These details accumulate together to form a kind of stubborn thoroughness—as if the Empress is silently declaring: even if the world collapses, she still insists on squeezing these trivial concerns into every crevice.

All this was just like back then, when her parents passed away due to an alchemy experiment, leaving her the only member of the family, Aunt Annie burst into her life as an old friend of her mother.

Back then, Annie was still the Eldest Princess of the Royal Family, yet she would always rush to Brandelis Manor after military meetings, just to care for Perfikot who had lost her parents.

She attempted to adopt Perfikot in the name of the Royal Family, solely to properly care for the child who had just lost all relatives.

However, Perfikot at the time rejected the concern from everyone around her, like a wounded young beast, she isolated herself within Brandelis Manor.

Except for the old butler Foster, she even dismissed all servants, letting the vast manor fall silent in the wind and snow.

Once, Annie delivered newly tailored winter clothes, which Perfikot returned the next day, with childish handwriting stating, "I don't need charity."

Yet this could not stop Empress Annie's concern for her. The Eldest Princess, who was busy quelling the Desert Kingdom rebellion, would write to Perfikot under a flickering kerosene lamp in the military tent.

One letter a week, each filled with care and greetings for Perfikot.

However, Perfikot at the time maintained a polite distance, not wanting to accept the concern from Empress Annie.

But in reality, had it not been for Empress Annie's secret protection, Perfikot, just a minor orphan girl, could not have defended the Brandlis Clan's title and estate.

Those covetous distant relatives would not know that each of their inheritance claims submitted to the council eventually appeared on Annie's desk; nor would they understand why tax officers suddenly began scrutinizing their properties.

Like invisible warmth in winter nights, Annie's protection flowed silently.

Perfikot only later realized, although she sought shelter from a certain Duke, this Duke did indeed offer her protection.

But upon reflection, while other noble maidens' fathers and brothers needed introductions to obtain opportunities for audiences, why could she meet the Duke so effortlessly and receive his protection?

Merely because of the gift Perfikot presented? No, no, with her status at that time, she couldn't even secure an invitation to the Duke's banquet.

The timing of that gilt invitation was too coincidental, arriving just when she faced difficulties from the Noble Council and urgently needed help.

Yet, she appeared at the Duke's banquet representing the Brandlis Clan, merely as the daughter of a Baron, without encountering any trouble and successfully delivered her gift.

At the banquet, the noble ladies whispered, not understanding why the Duke would specifically pause for this ordinary Baron's orphaned daughter.

When Perfikot confidently presented her Alchemy Puppet to the Duke, she did not see Annie gently nodding to the Duchess from the corridor on the second floor.

It could not be said that Annie the Empress had no influence in this, Perfikot could never believe it.

When she stood in the former Empress's private library, her fingers brushed over those long-sealed documents, the truth finally became clear—the yellowed royal family confidential notes, private diaries, even certain council proposals deliberately suppressed, all recorded Annie's silent guardianship over the years.

In reality, each of her self-assumed "independence," each "accidental" stroke of luck, had Annie's shadow behind them.

This was how Perfikot understood, why at her most isolated and helpless moments, certain nobles coveting the Brandelis estate would suddenly fall from grace due to scandals.

Why when she first attended social events in the name of the family, those nobles known for giving newcomers a hard time were especially courteous to her.

Or even why at twelve, when she attempted to sell the family's books to make ends meet, a "scholar passing by" would buy them at a price far above market value...

All these fragments pieced together allowed Perfikot to finally see clearly—the one she had always tried to push away, had long built an invisible fortress defending her from the world in the most inconspicuous manner.

Therefore, when the former Empress passed away, and the Empire fell into a power vacuum, Perfikot made a choice without hesitation.

She had the capability to assume the supreme position herself—with her intellect, means, and her identity as the Lord of the North, along with the political legacy Prince Edward left behind, she could easily quell all opposition.

But she did not.

Instead, she pushed Annie onto the throne and carefully fortified her imperial power step by step.

She used her political influence to stabilize the restless opposition, skillfully maneuvering amidst the council's undercurrents.

The nobles who initially threatened royal power were surprised to discover their most reliable supporters had suddenly changed positions—those individuals were either coerced or incentivized by Perfikot to remain in their council seats, ensuring they would not publicly oppose the Royal Family.

At the same time, her carefully selected moderate legislators were placed in key positions, serving as a buffer, dissolving potential tides that might impact the throne in unseen ways.

She wielded an iron fist while purging the pests among the nobles without hesitation.

Back then, the Royalist Party attempted to overturn her reforms and control over the nation, sought to bring Empress Annie into a duel against her, even using the former Empress's severe illness as an excuse to launch a military coup.

Perfikot countered, dispatching Steam Knights to conduct a bloody purge of all dissenters.

These purges not only deterred the petty rebels but also cleared obstacles for Empress Annie's accession to the throne.

After all, had Empress Annie truly been elevated to the throne by the Royalist Party, she inevitably would become a puppet stripped of power.

Perfikot's meticulous design behind all these actions was to create momentum for Empress Annie's accession.

Perfikot herself had no interest in the supreme position, yet everything she did was, in essence, repaying that Aunt Annie who brought her a heater during a snowy night, the Royal Family Eldest Princess who watched over her day and night while ill, the family member who silently protected her for years without letting her know?

For this reason, she even abandoned her original plan with Kallen and the Workers' Federation to overturn the entire Empire's feudal rule.

Those revolutionary seeds plotted in factory shadows were snuffed out by her own hands.

Instead, representatives of the workers entered the council, allowing their demands to be realized through political maneuvers.

Because she knew, if a wave of revolution truly surged, the first to be harmed would undoubtedly be Empress Annie—that person she could not bear to see toppled from the throne.

As she closed her eyes, images of Annie being dragged off the throne by angry crowds appeared in her mind—the eyes that always gently watched her now stained with despair—she couldn't bring herself to launch revolutionary riots.

"Constitutional monarchy isn't that bad, is it?" Perfikot persuaded herself with this justification, even though she knew it wasn't a solution to the problem.

Although she knew better than anyone the feudal dynasty ultimately oppressed the people, if she were the one on that seat, she wouldn't mind being overthrown, and would even be willing to become a martyr for the new age.

She had envisioned being sent to the guillotine, could even feel the cold blade imagined on her neck—such an ending, to her, had a sort of martyr-like romance.

Yet when all this involved a family member she couldn't ignore, Perfikot found she couldn't harden her heart.

The orphan girl who once stubbornly rejected all concern, now cautiously protects another in the vortex of politics.

Perhaps it was destiny's irony—the most radical reformer ultimately became the staunchest guardian of the old regime, solely because that crown sat on the head of someone she cared about.