Chapter 8: His Method of Survival

"Your residence, Your Majesty. It shall be your abode henceforth. Fear not, for any intruders. His Majesty has already taken care of the necessary arrangements, ensuring your comfort for the time being."

What exactly did the emperor clean? Cecile pondered. And what did "for the time being" imply? Did it suggest that danger might resurface in due course?

As she strolled alongside the attendants, these thoughts troubled her. Something seemed amiss, though. One door opened, then another, and yet another on top of that. She walked and walked, and the distance seemed interminable.

Exhausted from the lengthy walk, Cecile finally mustered the courage to ask, "Um, when will we arrive at my room?"

One of the attendants looked at Cecile with a perplexed expression upon hearing her question. "All the rooms we passed since the first door belong to you, Your Majesty... Is there a problem?"

"...No. It's nothing. Please proceed."

Despite that, the attendants continued leading Cecile, providing explanations about each room along the way. This is the Room of Glory, here is the Room of Blessing, and over here is the Room of Prayer, and so on. The explanations seemed never-ending, and Cecile's nodding became increasingly half-hearted. They continued walking in this manner for two hours until, finally, the attendants came to a halt.

"Have we reached our destination?"

"This is only the beginning."

The attendant's response left Cecile feeling faint. What kind of room tour doesn't conclude after two hours of walking? Her legs began to ache, and the weariness from last night's ordeal compounded her fatigue.

"I shall explore the rooms by myself. You may all depart."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

Once the attendants left, Cecile surveyed the space designated as her room.

"Is this a palace?" she murmured aloud.

In name, it was a room, but to reach the main living area, she had to traverse through five doors. Beyond the living room, a beautifully adorned garden sprawled endlessly. In the garden, swans swam gracefully in a pond. Rabbits hopped over to drink from the pond, while deer grazed nearby. It was a truly picturesque scene.

"Being the empress truly has its advantages," she muttered. After feasting her eyes upon the serene view for a while, Cecile made her way to the bed.

Tired.

She had wrestled with the emperor until morning. The encounter had been so intense that, as dawn broke, she could no longer muster a cry. Though the pain had slightly abated, her throat still felt scratchy. Cecile massaged her throat for a moment before noticing a plate of fruit by her bedside. She reached out and plucked a ripe cluster of grapes, popping one into her mouth. The cool berry burst on her tongue, filling her mouth with a refreshing sweetness. Fruits always delighted her, and she was glad she could enjoy them every day now.

So delicious.

Eyes still shut, Cecile savored another grape.

But this bliss will only last as long as I am alive.

She reminisced about the assassins from the previous night. Even if the emperor had no intention of killing her, she remained in a precarious position.

"Throughout my journey from Navitan, I was consumed by anger and resentment, gritting my teeth. And yet..."

Now, she felt utterly indifferent toward Navitan and all that it represented. In the span of a single day, numerous unforeseen events had unfolded, yet she found herself at peace after enduring them. Why, though? What had precipitated this change? She contemplated her transformation for some time before succumbing to sleep, unaware of the passage of time.

* * *

Cecile awoke to the gentle touch of someone's hand. Their fingers hovered near her forehead before tracing down her face. The tickling sensation caused Cecile to furrow her brow and shake her head. Undeterred, the fingers continued their journey down her neck and onto her shoulders. They began massaging her nape with slow, deliberate motions, eliciting contented sounds from Cecile. Though she couldn't discern the identity of the person, they seemed to know exactly where she needed relief.

"...I wish I could experience this every day," she murmured, still half-asleep, inadvertently voicing her heartfelt desire.

In response, a voice whispered, "Experience what?"

"Eating an abundance of fruit... Receiving massages for aching muscles..."

"Is that all?"

Somehow, the questioning tone had acquired a hint of sharpness. The hands that had been massaging her hesitated, hovering near her shoulder blades.

Cecile, yearning for more, hesitated briefly before continuing, "And if I had someone to share my nights with... life would be perfect..."

She had never feared solitude, but a sense of emptiness had always accompanied it. When she awoke this morning to find someone beside her, she felt relief rather than surprise. Perhaps she had given the right answer, for the hovering hands resumed their gentle pressure in the desired spots, as if commending her.

"Nnng!"

The blend of pain and relief roused Cecile from her stupor. Wasn't this her room? And that voice... those hands unquestionably belonged to...

"Your Majesty?"

"Are you awake?"

Cecile tried to sit up abruptly upon hearing his voice again, but Estian moved faster. As if anticipating her actions, he pressed a finger to her forehead, gently guiding her back down before lowering his body over hers.

He whispered into her ear, "From what I gathered, it seems you have everything you desire."

"Y-y-yes. I believe so," Cecile nodded eagerly.

"Then why do you worry?"

"Because I sense that the remainder of my life will be brief."

Estian nodded in agreement. "You're not mistaken. It's not widely known, but before you ascended to empress, the ministers of my empire, as well as the royals of other nations, presented women to me. They urged me to take those women, even if they did not become empress."

Cecile perked up, hearing this for the first time.

"The first woman perished the day after she arrived, and the second woman met her demise within a week. The third woman managed to last a month but eventually succumbed. I was responsible for the death of the first woman. I disregarded the second and third, indifferent to whether they lived or died, and someone eventually ended their lives."

Estian paused briefly, allowing Cecile to immediately ask the question that had been gnawing at her. "Did you have relations with all three of them?"

"Is that of greater concern to you than their deaths?"

"Yes," she responded.

Cecile found her own curiosity peculiar. Perhaps her time in the imperial palace was gradually affecting her.

Estian chuckled at Cecile's immediate response. "You have an intriguing perspective."

"It's due to my lack of formal upbringing."

"That does not matter. What matters is that you appeal to me."

"I am honored. But..." Cecile's voice trailed off.

"But?"

"You still haven't answered my question..." Cecile mumbled in a barely audible voice, and this time Estian laughed heartily.

"You're right. I haven't."

"Excellent. How perfect."

Cecile clenched her fists. Before her eyes stood a male lead straight out of a novel. A formidable man who was tender at night, possessing power and wealth. Although he had a few eccentricities, he was her first love.

"What do you mean by perfect? I will accept it as an honor. In any case, I have taken a liking to you. I find no desire to dispose of your lifeless body. That is why I will teach you how to survive in this palace," Estian said as he caressed Cecile's face with his hand. He noticed the fallen bunch of grapes by her side, plucked a grape, and brought it to her lips, slowly feeding it to her. The grape burst in her mouth, releasing its delectable juices.

Cecile's face softened as she savored the sweet taste. Estian observed her expression with satisfaction, licking the nectar off his fingers. He despised grapes. The first poison he ever consumed was concealed within green grapes, much like the one he had just fed Cecile. Yet, in that moment, he couldn't fathom why it tasted so delicious.

He leaned closer to Cecile, whispering in her ear, "Your survival in this imperial palace lies in..."

"...Lies in?" Cecile echoed pitifully, wondering what she could possibly do to survive.

She soon received an utterly unexpected answer.

"To gain enough notoriety to overshadow my reputation."

"What?"

Cecile widened her eyes in surprise. What on earth was he talking about?

* * *

Meanwhile, in the holy kingdom situated at a corner of the continent...

Unlike the other nations on the continent, the holy kingdom was a city-state whose inhabitants devoted themselves to serving God, detached from the secular laws. Deep within the white walls of the holy kingdom lay the sanctuary, where the saintess resided. And even deeper, at the heart of the sanctuary, the saintess, the messenger of God, should have been engaged in prayer.

However, on this day, the saintess stood upon the white castle wall of the kingdom. A cold voice escaped her lips. "So, you have failed."

"Forgive me, Saintess."

A man knelt before the saintess, bowing his head.

The saintess shook her head in response to his apology, saying, "This was not the final opportunity. We still have infinite chances."

There was an enigmatic glint in the saintess's eyes.

"Opportunities for this world to follow its 'intended path.'"

"Everything will unfold as you have foreseen, Saintess."

"Go back. I will summon you again once you have recovered."

"Understood."

The man withdrew, leaving the saintess alone. She began muttering to herself, "Damn it. Why can't any of these fools accomplish a simple task?"

If anyone had been present to hear her, they might have fainted. Who would have imagined that the most virtuous person in the world would utter crude words from the secular realm so naturally?

The saintess continued to grumble. "Why did I end up possessing the saintess instead of the villainess? This girl is burdened with so many restrictions! She can't afford to make any careless mistakes!"

In a fit of anger, the saintess clenched her fists and struck the air. Suddenly, blue cracks appeared in the air where nothing should have been. These cracks were part of the holy kingdom's barrier, which served to protect the saintess. However, the barrier also prevented the saintess from leaving the kingdom.

The saintess gazed at the barrier, muttering to herself. "He is my male lead. Mine, I say."

She gnashed her teeth. She was a writer—an author who had written the novel 'A Villainess for the Tyrant' in some other part of the universe. She had poured all her preferences into the male lead of her book, Tyrant Estian. Handsome, well-built, brooding, haunted by a painful past, the emperor with black hair and black eyes, and, as a random quirk, she vaguely recalled making him hate grapes.

The novel's plot was simple. The female lead would possess the body of Cecile, the empress, and Estian, who had shown no interest in his wife until then, would suddenly become intrigued by her transformation. They would eventually fall in love and live happily ever after.

Thus, when the author woke up to find herself in this world and discovered that it was her creation, she cried tears of joy. But when she realized she had possessed the body of the saintess, she wept in anguish.

My novel, my male lead—how did it all become someone else's?