Tamed Monster - Chapter 119

At the top of the mural, a lion was depicted subduing a serpent, while at the bottom, the vanquished serpent lay coiled with its tongue lolling out.

Facing the intricately painted mural was a tapestry, painstakingly embroidered with a scene of the king on a hunt. Its border was trimmed with golden thread, forming the elaborate patterns symbolizing the Colnas Empire. Even the simplest decorations throughout the hall were arranged to highlight the grandeur and authority of the empire.

Seated idly on the throne beneath all this was the Emperor of the time, propping his chin on his hand and lost in thought.

Mostly, his thoughts revolved around how exceptional he was as an Emperor, and how the momentous decisions he’d made—sometimes after only brief consideration—had always benefited the empire.

So self-satisfied was he that he occasionally let out a chuckle. Truly, he couldn’t imagine anyone ruling the nation as competently as himself.

‘Even casting out that old woman from the palace, that was a brilliant move, if I do say so myself.’

After expelling that infamous woman from among the concubines, true peace had returned to the palace. The attendants, ladies-in-waiting, knights, and even the royal family themselves had openly praised him for it. After hearing such genuine admiration—so rare in his position—he was filled with boundless confidence.

“I am, without a doubt, the perfect sage-king.”

Not long ago, he had been involved in a minor scandal with a maid he had practically forced himself upon, but he had long since forgotten about her. He’d let her go unharmed; the desire to make her moan in pleasure had slightly outweighed his urge to make her scream. Even this, he considered a point of pride.

“There’s nothing I lack, whether in governing or in my affairs with women. Wouldn’t you agree, Secretary?”

His manner of speaking was hardly befitting a wise ruler, but in his self-absorption, he didn’t care. He blurted out whatever came to mind to anyone nearby. The secretary could only manage a weak nod, unable to muster any real enthusiasm.

To him, the emperor was not a sage-king, but rather, a true tyrant—perhaps the very definition of one.

“Yes, Your Majesty. You are indeed the perfect sage-king, destined to be remembered throughout history.”

He’d seen more than one person lose their head for saying the wrong thing in this hall. By now, the secretary had long abandoned any pretense of honesty or impartial record-keeping. Living under the rule of such a petty monarch, he had no choice but to adapt.

The king snorted at his mechanical reply.

“Always the sycophant.”

The secretary desperately wanted to ask why the emperor bothered talking to him when he knew he’d only get flattery, but he was well-practiced in suppressing such questions.

After spending a while longer basking in his own praise, the king abruptly changed the subject to another person—using a vulgar term that was anything but kingly.

“Isn’t she acting suspicious? The last time we met, her attitude was odd. It looked like she had something to say to me.”

The Duke’s woman, Sylvia, had, until a few years ago, been a princess in a neighboring kingdom. After her homeland fell to monster invasions and her family was scattered, she’d entered a political marriage with the duke. The treasures of her kingdom had been handed over to the empire as part of the deal.

But those weren’t ordinary treasures. If they had just been some jewels or trinkets, his late father would have eagerly added them all to the royal treasury and been done with it.

Each artifact was of astronomical value and steeped in history, which is why the royal family treated her with at least the semblance of respect, and why the Duke—though he looked down on her—kept her as his wife all these years.

‘He acts like he cherishes her now, but before he lost his memory, he could hardly stand to be near her.’

That’s why the Emperor had expected he’d have a chance to sample her charms before long. She always seemed lonely, her marriage to the Duke clearly a misery, and when the three of them were together, she often glanced at the Emperor more than her own husband—as if she were smitten.

But in reality, she was just keeping her guard up in front of a predator, never letting her eyes stray for even a moment. The Emperor, however, misunderstood. He had so little experience with genuine affection from women that he had no idea what real interest looked like.