WCMT 02

Episode 2

“Iraneria!”

The door burst open, and a huge man came running inside—easily twice my height.

He waved his arm to clear the smoke, looked around, and finally spotted me.

“My dear child!”

My dear child?
To call the Emperor that—such insolence!

I was about to scold him for his disrespect when the man leapt through the flames and scooped me up as if I were a child.

“You’re safe!”

I almost struggled out of his arms but stopped when I saw how massive the doorway was.

Whatever the situation, if this man came in from outside, then that meant there was an exit that way.

If I waste even a moment, that way might be gone too.

From what little I could see, everything in this place was huge and heavy.

It would be faster to ride out in his arms than to try escaping on my own feet.

First things first—I’d hear the details once we got out of this fire.

I grabbed a vase, poured the water over his head, and used the rest to dampen my own hair and shoulders.

Then I tapped his shoulder twice. When his dazed eyes met mine, I pointed at the open door.

“Go. Move.”

He looked startled for a second, but then wrapped his arm protectively around my head and started running.

I heard heavy crashes nearby as things fell.

A fit of coughing erupted above my head. I pulled down on his collar and said,

“Keep your body low. The smoke is dangerous to breathe.”

He seemed confused and flustered but obediently followed my instructions.

As we descended the stairs, another voice shouted from below,

“Your Highness! Where are you?!”

“Here!” the man bellowed back.

Your Highness? Then this man was a king. I craned my neck to look at him.

I’d never seen his face before. The Emperor of the Epiphanes Empire had no acquaintance with him.

He must be a king from some far-off, insignificant land—or perhaps from another continent altogether.

Or maybe, just maybe, the king of some mythical race of giants.

I laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Congratulations.”

Whoever this king was, he had just saved the Emperor of the great Epiphanes Empire.

And I do not take my life—or my throne—lightly.

Once I understand this situation and return to my rightful place, I’ll see to it he is properly rewarded.

Even if he truly is from the legends, there’s no harm in fostering friendly relations with a race of giants.

Still, the posture was embarrassing, so I twisted slightly in his arms.

He finally set me down with a gentle yet awkward smile.

“But tell me,” he said.

“Speak.”

“Why are you talking to your father like that, my little princess?”

…Huh? Father?

My father’s been dead for years.

Before I could ask anything, the man who claimed to be my father suddenly collapsed.

They carried him away before I could question him further, and I was left alone in a spacious room.

“You’re safe here, so please stay put, alright? Don’t go anywhere!”

That was all the explanation I got before everyone rushed out.

I sat blankly on the sofa for a while, sorting through what had happened.

Then I stood and looked in the mirror.

The reflection staring back was not the dignified Emperor I knew.

Instead, a gentle-eyed girl with soft, round cheeks—a face like a cherub—stood there.

My hair had once been silver-gray, but hers gleamed with a blue sheen so dark it was nearly black.

The eyes were still gold—but the shape was entirely different.

So… I didn’t come to the land of giants.

I shrank?

No… “shrinking” doesn’t begin to describe it. I was in someone else’s body entirely.

Could this be a dream before meeting the gods?

Or had I somehow entered another person’s body?

Was such a thing even possible?

Stay calm. Don’t panic.

An Emperor never loses composure, even in the face of chaos.

First, assess the situation.

I cracked the door open and peered outside. I needed to know where I was, the date, and whose body this was.

Asking someone would be fastest, but the palace was in turmoil from the fire.

Official documents could tell me more about this kingdom—but those were usually locked away with royal permission.

Actually, that works in my favor.

On the way here, I’d passed what looked like an office.

If I go there, I can either ask someone or just steal a peek at the papers myself.

I walked carefully, memorizing the route and examining the surroundings.

The interior of the palace was… atrocious.

Cracks lined the walls, the gold leaf on the candleholders had peeled away, and there wasn’t a chandelier in sight. Decorations were missing or defaced everywhere.

Where statues should have stood proudly, only broken ankles and footprints remained.

Even when a nation falls, the palace usually stays pristine. What kind of fool let their royal palace fall into this state?

Clicking my tongue, I slipped quietly into the room I’d marked earlier.

If there were confidential documents here, I couldn’t let anyone find me.

After locking the door, I turned—and saw shelves upon shelves of books.

A library, not an office then.

No matter. Books could still tell me where I was.

…That is, if there were any books left.

It seemed this wretched kingdom had even sold off its royal library.

Is that a bookshelf or a cobweb display?

I clicked my tongue again, scanning the sparse collection.

Dust lay over fallen books like burial mounds. I covered my mouth and nose with my sleeve, brushing off one spine.

The title emerged from beneath the grime:

[The Empress of Scandalous Affairs]

This must be the royal library, and this is the kind of filth its shelves hold? Disgraceful.

Clicking my tongue yet again, I moved deeper between the shelves—until I found a door locked tight in the far corner.

In my old palace, such doors always led to the royal archives. Most kingdoms stored their family records in secluded, guarded areas like this.

If I was right, that door led to the royal record room.

A strong intuition guided me closer. I bent to inspect the lock—

And a chill raced down my spine.

The lock was identical to the one on the royal archive door in my own palace in Anes.

Impossible.

If it were an ordinary lock, I’d have brushed it off—but that lock was one of a kind.

It had been crafted by Pelion, to open only to the Emperor and their bloodline. His enchantments and craftsmanship were too intricate for imitation.

“No way…”

No way.

There’s no way this could be the Epiphanes Empire.

My grand, magnificent, resplendent palace could never have become this wretched ruin.

They must’ve copied its design—yes, that’s it. Just a cheap imitation with no real magic.

It wouldn’t open to my touch anyway.

Please. Don’t open.

I prayed to Shamash, god of the sun, and—just in case—to Levana, the moon goddess I didn’t even believe in.

But the moment my hand touched it, the lock clicked open.

So the fool who ruined this palace… was one of my own descendants?

My vision blurred. My chest ached. Tears threatened to rise.

But an Emperor does not weep easily.

I tilted my head back and saw what remained of a chandelier—just a bare, skeletal frame where the crystal had been sold off.

Anger burned hotter than the fire I’d escaped.

Calm down. Focus. Assess the situation.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

Thankfully, the records inside were intact.

The shelves were packed full of history. I felt a small wave of relief.

I opened the first book I saw.

[Luxor Daidalos Veloas. Reigned from Year 1739 of the Shamash Calendar ~]

The year 1739? That meant at least eighty-five years had passed since my death.

So the man who saved me earlier… was my descendant?

Then why was he a king, not an emperor?

I hurried down the rows of shelves, scanning names.

Nothing. The records for Yulsian were completely empty.

The sections that should’ve been filled with my own glorious reign were blank as well.

Yulsian I could understand—perhaps there were complications.

But me?

Where was my brilliance? My empire’s golden age?

The achievements that should have been immortalized through the ages—gone!

The long, arduous life I built from nothing—gone!

Impossible.

There had to be something—some record, some mention, even in a legend or gossip chronicle.

I stepped out of the archive, searching desperately.

Then I saw it—the book I’d brushed earlier, still lying on the floor.

Only its title glared clean through the dust:

[The Empress of Scandalous Affairs]

As far as I knew, there had only ever been one woman to bear the title of Emperor in Epiphanes.

A cold dread crept up my neck.