A Villain Is a Good Match for a Tyrant

“Your name is Cecil Franvier Navidan, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the offspring of the king of Navidan and one of the royal court maids, and recognized as a princess of Navidan due to your platinum blonde hair and emerald eyes that are trademark traits of the royal family. However, you’ve only lived in the villa throughout most of your life, yes?”

“Yes.”

“The only people you interacted with were the maids situated in the villa, who grew up with you and received the same education you did. These maids and you share a common hobby, reading romance novels, and your favourites are romantic tales about damsels who get saved by dashing knights and they eventually fall in love with each other.”

“… That’s right.”

“And these novels are mostly intended for a mature audience due to their suggestive content. Let’s see… The Captive Princess Weeps for the Knight’s Love? The Canary in the Cage of Eternity? Secret Love in the Attic?”

“… I’m sorry, I’ve erred. Please just kill me now.”

As the next questions followed in quick succession, Cecil wanted to hurl herself over the same window the assassins had been flung across.

* * *

She had been apprehensive about the sort of questions the Emperor would come up with when he gave the green light to begin an interrogation, but she never imagined he would mention the titles of her favorite novels and ask, ‘Do you like this?’

She was so ashamed her reading habits had been brought to light that she couldn’t bring herself to view their covers although the novels were shown right in front of her eyes. Each time he read out the titles of the novels she had once pored over enthusiastically, she wanted to slam her head into the wall. But her only respite was to roll around on the sheets.

‘This is the very meaning of mortification. He has yet to do anything close to torture but I’m already exhausted.’

“Alright. Now that I’ve finished quizzing you about your personal life, I want to ask you this—why did you demand that I come out to welcome you in person, claiming it to be a custom of Navidan’s?”

Cecil contemplated what excuse she should make but her tongue suddenly began to quip on its own, disregarding the wheels whirling in her brain.

“I’m going to trap and ruin the kingdom of Navidan which sold me off, just as a demon ensnares[1] its prey.”

‘What-what’s happening here? Mouth, why are you talking spontaneously?’ Cecil who was caught off guard, hurriedly shut up but the cat was already out of the bag. ‘This is weird. What’s wrong with me?’

Her eyes, swimming in embarrassment and panic, swept the room and rested upon the bottle on the table. Don’t tell me…

A lazy smile played across Estian’s lips when he noticed where her eyes were fixated upon.

“Yes, the truth serum[2] that you consumed seems to be working pretty well. Even if you try to refuse me an answer or twist your words, you’ll still end up telling the truth.”

Cecil’s face blanched. Estian who had been carefully watching her face, continued to speak.

“Sold off… It must have been very frustrating to be the one chosen instead of the other princesses. Is this marriage such an abominable prospect?”

“Of course! Who would ever want to marry you?”

Estian’s face hardened at her response. Seeing the change in his expression, Cecil lamented inwardly and admired herself for saying that statement.

‘I don’t know the origins of this truth serum, but it works… quite effectively…’

Estian kept quiet. At a cursory glance, he looked as if his soul has detached from his body due to the shock. Naturally, she knows that the emperor can’t be unnerved over those petty words, yet she somehow felt that he ought to be comforted.

‘The moment I thought so, my mouth ran away with me again.’

“No… I don’t mean to say that everyone would be averse to marrying Your Majesty, in fact I suspect some would jump at the chance to do so. They could have wept and envied me when they attended the wedding earlier today because they haven’t been chosen.”

“… What sort of person would like to marry me?”

“Uh… I suppose they’re the sort to live in the moment, nary a care for tomorrow, indulging in all the pleasures and luxuries life has to offer and go about their ways peacefully? Moreover, such a low-profile man as you would be less likely to be insulted when you commit terrible deeds…”

At this point, he would rather believe in magic instead of her truthful confession. Cecil itched to slap her mouth which impulsively blurted out these streams of words without a filter.

‘It’s not wrong, though.’

There must be someone in this world who desired such. No, truth be told there are many who will line up in hopes they’ll be selected. Basically, it’s a feat to pick a candidate for the Empress’ seat among the royal daughters who are well fed and raised in the lap of luxury. If there had been a candidate amongst them who’d been slightly more desperate, he might have found the one.

‘No, it’s entirely possible that there are quite a few illegitimate princesses just like me.’

There might have been someone who would rather offer herself to the most powerful man on the continent than live a fearful life not knowing when and to whom they’d be sold off.

While Cecil was lost in her thoughts, Estian’s eyes flickered, snapping out of his daze. He asked her once again,

“You don’t have a greed for that, do you?”

“I don’t. I want to live a long and prosperous life.”

“… Right.”

Estian who briefly remained silent after her prompt response, spoke up again suddenly,

“What do you think of me?”

“You’re the greatest tyrant of the present day. You built a river of blood and a mountain of corpses.”

“… No, not that.”

“What did you mean, then…?”

“I’m asking what do you think of me as a man—an ordinary man, presuming you weren’t aware of my status?”

Estian appeared to stutter a little, but Cecil’s honest mouth replied instantly,

“Splendid. You’ve got the face and a really nice physique as well. You’re not too pale nor too tan; your colouring is just right. I caught a glimpse when you threw the dagger. You’re far more muscular than all of the fictional men I’ve seen depicted in books. It’s typically the case that when a man has the looks, they lack a great build, and vice versa. Whereas, you have both good looks and muscular build! 10, 000 out of 10 points! Your voice is nice too, so I’ll give an additional 1000 points. If you weren’t the emperor, I’d have tied you to myself to the point that not even a droplet of water can pass through us, even if I have to work two hours a day. Since that isn’t the case now, I’d like to lie down next to you and gaze at you to my heart’s content. And of course, it goes without saying that you need to be topless throughout the session.”

… Damn you, truth serum.

… Infernal bastard.

‘How do I get out through the window without rolling? I’d rather be floating next to a corpse straight away and keep it company.’

While she was distressed over her litany of words, Estian’s mouth curved into a smile.

“You mean…”

“Well, why did you ask me that then…?”

His smile widened.

“We need to talk at length.”

Then he reached for a vial next to the bottle and poured its contents into the latter.

“Drink this. It’s a neutralizer.”

“You should have given me that earlier!”

Cecil rushed to drink the liquid as he brought the glass to her mouth. She couldn’t bear to let the truth serum affect her any further. Soon, a familiar sensation, from her initial experience with the serum, spread throughout her body and she felt sluggish and wobbly.

‘I need to be careful in whatever I consume from now on.’

Cecil moved to sit up, despite her lethargy since she was in the presence of the monarch and at the very least, she had to sit properly.

…..

“Eh?”

Suddenly her eyes shot open, her voice echoing in the silence. She was currently unaware of her state of dishabille, and so the emperor was holding her in his arms, steadying her.

“We were having a conversation…”

“Indeed.”

His voice tickled her ears.

“I’ll finish what I have to do before that.”

‘What do you want to do? What’s that?’

* * *

The servants of the imperial court lingered anxiously outside the bridal chambers. Everyone already knew of last night’s commotion. They had heard a groan from the inner quarters, followed by screams and the sound of something smashing to the ground.

‘You failed to capture her at the wedding ceremony, but you succeeded at night.’ They all thought along the same lines.

As soon the ceremony was over, rumors quickly spread throughout the palace. Everyone predicted the emperor would set out to destroy the kingdom of Navidan on the big day itself; certainly, he would finish off the empress first and foremost, then her kingdom.

The morning following his wedding night, the face of the emperor radiated an extremely rare pleasant expression as he emerged from the bridal chambers. The servants wasted no time in congregating after his departure and a serious discussion ensued.

“Who’s going to go in and clean up the empress’ body?”

No one volunteered naturally. In the end, they chose the one who will take on the task by playing rock, paper and scissors, all of them still wearing serious expressions.

“Doesn’t the loser enter the chamber?”

“If you put it that way, this seems like a penalty. The chance to serve the empress is an honour, so whoever wins should shoulder the task.”

All of them, with one heart and mind, pushed the victor into the chamber. The selected servant inhaled deeply, pressing at her pounding heart with her hands.

‘I still can’t get used to it no matter what.’

People die all too often in the palace.

She turned to the corner without thinking and instantly came across an unknown body separated from its neck, a victim of last night. One of several, no doubt.

It gave her flashbacks to a time when a co-servant who had been merrily chatting and working together with her just the day before had her head severed and tossed into the pond, her body nowhere in sight.

Yet, there was no need to search for the culprit. It was blatantly obvious who it was.

At the end of the hallway stood the emperor, wiping off the blood from his sword, the body at his feet. When she checked out the pond, she discovered another corpse swimming with the shards from the windows of the emperor’s office; it was apparent he had been flung through the window.

When she had gotten a firsthand experience of the horrors, she had been terrified and begged the chief of servants earnestly to leave the palace at once, but whenever she or the other servants did so, the contract they signed would be shoved at them.

<Leave is allowed only after a duration of 3 years. Otherwise, you shall be executed.>

This portion stood out the most in the long winded contract. The chief merely told the blubbering servant to begin unpacking again and that she would be safe as long as she kept a clear head, and did not come up with inappropriate ideas.

Knock, knock.

She rapped the door.

“I’m here to assist you, Your Majesty.”

“To dispose of your body,” she murmured as an afterthought. There was no reply. Well, how on earth will a corpse answer? She took inhaled deeply, composing herself, and opened the door.

“Eh?”

Contrary to her expectations, however, there were no signs of bloodshed. The faint aroma of the wine and fruits and the empress’ scent lingered in the air.

‘There’s the fragrance of the rose perfume I prepared for the empress, but this odd smell…’

“You there…”

As she was looking around, wondering where the empress’ corpse could be, she heard a voice coming from the bed.

“Aahhhh!”

She stared at the bed, letting out an astonished scream. The slender fair arm that materialized from beneath the blanket trembled as it gestured at the servant.

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“Your Majesty, Empress! Yo-you’re alive!”

The overwhelming relief of not having to clear up a corpse brought tears to her eyes. At the same time, she wondered—why on earth did the emperor spare the Empress’ life? As she ran towards the bed, she realized why. The empress who stuck out her head slightly from beneath the blanket, was flushed red from her face to her neck.

Her mouth was swollen and crimson, and red telltale bruises littered a meandering path from her delicate neck to her shoulders and the hollows in between. It seems last night, the emperor and his empress shared a passionate and amorous first night.

[1] to catch or get control of something or someone

[2] Truth-serum is a colloquial name for any of a range of psychoactive drugs used in an effort to obtain information from subjects who are unable or unwilling to provide it otherwise.