Chapter 35: I am the emperor🌳👶🏻

The magnificent palace symbolized the heart of imperial power, and the Round Table Conference was the epitome of the emperor’s supreme authority.

But that was in the past—ever since Emilia left, everything had fallen into ruin.

Emperor Gerald, now escorted under guard, wore a simple white shirt and black trousers, stripped of his usual majestic aura.

Though he bore no shackles or handcuffs, heavily armored noble knights flanked him, their black greatswords exuding immense pressure.

Walking down the all-too-familiar corridor, the grandeur of a thousand-year empire surrounded him.

Every brick, every corner was steeped in history, breathtakingly beautiful.

Urged forward, his steps were heavy.

To ease his tension and fear, he gazed at his surroundings, knowing deep down he could never part with this opulent life—or with Emilia’s devoted service.

He had fought his entire life just to revel in such luxury.

But… there was no need to fear a trial, right?

After all, the Round Table was filled with his own people.

How could they possibly let him fall?

They were his wings, his loyal companions.

Together, they had faced life and death—nothing could surpass their bond.

This was his confidence, unshakable confidence.

Why was he even thinking about this?

Perhaps he was a bit panicked, constantly reassuring himself in his mind.

He told himself there was no need to worry—just let things unfold naturally.

This was likely just a warning from the nobles.

After all, they needed him to take the fall.

He was still useful, still valuable.

He just had to endure, to hold on until Emilia returned and dealt with these nobles once and for all.

As the grand doors of the Round Table chamber slowly opened, his thoughts came to a halt.

The imposing room radiated an air of oppression and reluctance.

Instinctively scanning the room, he saw familiar faces and felt a wave of relief.

His racing heart calmed, and he inwardly shouted, It’s fine, it’s fine.

He had worried the nobles might pull some tricks or schemes, but now it seemed he had overestimated them.

You’re raising a tiger that will bite you later. Just wait.

Unbeknownst to him, the women he considered his allies sat around the Round Table, some too ashamed to meet his gaze, others with heads bowed.

They had been threatened by the nobles, after all—especially since they were beautiful and had lost their power.

You wouldn’t want…

You wouldn’t want…

You don’t want…

Under a barrage of coercion and temptation, their fragile bonds of camaraderie and intimacy naturally crumbled.

Besides, they stood on the side of justice—clinging to personal loyalties would be a betrayal of the people.

In truth, their efforts during this time had been enough to justify their loyalty to Gerald.

But because of him, they had endured immense pressure, their futures bleak, their power gradually stripped away.

Even they and their families had faced persecution and exploitation.

And the nobles offered so much more than the weak and powerless Gerald ever could—in every sense.

Everything here seemed to repeat itself.

Emilia had been betrayed before, and now Gerald was merely getting what he deserved.

The room was so silent that breathing echoed in their ears until a noble spoke with a smug grin, clapping to draw attention, ready to enjoy the spectacle.

“Alright, let’s decide whether Emperor Gerald will face trial. To avoid unnecessary trouble, let’s make this quick. Everyone’s time is precious, and we can’t afford to waste it.”

“…”

Gerald struggled to stay calm, standing expressionless in the center, illuminated by the surrounding lights.

He already knew the outcome—acquittal, of course.

What else could it be?

But the result defied his expectations, leaving him wide-eyed in shock.

A resolute yet hesitant voice rang out, as if reason and rationality were at odds.

But it was spoken nonetheless.

“Guilty. Emperor Gerald, you fabricated evidence out of selfish desire, drove Lady Emilia away, and neglected your duties in your daily conduct. You treated the empire as your personal playground, indulging in debauchery. The empire’s downfall is entirely your fault—not ours, not the nobles’.”

“Agreed, guilty.”

“I agree as well.”

…

Several female voices echoed in agreement.

He knew those voices all too well—heard countless times in intimate moments.

Now, they pierced his chest like invisible swords, leaving him breathless.

Screaming and shouting, he lost all composure, his hair disheveled, as he cursed these treacherous women.

“What are you doing?! I’m your man, your emperor, your sun! You can’t do this to me… I’ve never wronged you! Why?!”

Tears streamed down his face, his heart unable to bear this devastating outcome.

He collapsed, rolling on the floor in a tantrum.

The earlier blows hadn’t sunk in, and now this new strike shattered him.

Having lived a life of ease, his mentality crumbled, and he thought of Emilia, his “mother,” wishing she were here.

He was lost in fantasy, imagining.

But the nobles rudely interrupted his reverie, clearly pleased with the outcome.

With a wave, they signaled their men.

“Take this Gerald down to the dungeon to await his trial. Let the people vent their anger—it’ll help with the taxes.”

“Since everyone agrees, there’s nothing more to say. It’s a rare consensus in the empire—a great occasion. From now on, Gerald is stripped of his imperial title.”

The noble led the applause, soon joined by enthusiastic clapping.

The women of the Round Table exchanged glances, reluctantly joining in.

Once on the nobles’ ship, there was no turning back.

Their paths were sealed.

They watched as Gerald, fallen and undignified, was dragged away like a dead dog.

Clinging to hope, he cast desperate, pleading glances, but they could only offer pity or shame, unable to meet his eyes.

They knew exactly why.

In the dark dungeon, the process was simple: make Gerald confess his crimes.

The nobles valued fairness and justice, after all.

As for the methods, that was none of your concern.

The goal was to restore order to the empire, to bring peace.

And to extract Emilia’s whereabouts.

They knew Gerald and Duke Ole knew, as their actions had been blatant, even flaunted before the nobles.

But they couldn’t touch Duke Ole—nobles don’t cross each other lightly, especially with family ties.

So, naturally, Gerald bore it all.

“Gerald, still think you’re emperor? Are you going to talk or not? Still so stubborn, huh?”

Beaten until his flesh was torn, Gerald hung on a bloodstained wall, his body spread-eagled, his mouth gagged.

He could only whimper.

Tears flowed uncontrollably.

Let me speak!

Take the gag off…