WCMT 03

WCMT

Posted by george.adam, Released on October 25, 2025

<Episode 3>

I strode straight toward the “Empress of Passion” and snatched a dusty book, then rushed back to the records room.

I skimmed quickly, skipping the salacious parts, and less than a third of it could be called a proper story.

No — could this even be called a proper story?

“What a spectacle.”

It said I poisoned my father to take the throne, then seduced the neighboring king, the saint, and a dragon to sleep with me, using their power to declare Epiphanes an empire.

After becoming emperor I drank, gambled, and massacred freely, the book claimed.

It ended with the saint Raphiel and Felion joining hands to poison me because they could no longer bear my tyranny — that was how this ridiculous, absurd novel finished.

“Besides the fact that I was emperor, none of this is true, is it?”

My blood boiled. But who would I tell that this was all a lie?

I was so furious and wronged my temples ached.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down, but when I turned to the last page of the book my anger exploded again.

[It pains me to reveal a shameful history, but truth must be known so it is not repeated. Thus I leave this writing to posterity.

May a tyrant like Ira(ne?) Pilotimeomai Beloas never appear again. — Alie Legrand]

Below it was stamped with the imperial seal.

That meant the state had recognized it as official history.

I snapped my head to the side. Beyond the shelves I could see the names of those who took the throne after my death. The author of “Empress of Passion” was among them.

Alie Legrand Beloas.

The man who painted me as an infamous tyrant was the third emperor — in other words, my grandson.

“A tyrant? Me, a tyrant?”

I was born the heir and raised to be the heir.

I spent my childhood and youth entirely learning how to become a ruler.

When threatened by countless plots and assassination attempts, I did not run away; I stayed put. Even if I had to start wars and get my hands stained with blood, I protected the people and the country.

I humbly accepted the duty to make Epiphanes prosperous and glorious.

When desires grew in my heart, I turned away from them; when affection rose its head, I cut that feeling down. I married and had children out of necessity.

I lived excluding myself.

Only for Epiphanes.

For Epiphanes’s glory!

And now the only thing left is the stigma of “tyrant.” And not from anyone else, but twisted by my own descendants.

Emptiness and betrayal made my head spin.

What on earth was my life for?

Anger surged. I wanted to throw a tantrum and roar to have my achievements restored.

But no one would listen. At best they’d call me crazy. I forced myself to hold back.

“If I read the records of later generations, something will turn up.”

Why were my and Yulsian’s records gone? Why was I recorded as the unparalleled tyrant?

I sat and calmed my twisted stomach with a moment of meditation.

Then, with the skill I had used to peek through my father’s papers, I speed-read a hundred years of records right there.

Because I was in a hurry, I skimmed past mundane notes about who gave what to whom or who married whom.

I glanced at treaties with other nations occasionally, but mostly I flipped pages searching for familiar names.

“What the—?”

I sat so long my backside hurt, but I found very little.

Only that Yulsian was terrible at having children, and there was no mention of Raphiel or Felion.

There was also nothing about me.

The most recent record concerned the king who saved me, Luxor.

I read that part with some care.

Luxor didn’t even know he was royal; he was pulled out from tending sheep and taken to the palace 15 years ago.

Because the country had already fallen, everyone avoided the throne, so the ignorant man was forced to become king.

After that, there were no records. Only the royal family tree listing the names of children.

“How well things are running.”

After reading that tragic decline, I slammed the book shut.

And I made a decision.

“All right. I’ll attain enlightenment.”

I had been a great emperor before; if I worked at it, I could weather the crisis.

So what. Do you expect me to help?

A life spent only to be smeared with disgrace!

What blooms must wither, what rises must fall — that is nature’s law.

I knew my era had ended. Aside from the glory, I did not want to return to that precarious, lonely position.

I certainly had no desire to help the rotten descendants who ruined my country and smeared my name.

This was no longer my concern. Let them deal with their own household.

“Let’s go to the temple.”

Whether I bathed in sacred power or drank holy water, I needed to attain enlightenment quickly.

And then go to hell and, in the name of justice, not forgive the bastards who ruined Epiphanes and sullied my name.

Especially that grandson who wrote terrible things about me — I’d focus on him.

And I would appear in my descendants’ dreams to threaten them to fix my reputation.

That part was important.

Appear in their dreams and fix my reputation!

I steadied myself and stood up.

I dusted off my clothes and roughly tidied my hair.

The door flung open.

“Ria! Are you okay?”

A girl rushed in, voice gentle and worried.

She looked a lot like Raphiel.

Her face and holy aura seemed like Raphiel had been used as a mold and stamped out.

If you met her eyes you’d feel like confessing every sin.

I didn’t know her, but her calling me kindly and her shabby but properly made clothes suggested she was likely a royal descendant.

I pictured the family tree I’d just seen.

The king and queen had four children: twins first and second, a third born the following year, and the youngest three years younger than the third.

Only the second was a son; the others were daughters.

I must have entered the body of the youngest, so this girl was either the first or the third.

I sized her up and guessed her age, then called the third’s name.

“Floretta?”

She nodded, looking as if she had something to say.

When I didn’t say anything, Floretta grabbed my sleeve and shouted outside.

“Found her! Ponent, Ria is here!”

A boy a bit older than Floretta ran in.

So that was the second, Ponent.

When our eyes met Ponent wiped off his worried expression and started picking a quarrel.

“Are you sick? Look at that stupid expression.”

How dare he say that to my dignified face! The boy had no manners.

He looked like my father did — annoyingly so.

I considered fixing the brat’s manners, but Floretta stopped her brother.

“Ponent. Don’t.”

Right. I should attain enlightenment. Enlightenment.

There was no point arguing with them, so I ignored them and went out the door.

Ponent followed, acting cocky.

“Hey. You caused the palace to be in an uproar. Don’t you owe an apology?”

“The palace?”

“Yeah, you idiot! Where’ve you been hiding? If you’re going to be out all night in some other place, at least get your parents’ permission, huh? Hey! You listening?”

So they’d spent the night inside.

I had read a hundred years’ records sitting down all night, so that made sense.

No wonder I was hungry.

“Or did you do something wrong? Is that why you were hiding here?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. Move aside, hm! I have to go to the temple.”

“The temple? Why suddenly the temple?”

To attain enlightenment, you descendant fool!

I shoved Ponent aside and Floretta grabbed my hand.

“Ria. Let’s tell our parents first. Both of them cried.”

“They cried?”

I asked in shock and Ponent barged in.

“Yeah. Do you get it now?”