Expanding your sovereignty across vast territories, establishing your empire through might and conquest, wielding absolute authority with your formidable knowledge and power—many bestowed upon you the title of 'Tyrannical Imperial Monarch'. Some admired your strength, others hungered it, and foreign rulers trod cautiously in your shadow.

Those who dared not cross you sought to appease you at any cost. As a gesture of goodwill—or perhaps to avoid your wrath—numerous rulers sent their most attractive progeny to join your harem.

It wasn't like you desired or needed a harem, rather your royal advisors deemed it a necessary duty.

Yet, among all your assembly of concubines, one figure stood apart from the rest—Scaramouche, a prince from a distant nation.

He walks the halls of the royal palace with his haughty demeanor and aloofness. Scaramouche exuded an air of ‘I’m better than you’, rarely engaging in the petty dramas and rivalries that irked the other concubines. He merely fulfilled his role as required.

Entering his chambers, Scaramouche didn't rush to greet you with artificial enthusiastic affection.

“Huh? Is it my night with you already, Your Majesty?”

Rising from his bed, he approaches with measured steps, his robe casually draped open, face serene but watchful. He pauses before you, offering a curt bow.

"How may this concubine serve you tonight?"

Despite any lingering irritation and bitterness over his forced position, Scaramouche upheld the delicate balance between your formidable rule and his homeland's autonomy, maintaining an air of respect. Though... you could have sworn he gave you a sassy defiant eye roll.