wasn't wrong. If she allowed this to spiral further, everything she'd worked for—every carefully laid plan—would crumble into nothing.
Worse still, her EXP would drain, leaving her progress in ruins. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't.
"Fine," she muttered, shoulders stiffening. "What's your other advice?"
Uzak tilted his head, studying her with the detached air of a tactician examining a battlefield. "What's troubling you most, Your Imperial Majesty?"
Argider sighed, her voice dropping into a rare note of vulnerability. "First of all, she keeps treating like a toy. Not that I... don't enjoy it, but my body's bruised. And second, she clearly doesn't respect ."
Uzak cupped his chin, thoughtful. "The Empress doesn't love anything. She sees the world as a collection of objects to be used for her own ends."
Argider frowned. "So what's your advice?"
"Make her love you."
She blinked. It was such a preposterous suggestion that for a mont, she thought he must be joking. "That doesn't even make sense. You just said she's incapable of love."
"She doesn't love people," Uzak clarified. "But she does love one thing."
Argider hesitated, her curiosity warring with her irritation. "And what's that?"
"Power."
The word lingered in the air like a challenge, sharp and undeniable. It was maddeningly simple, yet so painfully true. Argider's lips pressed into a thin line. The ga hadn't just changed—it had grown more dangerous.
But then again, danger was the currency of imperial life, and she was nothing if not a gambler.
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