A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 259: Dance with Empress (2)

The outer world—a place beyond the system’s reach—where the sky bled red as blood and as dark as the deepest night, life curled and withered, its forms breaking, and spirits—ghosts without shape—wandered through the void, in the realm of the dead.

“There was such a place in the Imperial Palace,” I said.

It was an event not written into the scenario.

"What of it? A door to the afterlife would surely be a place of great significance. Naturally, it belongs in the Imperial Palace," Sophien replied with a low chuckle.

“Is that so?”

"Indeed. So be sure to be careful. Ghosts, like people, are all different—but they are beings made of every emotion."

I watched the teacup in silence as the black tea inside, half-full, began to swell.

Glug—

And then it spilled, crimson and warm, overflowing the rim of the cup, with a metallic tang rising into the air—it was blood.

“Hmph, let’s head in. It looks like the ones here aren’t too pleased with us,” Sophien said.

At Sophien’s words, I nodded, pushed away from the balcony, and stepped back into the room.

“Professor,” Sophien said, seated at the edge of the bed. “I have come here to find a soul.”

A faint crease formed between my brows.

It wasn’t a demon, but even a ghost, or something close enough—a presence that stirred in me an aversion as deep and instinctive as breath.

“A soul, Your Majesty?”

“Indeed. There’s a book in the Empress’s library that tells the legend of this old mansion. They say it opens only once every six years—more precisely, every six years, six months, and six days.”

Even here, the number 666 carried the same ominous weight as it did in the modern world.

"It opens but once in those long years; wouldn’t it be a waste to walk away with nothing?"

However, the number itself didn’t really bother me.

“Do you still hold that book, Your Majesty?” I asked.

All I wanted was a book in my hands.

“Haha, I knew you’d say that, Professor,” Sophien said with a chuckle, then proudly held up a book titled Records of the Imperial Palace, steeped in mana, visible even to Sharp Eyesight.

“But before that, answer me.”

“What soul do you wish to find, Your Majesty?” I asked, looking toward the Empress.

I had a vague sense that it was Sophien’s mother—the one the world believed Rohakan had killed.

"The soul of a person—and a memory etched in my mind," Sophien replied, tapping her temple. "A ghost that may or may not be here, but you'll recognize it the moment you see it."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I replied, nodding. "Your Majesty's request is my duty."

"... Hmph. A request, you say? I never made such a request."

"Was it not, Your Majesty?" I asked, raising my eyes to meet hers.

“... Tch.”

A request, though simple in name, became something else entirely when spoken by the Empress—a word bound more strongly than the laws of the Empire.

Also, Sophien kept every word she spoke—and she knew that truth as well as anyone, which meant that a request from her was never just a request, but a statement, a political declaration wrapped in words.

“Damn you, Professor.”

I will swear my loyalty—but never to be swayed by the Empress. I will be the sharpest blade, but never let my worth be burned as kindling. I will not become a flatterer, parroting righteousness to curry favor. A true subject is one who is trusted, yet difficult to command. And so, I will demand justification from Sophien—and I will remain true to my own principle, I thought.

"Fine. A request. A request, then. I, the Empress, request this of you. Are you satisfied now?" the Empress said, her face twisting as she handed me the book.

In response, I extended the Blue Eyes Remake to Sophien.

"... Professor, they say that every action you make is political," Sophien said, letting out a dry laugh, her face tired.

“Is that so?”

"So, it's certain, then," the Empress said. "You mean to repay my request with this novel of yours?"

"No, Your Majesty. Why don’t you read it? The story has changed more than you might expect."

The revised novel by Sylvia, born of what she had realized on the island, felt clearer—deeper maturity in every word.

"... Fine, I’ll read it. Now—step away. Even your face breeds ennui with too much time..." Sophien said, waving her hand in dismissal.

***

The next day, Sophien gathered everyone in the grand hall of the old mansion, which was originally a place where the Empress and her vassals discussed the affairs of state. The grand hall here had been recreated with such precision that it felt no different from the one in the Imperial Palace.

"I trust you all made it through the night," Sophien said. "I won't tolerate weakness, not even after one week of the eight has passed."

Not only the fifty-eight event participants, but even the vassals from the Imperial Palace seemed to have gathered here on this safe morning. Now, nearly two hundred people filled the grand hall of the old mansion. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Of course, she probably couldn't abandon the affairs of state for all eight weeks straight just because of one event, Epherene thought.

"By completing nearly eight weeks of state affairs beforehand, I’ve spared us the need for empty debates here."

“Phew,” Epherene murmured, half to herself.

"However, a special petition has reached me. One among you dared to request a hearing—before me, the Empress."

At the words special petition, Epherene’s face stiffened—and so did the entire grand hall. For a moment, even the Empress’s presence was forgotten as murmurs rippled through the air.

"This special petition names no one, but only a crime," Sophien said, her chin resting on her hand as she sat on the throne. "I presume they intend to reveal the guilty at the hearing. There are many charges, but three stand above the rest. First—instigated murder."

Without realizing it, Epherene searched for Deculein—and there he was, standing closest to the Empress.

"Next—murder. And..." Sophien continued, her eyes sweeping across the people, a faint smile curling her lips. "Attempted poisoning of the Empress."

At that moment, the silence was complete, and even the air seemed to hold its breath, as if the world itself had come to a stop.

"... Hmm. Given that it's in the past, it should read—attempted poisoning of the Princess. Either way."

Snap—!

At the snap of the Empress’s fingers, her vassals stepped forward, carrying a grand parchment.

"This bulletin board will be posted in the central square of the old mansion. Let those who wish to participate in the special petition write their names on it."

At that moment, Deculein turned his head to somewhere distant, and Epherene followed—and there stood Yulie, the knight in pure white, meeting Deculein’s eyes without flinching.

"Today, and for this day only, we will accept signatures from those who wish to participate. With that, the grand hall is dismissed.

“Though I’m troubled that such a petition would arise during a gathering for unity, perhaps even this leads us toward true unity. When you rest, forget the petition—and find peace," Sophien concluded, gazing over the grand hall before rising from the throne.

***

After the grand hall, it turned into a party, and the cursed mansion became something entirely different—a ballroom filled with classical music and the glitter of the social circle. Deculein, Louina, and Bethan—the powers of the day—were the stars of the night. But Primien, Ria, and Maho, as commoners or foreign royals, were left on the sidelines.

"So, do you have a boyfriend or anything? I call," Epherene said.

Therefore, Epherene returned to her room, passing the time with a card game with Ria, Maho, and Primien, the four of them gathered around a small table.

The whole point of this event—at least, as I see it—was meant to be unity in fear. But the nobles here are ignoring Ria and Primien, choosing only to mingle among themselves, Epherene thought.

"Nope," Ria replied, sliding ten elne into the pot. "How about you, Mage Epherene? No boyfriend either? I call, too."

"I don’t have time for that," Epherene said, shaking her head. "But plenty of men keep coming after me. You saw it—those nobles who approached me earlier, right?"

It seemed the title of Deculein’s protégé carried more weight than Epherene had imagined, as several famous mages approached her with offers to dine—Bethan, Delpen, and even Elder Gaelon among them.

"But why didn't you have dinner with them? There was even an elder from the Round Table among them."

"Just because they were treating you guys so differently—toward Maho, or Deputy Director Primien as well."

"That's right, that's right~ I almost got my feelings hurt~ I'm a princess, but they didn’t even treat me like a Count~ I fold~ Everyone, show your hands, show your hands~" Maho said, pretending to cry.

“Four of a kind. I win,” Primien said, sliding her cards on the table.

“Oh!”

"Four of a kind—who’d have thought~" said Primien, former Deputy Director of the Ministry of Public Safety, gathering the elne from the table into her arms as if she were enjoying the gambling game.

"Yeah," Epherene replied, letting her cards fall and sinking back into her chair.

Ria, too, sighed, a hint of disappointment crossing her face.

“Haha,” Primien murmured, chuckling as she shuffled the deck again. “But, Ria, why did you become an adventurer at such a young age?”

“Because I have a goal,” Ria replied.

At the word goal, Epherene fell briefly into thought.

What is my goal now? Back then, it was clear—revenge. Revenge. Revenge against Deculein... But what is it now?

“I’ve heard adventurers get hurt a lot,” Epherene asked, looking again at Ria. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

"I've gotten used to pain, and most things don't even hurt anymore."

Epherene and Maho fell into a silence they couldn’t quite name, but Primien’s hands moved without hesitation, dealing the cards one by one.

“I call.”

And just as Primien called first...

Bang, bang, bang—!

There came a sound—a knock. No, it wasn’t a knock, but the sound of fists slamming against it.

“What? Who is—”

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang—!

At that moment, Epherene, Maho, and Ria crowded behind Primien, their arms wrapped around one another, eyes locked on the door, breaths held tight in their chests.

When no answer came, the knocking stopped. But a moment later, a voice called out from beyond the door.

“Epherene—are you inside?”

Epherene straightened, every sense focused on the door, and it was Deculein's voice.

“Open the door.”

It was Deculein's words to Epherene, telling her to open the door.

"... Professor?" Epherene replied, her throat tightening as she swallowed.

"Shh. Look—out the window," Ria whispered, pulling Epherene back and pointing toward it.

Everyone in the room turned to look toward the window.

“The sun’s already gone down.”

Outside, the sun disappeared behind dark clouds, and in that instant, a single rule returned to every mind.

Guests must remain inside their rooms after sunset

"It’s probably not Professor Deculein, as he is someone who always follows the rules."

“Does that mean—”

"It’s probably a ghost imitating his voice," Primien said, walking up boldly and looking through the peephole.

“... Professor Deculein?” Primien murmured, brow furrowing. “Well. It really is Professor Deculein.”

“Wait—really?” Epherene said, rushing over and peering through the peephole. “Oh, it really is him.”

And there he was, Deculein, standing outside the door.

"Suspicion is a virtue. I commend it. But understand this—not every room is safe, especially when the sun stays hidden. In that hour, even these rooms won’t protect you. Then you must find me, Her Majesty the Empress, or Yulie," Deculein said, standing at the door.

"Sorry? Oh—yes, Professor. But what was that just now? Did you knock on our door, Professor?"

"No, it must be the work of a ghost."

“No way.”

“I’ll take my leave,” Deculein said.

Thud, thud.

As if that were all he had come to say, Deculein turned and walked away, and soon after, the clouds above parted, allowing sunlight to pour in once more.

“... It should be safe to go out now, right?” Epherene muttered.

“No—”

“Wait a second—”

“Wait—”

The other three tried to stop her, but Epherene opened the door without a moment’s hesitation.

Creeeeeak—

As the door opened without resistance, Epherene looked both ways down the corridor and then stepped over the threshold.

"Oh—right. I need to sign for the special hearing," Epherene said, turning to look behind her. "Have you guys already?"

But behind her, the others stayed back, afraid, pressed flat against the walls of the room.

"You c-can go ahead and sign first. W-we'll follow," Ria said.

"... What a bunch of scaredy-cats," Epherene said, pouting as she nodded and walked toward the square of the old mansion.

Participation Registration Form

At the center of the square, a large bulletin board stood.

"... Why are there so many names?" Epherene muttered, pausing with the pen in hand and furrowing her brow.

There were over two hundred signatures, and as Epherene raised her head, tilting it slightly while reading through the sea of names, it clicked.

“... Wait a second.”

Deculein von Grahan-Yukline

Iggyris von Creyle-Freyden

Deculein's name was on the list, but just below it was the name of Iggyris von Creyle-Freyden.

“This name...”

Epherene recognized the name, and a chill ran down her spine, raising goosebumps on her skin—it was a name famous enough to belong in a fairytale.

"E-Eugh, I'm getting goosebumps!"

“What startles you so?”

A voice came from behind, and Epherene turned, her face pale as if she had already passed out, finding Deculein standing there.

“P-Professor! Professoooor—!”

"Have you lost your mind?"

Epherene ran straight for Deculein, ready to fall into his arms, but was stopped by his Telekinesis before she could reach him.

"No—look here!" Epherene said, pointing at the bulletin board.

Deculein’s eyes followed her pointing hand, and there it was—Iggyris’s name on the list, followed by name after name, all belonging to the dead.

"What’s the issue?" Deculein replied, reading the bulletin board without concern, his brow briefly furrowing at a line before he nodded, as if something had become clear.

"But aren’t these people dead?"

"Indeed, every one of them under Iggyris’s name."

“That’s exactly the issue...!”

“This is a cursed old mansion—the very doorstep to the afterlife.”

"W-what—the afterlife?!" Epherene muttered, her mouth falling open so wide it seemed it might touch the floor.

"Once the sun sets, the spirits may reach out to interfere," Deculein continued with calm composure, as if quoting a line from a book.

Then, Deculein pointed to another name on the form and added, "Here, Decalane's name is written as well.”

Rumbleeeeeeeee—!

Thunder rumbled at the worst possible moment, and Epherene flinched, turning her head toward the window.

“... Gulp.”

It was a sight that made her swallow hard, as the sun had disappeared behind thick clouds, casting darkness over the world...