Collapse
When Joshua became emperor, what lay before him was not a gleaming throne but an endless chain of tribulations. No matter how much of a genius he was, he was only twenty-two. Lacking in political experience, he was tossed about this way and that. The nobles' blatant checks on his power. The citizens' suspicious glares, whispering that he'd killed the emperor. Which was true, but still. Everything mocked him.
Yet in the end, he stood at the pinnacle. Crushing all resistance, Joshua reached the summit through his own strength. Power became entirely his. At the empire's peak, there was only him.
At the height of his power, Joshua briefly fell into ennui. But now, he had found his path.
...Just a little further, and it'll be mine.
Human greed knows no bounds. Having seized power, Joshua grew covetous of something else: true strength. For real power ultimately stems from might.
Joshua was already a 9th Circle mage. His authority and mana surpassed all others. He was near perfection in every way.
But only near.
The 10th Circle. Before that impossibly lofty wall, Joshua hurled himself again and again. It was too high to surmount, yet tantalizingly within reach to abandon. He repeated the cycle: challenge, collapse, rise. It was maddening.
Just a little higher... and I could become a god!
Not some wordplay deity or warm presence answering prayers. What Joshua craved was a god to part seas, shift mountains, make even Hell's demons tremble. Like the mythical founding emperor.
I've done it... what kind of god am I?
But in the end, he gave up. Or rather, he simply couldn't endure any longer. Dozens of failures. Hundreds of recreations. Thousands of calculations—all culminating in repeated despair.
In the end... I can't do it without that.
Joshua soon realized his limit.
Without the Omangseong Blessing, I can never become a god.
He accepted the fact cleanly. Joshua plunged into debauchery. Ennui had set in once more. His days grew monotonous. Sparring, hunts, revelries, the arena, piano, swordplay—everything bored him.
"Your Majesty, Her Imperial Highness the Princess has arrived."
And then, the anomaly struck.
Yulia Hesenia Stella.
That was how Elizabeth declared her name. When Elizabeth haughtily announced it, the guards first sneered. How many fakes had impersonated Yulia Hesenia Stella before? Succeed, and she'd be the emperor's sister—basking in wealth and glory. They assumed this young lady was just another impostor.
But as they faced her longer, their smirks hardened.
The gate guards had seen Emperor Joshua's face more than anyone. For years, they'd served him closely, greeting him daily and memorizing every feature. They could sketch it with eyes closed.
Radiant golden hair like sunlight captured. Eyes of crystalline blue, icy yet mystical. Perfectly balanced features evoking a statue sculpted by gods themselves.
And now, a girl with an uncanny resemblance stood before them.
"P-please, follow me. I mean, come with me."
The guard led her into the Imperial Palace. He spoke to the elite guards at the entrance. Hearing the report, they gawked at Elizabeth and summoned more.
Now elite guards escorted her—over ten surrounding her like an honor or a cage.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. Her head spun, her chest burned. Extreme tension surged her blood.
Calm down... you've come this far. You were prepared.
The grand corridor was silent as they walked. The guards flanked her wordlessly.
"This is the place, Your Imperial Highness."
The guard bowed and opened the door. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut.
Creeeak.
She opened them. A lavish room. A young man in imperial regalia. Golden hair, blue eyes. The emperor.
She saw him. He saw her.
They knew instantly. No explanations needed. No words, proof, or certainty. Ah, this person shares my blood.
Their blue gazes locked.
"…."
"…."
How much time passed?
"...All of you, out."
The emperor gestured to everyone but her. Officials and guards filed out of the room.
Thus, in the vast chamber, two golden-haired, blue-eyed figures remained.
Elizabeth said nothing for a long while. Somewhere inside her, she heard a slow, quiet crumbling—like an ancient wall cracking silently.
The emperor strode calmly to the table, fiddling with a coffee cup—not to drink, but restless hands grasping at air. His shock was fleeting. A familiar face, a voice thought forgotten. As emotion welled, he instinctively suppressed it. His face soon feigned serenity.
Eight years. The reunion with his long-sought sister yanked him from seas of boredom. He gazed at the cup, the sky outside, then his sister.
The moment he saw her, Joshua's blood whispered: Your kin stands before you. No verification needed. She was his blood. His full sister. Yulia. Yulia Hesenia Stella.
"Why'd you come back?"
So it began.
"After all these years without a peep."
Elizabeth drew a deep breath and asked, "Am I... really your sister?"
"Why play dumb? Memory loss or something?"
The emperor swept the cup aside and perched on the table's edge. Twiddling his ringed fingers, he grinned.
"You didn't forget your big brother's face after just eight years, did you?"
"…."
"Well, it's been a long time. Can't blame you."
He mused aloud, scrutinizing her. Nearly a decade since he'd seen his sister, and she'd grown exactly as he'd imagined. Glad, awkward. Mixed feelings bloomed.
"But seriously, why now? Hiding for eight years and all."
The emperor asked with genuine curiosity. It baffled him.
"You know why. I planned to use you. Marry you off to some old coot for my power."
He gripped the table with both hands.
"But... no need now. Don't worry. I won't torment you. Long-lost sister, right?"
He chuckled lightly.
"You alone? Where's the guard who brought you?"
"……."
"Say something. Yulia."
Urged by the emperor, Elizabeth looked up.
"There's something I want to confirm."
Her gaze chilled him to the bone.
He clenched his fist unwittingly. "...What?"
"All records on me... and Gert."
This journey wasn't just seeking truth. It was reclaiming herself—from tangled confusion and lies. Amid it, one fact Elizabeth clung to: she was Elizabeth.
She wasn't Yulia. Not some lost daughter of the previous emperor, but Leo Valentine's ordinary girl.
That was her sole anchor. Or so she wanted to believe.
But... she was crumbling.
Hesenia's air, so familiar despite first breath. Gaius's words on her resemblance to imperial blood. The emperor's undeniable likeness. And crucially, her childhood portrait.
"……."
Elizabeth stared blankly at the portrait of a child so like her. The girl smiled, yet it seemed strangely sad. Her younger self—or some stranger.
Joshua kindly obliged. All records on Guard Gert and the abducted Princess Yulia. The portrait was part of them.
Elizabeth pored over every word. First focused, then anxious, finally trembling.
And—
"Ah…."
Her knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor. Strength fled her fingertips. Her mind blanked.
Deep down, she'd hoped: Leo wasn't her real father. Then her forbidden love could claim legitimacy.
Legitimacy. She'd clung to that word, repeating it endlessly.
But hoped or prepared, facing truth shattered everything.
"What's wrong?"
Joshua's voice came from behind. Elizabeth slowly looked up.
"...Nothing."
She answered soullessly. The light in her eyes gone.
"Done? Follow me."
Elizabeth staggered after him unsteadily. Joshua led to the emperors' mausoleum. He stopped at one tomb: Emperor Marcus's.
He toyed with his regalia.
"I was born crown prince and accepted that fate."
He murmured to himself.
"Studied imperial arts from age four, learned magic. Hellish times."
His tone was even, laced with worn anger and defeat.
"But I never quit. Had to become emperor."
Elizabeth wasn't listening. She gripped Elizabeth in her mind. She'd thought it synonymous with herself—unique, definitive.
But if even that name was illusion?
"When Father announced the Senate, I knew. He didn't trust me."
Memories of Dad flashed like a lantern show. Elizabeth, called so tenderly. All lies.
"So I killed him."
Those radiant memories, false... Elizabeth let out a hollow laugh. Or maybe not. She barely knew herself.
"Laugh. Hate me. I killed the man who doted on you."
Joshua turned to her. She was off—kneeling blankly after records, now this limp smile. Like a broken doll: eerie, pitiable.
For such a sister, Joshua decided on a gift. Power existed for this.
"I'll give you something special."
He grabbed her wrist and moved. Elizabeth didn't meet his eyes. She faced her inner self: identity of fake memories. Relationships built thereon. Love, respect, trust—and Leo. How he'd gazed, embraced her so tenderly. All connected. Memories wheeled emptily in her head.
They arrived at the imperial treasury, near the mausoleum.
Slash. Joshua smeared palm blood on the door. It opened.
Mountains of worldly treasures piled within.
"Pick one you like."
But she saw nothing. Treasures mere backdrop.
"Too many to choose? I'll pick."
Joshua rummaged, pulling items.
"Dress from torn fairy wings. Pretty glow, huh?"
"Compass tracks foes. Add their blood; needle points."
"And this…."
He drew a cloak. Bright purple, gold-trimmed, star-studded lining like the cosmos—and stars moving like real sky.
"Founding emperor's cloak."
Joshua eyed it wistfully.
"Can't wear without Omangseong. Useless junk."
He smacked his lips, set it down, moved on.
The cloak twitched toward Elizabeth. She didn't notice.
Joshua went deepest. A book floated midair.
"Know what emperors historically staked lives to protect?"
She didn't care.
"This. Starlight. Founding emperor's secret spells."
He snatched Starlight.
"Hm…."
Stared piercingly. His 9th Circle owed much to it, genius or not.
"Take it. I've mastered it."
He tossed it to Elizabeth.
"You're blood kin; got some talent at least."
"…."
"While at it, let's check. How great's your gift?"
He beckoned; a crystal orb flew to his hand.
"Mana road orb. Touch; shows inside."
He placed her still hand on it.
"Let's see…."
He peered eagerly.
Then, Omangseong manifested.
Something in Joshua's expression snapped.
"…."
Slowly, so slowly, he turned to gaze at Elizabeth.