BTEE 01

Chapter 01

“Such a pity, truly.”

As Cassielope spoke slowly, letting her gaze sweep over the assembled ministers, the atmosphere in the room instantly grew heavy.

“If I had remained on the imperial throne, at least your sons might have had a chance to sit where I once did.”

The sound of her fingertips tapping against the Empress’s chair—an ornate, extravagant seat encrusted with gold and jewels—echoed through the silent hall.

In that stillness, the rhythm of her tapping grew quicker and sharper.

None of the ministers dared to lift their heads; they stared fixedly at the floor.
From the day she was born, they had bowed their heads to her—and even now, nothing had changed.

Once an Emperor, now an Empress.
The Empire’s sun turned to its moon.

That was all.

Cassielope crossed one leg over the other, resting her chin on her hand as she studied them carefully.
These were the same men who had long assisted both her and her father in running the Empire’s affairs.

“Why are you trembling so?” she asked softly. “If anything, I should be thanking you. After all, you’ve seated me in a place the Emperor could never reach.”

Duke Icart’s face went deathly pale. He had been the one most vocal in calling for her abdication.

He had succeeded in crowning Duke Euriel as Emperor—but neither he nor any of the others had foreseen this outcome.

That the woman dethroned from the Emperor’s seat would rise again as Empress—none of them had imagined it.

Cassielope rose gracefully, picked up the crimson mantle lying on the floor, and walked slowly toward Duke Icart.

Just yesterday, that very cloak had hung across her shoulders as the Emperor’s robe.

“It’s not even winter,” she murmured. “And yet you’re trembling so pitifully. How frail you look—it makes me feel almost sorry for you, hmm?”

She draped the cloak gently over the Duke’s shoulders, giving him a light pat.
Then, with one finger, she tilted his chin upward, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

When his gaze met her cool, violet eyes, the Duke’s pupils trembled violently.

“Y-Your Majesty…”

“You’ve grown bold, Duke. You even dare meet my eyes now.”

Her face was cold, but her lips curved into a soft smile.
The Duke wanted to look away, to shake off her hand—but he couldn’t. His eyes squeezed shut, trembling.

“I hear you have a beloved daughter, don’t you?”

At that, the Duke’s eyes flew open. His whole body went rigid, color draining from his face.
Cassielope could feel the faint tremor that ran through her finger as she held his chin—and she smiled, sharp and cruel.

“Send her to the Empress’s Palace in two days. As you know, I am rather short of handmaidens.”

“Y-Your Majesty, please, I beg you—spare her, I beg you!”

She pressed a finger to her lips.
“Shhh. A Duke shouldn’t beg so pitifully. There are too many eyes watching.”

“Your Majesty, please… I’ll do anything—just spare my daughter!”

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad arrangement to me,” she said sweetly.
“To be the Empress’s lady-in-waiting—what woman in the Empire wouldn’t desire such a post? Why, with luck, she might even catch His Majesty’s eye.”

It wasn’t an untrue statement.

Becoming the Empress’s attendant brought honor and status—sometimes even the Emperor’s affection.
Many Empresses throughout history had once been handmaidens themselves.

But every man in that hall knew what she truly meant.

A handmaiden could not leave the palace, nor marry, without the Empress’s permission.
Cassielope was taking the Duke’s daughter as a hostage in all but name.

Duke Icart’s love for his daughter was well known throughout the Empire.
He had refused every suitor he deemed unworthy, keeping her close at home—and now she was far past the proper age for marriage.
If she entered the palace now, she would certainly miss her time to wed.

The Duke shook his head desperately, but it was useless.
Cassielope turned her back on him and began to walk.

Click, click—

The sharp, lively sound of jeweled heels struck the marble floor—shoes she had never worn before, far too splendid even for her.

Just before she reached the Empress’s chair, she turned around and met the eyes of every man in the room.

“Count Mardia,” she said. “Your wife is said to be quite intelligent, isn’t she? Such talent shouldn’t go to waste in your estate. I’ll make her head of my household staff. Have her enter the palace tomorrow—with your daughter.”

“Your Majesty…!”

“Marquis Lothes,” she continued smoothly, “your eldest son is an exceptional swordsman. I believe I’ll have him join my personal guard. Surely, a man in that position could aspire to lead the Imperial Knights one day.”

After naming each of their families—one by one—Cassielope finally returned to her seat.

The ministers could only stare at her, their faces drained of color, horror and dread in their eyes.
She shrugged lightly and smiled, her violet gaze sliding toward the man beside her.

Regis Euriel—the man who had dethroned her and taken the crown for himself.

Despite her audacious cruelty, he said nothing. He merely allowed it all to unfold.

“This is acceptable, isn’t it, Your Majesty?” she asked softly. “Since they’ll serve me, the Empress, it’s only proper that I choose them myself.”

“…As the Empress wishes,” he replied quietly.

“Y-Your Majesty!” the Marquis of Lothes burst out. “How can you do this to us? Have you already forgotten that we were the ones who placed you on the throne?!”

“Your voice is too loud, Marquis,” Cassielope said coolly. “I believe I’ve warned you about that before.”

“…”

The Marquis bit his lip hard, trembling with suppressed rage. Cassielope smiled wickedly.

“How strange,” she mused. “You were the ones who raised His Majesty to the throne. And now, you would defy a decree he himself permits?”

No one dared to respond. Silence thickened the air.

Her words were irrefutable—they had been the ones to crown Regis.

“If you dislike it so much,” she said softly, her tone laced with mockery, “why not rebel once more? The first time is always the hardest. The second—surely easier.”

“…”

“Ahahaha! Judging by your faces, you almost seem tempted. What do you think, Your Majesty?”

Even at her taunting, Regis did not react.
He didn’t so much as flinch—simply watched her in silence.

“If it eases your heart to speak so, then do as you wish, Lope,” he murmured at last, leaning close enough for only her to hear.
“All I ask is that you remain by my side.”

At his whisper, the expression she’d barely managed to hold together faltered. Her face darkened.

“Then allow me to congratulate you in advance, Your Majesty,” she said coldly.
“The only man in history to claim as his Empress the woman who once ruled as Emperor.”

“…”

“And tell me, gentlemen,” she continued, her voice turning deceptively gentle, “if a ruler who abuses his power is called a tyrant, what, then, do we call an Empress who does the same?”

The nobles she had named went pale as parchment.
Cassielope’s lips curved in satisfaction.

They knew her too well.
They had seen her kindness, yes—but also the blade hidden beneath it.
They had merely forgotten, blinded by their alliance with her.

“Ah, so there’s no word for it,” she said softly. “How fortunate. At least I’ll have some dignity left when I meet the late Emperor in the afterlife.”

“…”

“You know, don’t you,” she added quietly, “how hard I tried not to earn such a name.”

Her courteous tone carried the edge of a honed sword.
Roughly, she gathered the hem of her lavish gown in her fists.

The dress she had dreamed of as a child—now it gleamed with vulgar splendor she despised.

For a moment, she nearly tore the fabric apart. Her hands trembled with rage, but she forced herself to smile—a beautiful, bitter smile.

Rage at her humiliation, the sting of betrayal from the man beside her—all of it burned inside her throat.
But worst of all was the fury she felt toward herself—for being too blind to see it coming.

Noticing the shadow that crossed her face, Regis’s jaw tightened.
But she did not spare him a single glance.

Without another word, Cassielope turned and walked away.
His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, heavy and unyielding.