"P-please… spare me… please!"
The deepest and darkest slums of the Empire.
The underground hideout of a human-trafficking organization had turned into a living hell.
Across the red pools soaking the floor, grotesque corpses lay strewn everywhere.
One smashed into the wall, one with its neck snapped,
and lumps of flesh so mangled their original forms could no longer be recognized.
At the center of the massacre stood a single man.
Between the gaps of his mask, his eyes—bloodshot red—were spewing out a bizarre madness.
He lightly lifted the organization's last remaining boss with one hand.
"Kuhk—! Gghk!"
Suspended in midair, the boss flailed like a child.
"I-I'll give you money! As much as you want! You can take all my assets… so please, just spare my life!"
The boss's face had gone deathly pale with fear.
A monster who had slaughtered dozens of subordinates all by himself.
Before power that far surpassed the category of humanity, he pissed himself and begged.
"I don't need money, though? What I need is—"
The man tilted his head crookedly.
The eyes visible beyond the mask gleamed coldly.
"J-just say it… anything!"
"In that case."
Crunch!
Along with a horrifying sound of bones being crushed, the boss's neck twisted grotesquely.
The man mercilessly slammed the limp corpse onto the floor.
Ding.
[System: Kill complete.]
[Target: Villain (Grade B)]
[Madness level greatly reduced. (70% >>> 15%)]
A blue message window floated in midair.
The man roughly tore off his mask and threw it aside.
"Hoo… now I finally feel like I can live."
The whispers of madness gnawing at his mind vanished.
'Damn possession life, year one. Survival successful today as well.'
The man let out a deep sigh, shaking the blood from his hands.
He was Darcor, the emperor infamous as the worst tyrant in imperial history.
'Everyone else levels up through status windows and lives easy when they get possessed.'
For some reason, I came saddled with a madness that drives me insane if I don't kill people,
and of all bodies to possess, it had to be the emperor branded the worst tyrant in the romance-fantasy novel I used to enjoy.
The only saving grace was that the more trash I cleaned up, the faster the madness subsided.
Thanks to that, nightly garbage disposal had become my routine.
"Cleanup complete. Let's clock out."
Darcor muttered while indifferently looking down at the corpses.
The outer walls of the imperial palace are called impregnable.
A fortress guarded like iron by hundreds of elite knights and dense magical devices.
But that was only when measured by human standards.
Whooo—
A fierce night wind brushed past the castle walls.
"Huh? Didn't something just pass by?"
One drowsy guard jerked his head up.
"Dreaming in your sleep? What could possibly be up this high?"
At his colleague's scolding, the guard regripped his spear with an uneasy expression.
Unaware that the emperor himself was clinging to the darkness atop the distant spire.
'Without the insane physical abilities I got as a perk, I wouldn't have even dared.'
If I were caught by someone right now?
A murderer-tyrant ending was not on the menu.
Darcor swallowed dryly, putting strength into his fingertips.
[Skill: Steps of Dawn activated.]
Flash.
His body blurred like mist,
and in an instant, he was sucked in beyond the window of the emperor's bedchamber.
Click.
Just as he was about to climb over the familiar window—
"…"
The taut tension drifting from the corridor beyond the door pricked Darcor's ears.
"Sir Edel. Step aside. These are urgent approval documents."
"Turn back, Sir Dawit."
The corridor before the emperor's bedchamber at dawn.
A place that should have been steeped only in silence now hosted an unwelcome guest.
The aged chief chamberlain Dawit, long white beard drooping, was sweating bullets as he held a stack of documents.
Blocking his path stood Edel, the escort knight, her blue hair shining coldly.
"Withdraw. His Majesty is currently resting."
She raised her sheathed sword and firmly blocked his advance.
"But! This concerns urgent countermeasures for the southern drought—"
"Can you bear the crime of disturbing His Majesty's slumber?"
There was frost-sharp resolve in Edel's voice.
The strongest sword of the imperial family, and the only aide the emperor allowed at his side.
Even the chief chamberlain could not help but shrink before her presence.
But Edel herself was just as anxious inside.
'Please, Your Majesty… where are you?'
Her grip on the sword hilt was slick with sweat.
She knew.
That the bedchamber was completely empty.
Then—
Crash! Baaang!
A loud sound of something violently shattering exploded from inside the bedchamber.
The chamberlain's face instantly turned white.
"H-hiiik! I-it's starting again… His madness is flaring up!"
The tyrant's madness.
Rumors that the emperor suffered nightly fits and smashed everything around him were rampant throughout the palace.
Edel's eyebrow twitched slightly, but—
she seized the timing perfectly and spoke calmly.
"As you heard, if you enter now, I cannot guarantee your life."
"I-I'll take my leave then! I'll return another time!"
The chamberlain bolted without looking back.
Afraid that stray sparks might fly and take his head with them.
The corridor returned to silence.
Only after confirming that the chamberlain's figure had completely vanished did Edel let out a small sigh.
"…You should come back earlier. Really."
Creak.
She opened the tightly shut bedchamber door and entered.
In the darkness-settled room, a single candle flickered precariously.
"Ah, seriously, why is the window so damn slippery?"
Shattered glass fragments littered the floor,
and the great tyrant Darcor was crouched down, clutching his shin.
As he grumbled and tossed aside his blood-soaked mask,
a face smeared with sweat and blood was revealed.
"Are you injured anywhere?"
Edel locked the door out of habit and approached.
"No. If I were injured, you'd nag me to death."
Darcor replied with a crooked grin.
"Exactly… how many times have I told you I'd accompany you?"
"No. If the emperor and his escort knight disappear together every night, who wouldn't get suspicious?
You stay here and make the alibi."
"If you die out there, I become unemployed."
"Such pretty wording."
No one in the empire knew Darcor was a possessor.
But the fact that he was cursed to go insane unless he killed every night—
that secret was known only to Edel, his childhood friend and escort knight who had grown up with him.
"…The smell of blood is overwhelming. Where did you go digging around today?"
She picked up the black clothes strewn on the floor.
A damp, heavy sensation.
Soaked thoroughly with someone's blood.
Her brow naturally furrowed, yet she clicked her tongue and presented the warm towel she had prepared in advance.
"Just a pretty big garbage dump. Burn that quickly."
Darcor answered shamelessly as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Edel's hands touched his back, hardened with solid muscle.
Swipe. Swipe.
Only the rough sound of the towel wiping away blood filled the room.
In this vast empire, the only time Darcor could remove his mask and breathe.
And the only friend with whom he shared his secret.
From behind him, Edel asked in a low voice.
"Has the madness settled down a bit?"
"Yeah. I'll hold out for a few days."
"That's a relief. But how long will you keep doing something this dangerous? If you're ever discovered—"
The hand wiping away blood trembled slightly.
"I won't be discovered. As long as you and I keep our mouths shut, no one will know."
"…"
Darcor let out a small chuckle and turned around.
As if to reassure her, he roughly ruffled Edel's neatly arranged bangs.
"At least this is better than me going crazy and killing innocent people, right?"
—Smack!
"Ow! Why'd you hit me?!"
"Do not touch my hair. Blood doesn't wash out easily."
With a stern face, Edel slapped his hand away and turned him back around.
Unlike her rough handling, the warmth of the towel felt unusually hot today.
The next morning.
The imperial audience chamber was sunk in heavy silence.
A throne adorned with gold.
Darcor sat slanted, chin propped on his hand.
'Ah… my shoulders are stiff. I should've asked Edel to massage them.'
Aftereffects of slashing all night.
His eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, his shoulders felt like stones were piled on them.
But regardless of his inner thoughts,
the ministers below the throne were drenched in cold sweat, watching his mood.
'His Majesty's hollow eyes… he must be in an extremely foul temper!'
The Minister of Public Order opened his mouth with a trembling voice.
"Y-Your Majesty… there is something to report.
Last night, the human-trafficking organization controlling the slums was completely annihilated."
He swallowed dryly and continued.
"According to witnesses, an unidentified assailant dressed in black single-handedly slaughtered dozens of members."
The chamber erupted into murmurs.
"Such a terrifying monster in the empire…"
"I fear for the capital's security."
"What in the world was the guard doing?"
The ministers buzzed with fear of the unknown monster.
Meanwhile, Darcor was suppressing a yawn.
'I did it, and instead of thanking me, they're cursing me.'
He waved his hand irritably.
"So? If the trash got cleaned up, isn't that a good thing?"
"H-However, Your Majesty! The method was far too brutal—"
"Quiet."
Darcor muttered flatly,
looking down at the ministers with hollow eyes.
"Whether trash lives or dies is none of my concern. Stop making noise and move on to the next agenda.
I'm tired."
He pressed his temples as he spoke.
The ministers exchanged furtive glances.
'Tsk. As expected, His Majesty has not the slightest concern for the people.'
'Look at those hollow eyes and slumped shoulders. What did he do in the bedchamber all night again?'
'They say there was a loud crash at dawn. He must have tortured some maid all night.'
Outside the walls, an unknown monster roams.
Inside sits a mad tyrant who delights in blood and torture.
'The empire's future is truly bleak.'
The ministers shook their heads in despair.
'Ah… hurry up and finish so I can sleep.'
Yet inside the tyrant's head, things were absurdly peaceful.
Unaware of misunderstandings piling mountain upon mountain, Darcor swallowed another yawn.
"Next agenda item. Regarding the proposed tax increase in the southern region—"
Marquis Balgrak, the southern powerbroker, stepped forward with an arrogant expression.
In the original novel, a textbook sycophant who commits every corruption imaginable before stabbing the emperor in the back at a crucial moment.
"Your Majesty! With monster appearances increasing in the south, taxes are woefully insufficient.
We must raise taxes by 20% to strengthen national defense—"
A system window appeared before Darcor's eyes.
Ding.
[Checking character information.]
[Identified as an extra-type character.]
[Attempting to retrieve character information…]
Diiing.
[Character information successfully retrieved!]
[Name: Balgrak Roa]
[Traits: Greed (S), Embezzlement (B), Flattery (A), Backstabbing (S)]
[Loyalty: 10]
[Notes: Hiding 50,000 gold in embezzled taxes in a secret vault inside the underground cellar.]
The corner of Darcor's mouth twisted upward.
'Taxes are insufficient?'
Just vomit out the money in your belly and I could plate the walls with gold.
"You really like money, don't you."
At Darcor's low remark, Marquis Balgrak flinched.
"I-It is for the empire, Your Majesty! I speak only out of loyalty—"
"Loyalty."
The marquis clutched his chest and put on a dramatic show.
Finding it ridiculous, Darcor lightly tapped the armrest of the throne with his finger.
Crack.
"….."
He failed to control his strength.
Perhaps his combat-mode muscles hadn't powered down yet after last night.
The pure-gold armrest shattered and clattered across the floor,
and silence fell over the chamber.
"H-hiiik!"
Marquis Balgrak screamed and flattened himself on the floor.
Fragments of the broken armrest skidded to a stop right before his nose.
'The tyrant has finally drawn his blade!'
'This is what happens if you displease him!'
The ministers were plunged into terror.
Everyone trembled, unable to even breathe.
Meanwhile, Darcor was clicking his tongue inwardly.
'Damn it. That was comfortable. What a waste…'
To hide his embarrassment, Darcor hardened his expression even further.
Then he recited the information from the system window verbatim.
"For the empire, you say… were those 50,000 gold bars piled in the secret safe behind your underground wine cellar also gathered for the empire?"
"H-How do you know that?!"
Marquis Balgrak's eyes bulged.
A perfect secret hidden so thoroughly not even his wife knew.
How could an emperor who never left the palace know of a magically sealed secret space?
'Don't tell me… the emperor's shadows were watching?'
Cold sweat ran down the marquis's spine.
He thought the emperor was just a simple tyrant.
Had he known everything all along and merely pretended otherwise?
What kind of terrifying intelligence network lay hidden behind that indifferent face?
Darcor looked at the trembling marquis and added flatly.
"So. In light of that loyalty, I'll let it slide this once. Return the money to the treasury immediately."
"Th-Thank you for your mercy! I will offer it at once!"
"And if you pull one more stunt—"
Darcor leaned in and whispered at the marquis's ear.
"Even if you're a marquis, there won't be a second time."
"Hiiik! Boundless gratitude, Your Majesty!"
Marquis Balgrak repeatedly slammed his head into the floor as if having a seizure.
The imperial garden in the afternoon was peaceful.
The scent of blooming roses and drowsy sunlight,
a tranquil moment settling in.
Darcor had come out for a walk to clear his head—
when his steps suddenly stopped.
Beyond the rose vines,
a woman in a pure white dress.
Golden hair and lake-blue eyes.
The novel's heroine—
Empress Elena.
"…"
But when Elena's eyes met Darcor's,
all color drained from her face.
To her, the man before her was not her husband.
He was the enemy who ruined her family and forcibly took her.
She turned pale and staggered backward.
"Y-Your Majesty…"
A thin, trembling voice.
Just as Darcor was about to awkwardly greet her—
Ding.
[Warning! Madness level becoming unstable again.]
[It has been half a day since you last saw blood.]
[Killing intent increasing.]
Pain exploded in his head without warning.
Darcor frowned unconsciously.
He pressed his temples hard against the surging agony.
'Damn it, why already?'
He couldn't manage his expression.
'Because of me… he's angry. He must want to kill me.'
But in Elena's eyes,
that distorted expression was interpreted differently.
Her legs trembled in fear.
Then—
Darcor's senses sharpened.
Not just from the headache.
From the dense trees behind Elena,
he felt an alien presence.
Someone was targeting the empress.
'Which bastard dares, in my territory?'
Darcor strode toward Elena.
Step. Step.
Seeing him approach,
Elena couldn't even breathe.
The killing intent pouring from his eyes was unmistakable.
It was clearly aimed at her.
'I'm going to die… he's finally going to kill me…'
Elena shut her eyes tight, shoulders shaking.
"Y-Your Majesty!"
Whoosh—
Darcor's rough hand snatched her waist.
"Kyaaak!"
"Stay still."
Shiiiik!
A dagger flew from the darkness, aimed straight at Elena's throat.