Chapter 1 

 The Empress Goes to the Slave Market

“Why don’t you, too, keep a lover, Empress? It’s not as though you’ll live to see thirty anyway.”

Those were the words I heard from Clifford, the Emperor and my husband, shortly before I died.

Coming from Clifford, who was so busy rolling around with the women in his harem that he rarely even attended council meetings, it was exactly the sort of thing he would say.

Soft, reddish-brown hair that reminded me of a field of wheat.

Blue-gray eyes that were chillingly cold, yet endlessly mysterious.

You were my first love. Ours was a political marriage, but you were the only one for me.

That was why I gave you everything.

Even as both my legs hardened like rotten tree roots and my life crumbled away in a wheelchair, you alone were my sun.

“You’re pitiful, that’s all. I feel sorry for you, dying young because you’re so obsessed with power.”

“Are you telling me to take a sex slave, just like Your Majesty?”

“At last, we understand each other.”

“Are you pitying me? Or are you insulting me?”

“Does it offend you that a puppet emperor pities you, the symbol of the Angel Empire?”

Clifford sneered.

“I suppose it would. You’re the chosen woman, after all, showered with the love of the goddess.”

“Please, stop.”

“You must still be looking into my future, aren’t you? Wondering which woman I’ll take to bed tonight. Heh.”

Why had the goddess Ahala bestowed the ‘Eyes of the Stars’ upon the daughter of the Landesta family instead of someone from the Angel royal family?

Was it because every time I saw the future, my body became paralyzed?

Because I was destined to die before reaching thirty?

What a disgusting blessing. What a filthy fate.

Because I possessed the Eyes of the Stars, I was designated the Crown Princess from the moment I was born.

At six, I entered the Imperial Palace and began my education as the future Empress.

At twelve, I married Clifford, who was one year older than me.

I had been created for Clifford alone.

I was forced to become a perfect Empress and devote myself to the Empire, no matter how badly my body deteriorated.

No one cared about my life, my youth, or my happiness.

I did not feel wronged.

I had been brainwashed so thoroughly that I could not even imagine that I was being treated unfairly.

“As an Empress, you must endure.”

“Well done. But next time, you must be even more perfect.”

“This is for His Majesty the Emperor and the Empire. Please, work harder.”

From the moment I was born until the day I died at the young age of twenty-six, I was bound by the shackles of responsibility.

Then why had I been given another life?

No—why had I been unable to die?

What had the goddess Ahala, who governed life and death, foresaw the future, and punished evildoers, done to me?

When I opened my eyes again inside the Imperial Palace at the age of twenty-two, I swore that I would curse the goddess for the rest of my life.

“Why did you turn back time? You didn’t even send me back to before that incident! You won’t even save that child! Why are you punishing me like this when I obeyed you all my life?!”

The goddess gave no answer.

I dragged myself through the beginning of my second life inside a golden cage.

Nothing had changed.

I whipped my frail body into working itself to death in Clifford’s place.

Even though I hated him, I still wanted to prevent the Empire from collapsing.

I had to endure being called an Empress obsessed with power, a heartless and bloodthirsty Empress without a shred of compassion.

I was always lonely, and even more despairing than before.

Because I knew exactly when and how I would die.

If I had to name the one thing that was different from my previous life…

It was that Michelle, the daughter of the Emperor’s nanny and my childhood friend, had refused to become an Imperial Consort.

‘She used to scheme all kinds of things just to become the Imperial Consort.

She never hesitated to commit evil acts while basking in Clifford’s favor.

So why had she changed?’

I found it strange, but I never pressed her for an answer.

Although she did not become the Imperial Consort, Michelle still enjoyed all kinds of privileges as the Emperor’s close personal maid.

Clifford was practically beside himself because he could not take Michelle into his bed.

Should I take revenge on the Empire and Clifford, who had sacrificed my life as an offering?

Should I kill myself before the Eyes of the Stars devoured my heart?

What if I regressed again?

I wanted to leave the Imperial Palace, but my body could not move without a wheelchair.

I had never learned how to feel happiness.

Nor had I learned how to live freely.

Then, about six months later, something I could never have imagined happened.

Clifford entered the Empress’s office without even knocking and sneered.

“Why don’t you, too, keep a lover, Empress? It’s not as though you’ll live to see thirty anyway.”

My hand holding the fountain pen stopped dead.

It was exactly the same as the words I had heard in my previous life.

Clifford’s handsome face, carrying that mocking smile, was the same.

Even those low, contemptuous eyes waiting for me to lose my temper were the same.

But the timing was completely different.

I had heard those words shortly before my death, hadn’t I?

Was I going to die even sooner in this life instead of at twenty-six?

“Why? You don’t like my suggestion?”

When I gave him no reaction, Clifford asked.

I studied him with calm eyes.

Clifford glared back at me, his brows twisted.

Those were not the eyes of a man looking at the wife he had grown up with since childhood.

If anything, they were the eyes of a stubborn man who had decided to become twisted because he could not bear his brutally trampled pride.

“Whenever you make that face, Empress, it feels like I can hardly breathe.”

In my previous life, I had always been on edge whenever I saw the look in Clifford’s eyes.

I believed it was merely a period of wandering.

I believed that someday, he would finally look at me.

What a useless, foolish life it had been.

“Didn’t you still walk until the year before last? You did waddle like a duck, though.”

Clifford looked toward my legs hidden beneath my dress and sneered.

Swallowing down the ball of fire rising inside me, I answered in a dry voice.

“I used the Holy Eye only for my homeland and Your Majesty.”

“Sometimes, I find that hard to believe.”

“Did Michelle tell you that? That I’m pretending I can’t use my legs?”

“Don’t slander her. Shell is always so concerned about the Empress.”

Simply mentioning Michelle softened Clifford’s expression considerably.

But there was a strange cruelty mixed into the eyes fixed upon me.

Something had definitely changed.

Could it be because my attitude toward Clifford had changed?

“Why are you suddenly saying this?”

“You’re pitiful, that’s all. I feel sorry for you, dying young because you’re so obsessed with power.”

“Are you telling me to take a sex slave, just like Your Majesty?”

“At last, we understand each other.”

In my previous life, I thought he had said it simply to insult me.

I had dismissed the idea outright, saying that keeping a lover was absurd.

But what if there had been another motive hidden beneath his words?

What was Clifford plotting?

“I’m only advising you because I think you should enjoy your life, too. You’re not going to live forever, you know.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then buy a male prostitute or a pretty boy to take into your bed. I permit it in the Emperor’s name.”

“I said I don’t need one.”

“Ah… Is it that you don’t function?”

A woman who could not accept a man, a woman who could not bear a child.

To Clifford, I was nothing more than a crippled woman who had lost the ability to bear children.

Neither a wife nor anything more.

How could a husband—no, how could any human being—utter such cruel words?

With hands that had gone deathly pale, I covered my flat stomach.

“Bring in a sturdy one. Maybe he can bring those lost sensations back to life. And once you have yourself a plaything, you won’t have any time left to nag me! Hahaha.”

I wanted to kill the version of myself who had once loved him.

I wanted to cut away that entire life—the life he had mocked—as though it had never existed.

Never again would I surrender myself to something as foolish as emotion.

I would not waver for anyone.

I would not cry because of anyone.

Nor would I laugh for anyone.

Endless rage burned through every joint in my body.

‘If that is what you want, then I will indulge myself to my heart’s content.

Until the very moment my life ends…!’

I summoned Joan, my secretary and right-hand man.

“Prepare yourself. We’re going to the slave market.”

“Your Majesty. Please, at least take this…”

Joan held out a black mask.

I could feel the anguish of a loyal servant forced to escort the exalted Empress to a slave market.

“What good will a mask do? I’m the only woman in the Imperial Capital who travels around in a wheelchair.”

“There are too many eyes watching.”

“I am here because of the Emperor’s command. His Majesty will take responsibility for whatever happens afterward.”

With calloused hands, he pushed my wheelchair.

Unlike my previous life, this time I intended to follow Clifford’s advice.

The general manager came hurrying over in alarm.

“I shall escort you myself, Your Majesty!”

Just before the general manager’s hand touched my wheelchair, I spoke in an icy voice.

“Who gave you permission to touch it?”

“Y-Your Majesty?”

“Step back. Before I have your wrist cut off.”

The Imperial Guards of the Empress drew their swords.

The general manager turned pale and immediately prostrated himself.

“P-Please, Your Majesty! Have mercy!”

Perhaps he had finally remembered the men who had lost their wrists after attempting to push the Empress’s wheelchair.

No one was allowed to touch my wheelchair.

It was the final shred of pride belonging to an Empress whose legs were paralyzed.

The slave market was decorated as luxuriously as a high-end boutique, but there was something deeply unpleasant about the place.

I hated the fact that a market where humans were still bought and sold existed.

But slavery had existed alongside the Empire throughout its history. It could not simply be abolished overnight.

Rather than trying to persuade people that slaves were human beings just like us,

it had proven more effective to impose enormous fines on merchants and owners who violated the slave laws.

How were the slaves being treated?

Were the laws prohibiting human trafficking actually being followed?

As I surveyed my surroundings with a sharp gaze, the general manager spoke.

“Your Majesty, how about a virgin young male as pure as the first snow?”

“?”

“We also have young men who have received special training for noble ladies.”

That’s right.

I had not come here to inspect the place.

I had come to buy a slave.

Besides, this was a slave market that sold slaves for ‘pleasure.’

“Boys as delicate and refined as cosmos flowers, trained in elegant manners, are very fashionable these days. I can offer one at a special discount, if Your Majesty would only say the word.”

I pressed my throbbing temple.

I had no interest in slaves, but I did not want to return empty-handed.

That, too, would only give Clifford another reason to mock me.

“This is no place for Your Majesty!”

Ignoring the general manager, I rolled my wheelchair forward.

“Where I wish to go is where I shall go.”

“Your Majesty! Please stop!”

“You are noisy.”

Once I passed through an arch made of black stone, I was finally able to escape the overpowering scent of perfume.

It was difficult to watch the beautiful young boys with dull eyes beg someone to choose them.

It was equally unbearable to see the young men who kept smiling even when the scraps of cloth covering their private parts were stripped away.

“The gladiator arena is far too cruel for someone as noble as Your Majesty!”

The sound of weapons clashing rang out from ahead.

Only then did I realize that there were many different kinds of ‘entertainment.’

There were people who became excited watching flesh being torn apart, blood spilling everywhere, and men ultimately dying—or being forced to kill.

Just like my father, Marquis Briariton Landesta, and Clifford.

Joan carefully offered his advice.

“Your Majesty, perhaps we should return. The gladiator arena is dangerous.”

“Is there anywhere more dangerous than the Imperial Palace?”

It had been only two years since the war with the Colonaatus Empire had ended.

There were always plenty of assassins targeting me.

Who was behind them was uncertain.

It could have been the Colonaatus royal family.

Or the anti-Imperial faction among the nobles of Angel.

It could even have been my husband.

Or my childhood friend.

I had many enemies.

But I had neither friends nor a family in the true sense of the word.

A chilly wind swept through my hollow chest.

Let’s go back.

Back to my castle crawling with rivals and political enemies.

Back to the side of the husband who hated me.

The moment I began pushing my wheelchair, the black curtain covering one side of the wall suddenly opened to both sides.

“Wooooah!”

A deafening roar erupted, accompanied by the thunder of drums.

Before me was a circular arena paved with stone slabs, surrounded by tiered spectator stands.

The wealthy spectators filling every seat were screaming themselves hoarse, shouting someone’s name.

“Black Bug! Black Bug!”

When I looked at the general manager in confusion, he explained.

“He is the most popular slave in the gladiator arena.”

“His name is Black Bug?”

The general manager pointed toward the man standing in the middle of the gladiator arena.

As though that alone was enough of an explanation.