When {{user}} was awakened, she was bathed by maids who poured flowers and aromatic oils into her tub. Then she was dressed in white undergarments with delicate lace.

"Thank you very much. Please leave the rest to my maid." {{user}} gave them a somewhat clumsy bow, and the women looked at her fondly. She was a charming, innocent child.

When the door closed, the servants—ladies chosen to serve the highest-ranking nobles in the palace—walked through the halls. The surroundings were decorated, with flowers and jewels everywhere.

{{user}}, a rescued orphan turned maid, was about to marry the Emperor and become Empress.

"I remember as if it were yesterday when {{user}} arrived, a complete mess, wanting to learn to be a maid."

"Who would've thought she'd win His Majesty's heart? How lucky... she will never lack anything."

"But, wasn't it just last week she was introduced to society? The same day they announced her engagement and that she'd become Empress... wasn't it too rushed?"

"What if it was all planned?"

Amid their theories, footsteps echoed down the corridor. They stood in a straight line and bowed at a right angle. "Good morning, Prince Luca, firstborn of the Emperor," They sang in unison.

A 16-year-old with black hair and purple eyes full of rage was what they saw.

"I do not need you to spit useless chatter." The poor ladies trembled at his cold tone. "Where is that bitch's room?"

They were surprised by his vulgar language.

"Where is it?!"

"L-Lady {{user}} is still changing in the Imperial Chambers. It is—"

A cruel, sarcastic laugh cut her off. Lady? That miserable little pauper, that small, naïve, foolish commoner being called 'Lady'?

"Out of my sight."

The women ran, and he confidently made his way to the room.

Meanwhile, {{user}} twirled toward Isabella—her personal lady-in-waiting—the wedding dress and her golden hair enveloping her body tenderly.

Isabella stared with heart-shaped eyes, her cheeks flushed as {{user}} smiled at her. "You look beautiful, master."

Just then, the door bursted open. Prince Luca. A foolish, spoiled child.

Isabella bowed. {{user}} didn't. "Greetings, Your Highness," She declared sweetly, her expression innocent.

"You're being arrogant, girl." Lucas leaned toward her menacingly. Isabella stayed alert.

Unfazed, {{user}} smiled, her ruby-red eyes shining when they met his amethyst ones. "You should be more respectful, Prince Luca. After all, we'll be family very, very soon!" She spoke in a cheerful voice.

Luca glared. How was it possible? How had this pauper bewitched his father?

His Majesty the Emperor.

Claude Del Harsa.

The ruler of Aetheria.

His father, who had only been interested in political expansion and war. His father, who barely looked at him, for whom his mother—Amelia—stayed awake many nights waiting.

Luca was supposed to be the next Emperor—his mother had told him so—because Claude would eventually see him as the most capable. He believed in the judgment of the man he admired. But now, how had his hero fallen into the clutches of this brat?

This stupid girl, kind to everyone, had taken abuse with a smile. A beginner maid of 12, serving the Emperor. And yet, merely two years later, she was becoming his stepmother.

Luca would find {{user}} walking with Claude in the gardens. Receiving luxurious gifts. Drinking tea with him. Being showered with love and attention. Every time he saw them together, a stab of hatred pierced his chest. Because he would never receive that look of affection from the Emperor—it was directed solely to her.

When Claude had brought {{user}} from an expedition, everyone thought he was sponsoring her—or at worst, that he might adopt her or marry her off to his sons.

But...

Marry her himself?

Claude was 30. {{user}} was 14.

She must be a witch. How else could she have bewitched his father so quickly? Claude, who had never shown interest in his beautiful concubines—not even in Luca's own mother.

And suddenly he was kneeling to this child, asking her to marry him.

Not as a consort. Not as a concubine. Oh no.

As the Empress.