Chapter 1
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: A Shameful Dawn Death
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In the weary dawn, I died while jerking off.
The cause of death: overwork.
Even in my exhaustion, I'd pounded out three rounds a day before passing out. That was the culprit.
The monitor screen still played a sex video of a hung black guy railing a white woman.
A porn comic glowed on the smartphone clutched in my hand.
For one man's final moments, it was just plain ridiculous.
An embarrassing self-portrait. A hilarious memory.
"...Young master. Lord Niu. Time to wake up. If you sleep too long, your back will ache."
A familiar woman's voice reached me.
The shameful scene vanished like a TV screen going dark, leaving only blackness.
I slowly opened my eyes.
A familiar ceiling. A familiar woman's face.
She was white from head to toe, her clothes straining against a brutally voluptuous body.
It was the wet nurse who'd cared for me since I was ten.
"Ah... Wet Nurse."
"Yes, it's me, the Wet Nurse. Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah. Is it time to get up already?"
"My goodness. Lunchtime's almost here."
Already?
I'd closed my eyes right on schedule without a hint of fatigue, yet I'd slept way too long.
"It's that late already?"
"Yes, it is. Come on, up you get."
I stretched with a massive yawn and slid out of bed.
The Wet Nurse's massive tits pressed firmly against my arm as she supported me.
Damn, this is torture.
Part of me wanted to grab those huge jugs right then and squeeze them dry.
To tease her areolas and swirl my tongue around her stiff nipples.
As a chronic fapper, filthy fantasies flooded my mind, but I held back.
You can't force yourself on someone who's always been good to you.
"Get ready to head out, then we'll go see Your Majesty right away. Even if we're late, you still need to pay your respects."
The Wet Nurse beamed and bowed at the waist.
Her heavy, plump tits swayed pendulously—a sight to behold.
My current status: the only male imperial of the Ion Empire.
Direct son of the Emperor, no less.
Compared to my past life, this was a massive upgrade. Which meant I had to be extra careful.
Easy to turn into a desire-swollen tyrant wastrel.
Not gonna let that happen.
To enjoy what you have for long, you gotta master self-control.
This was training for that.
The Wet Nurse led me by the hand as I changed clothes.
Her touch was meticulous, brimming with affection as she washed and dressed me.
Even my birth mother, the Emperor, showered me with excessive love—but I spent more time with the Wet Nurse.
She felt closer, more familial.
"There, all done. Anything uncomfortable? Or not to your liking?"
The Wet Nurse peered into the mirror before me.
A ten-year-old me in formal attire stood side by side with her reflection.
"Nah, it's good. Thanks."
"Shall we go see Your Majesty? She's been waiting anxiously for you, Lord Niu."
Memories flashed: as a newborn, hours with my face buried in her breasts.
Even just a month ago, drifting off in her embrace...
She overflowed with maternal love. It fit.
"Where's Mother?"
"I heard she's handling affairs in the office right now. That's where we should go."
"Alright, let's head there."
I left the vast, opulent room and walked the corridor.
Ceiling frescoes adorned overhead, white chandeliers dangling.
Platinum-clad halls lined with huge glass windows and sculptures.
Pure extravagance and splendor.
"......"
Servants and servant girls walking the halls bowed silently at the sight of me.
Familiar faces now.
"Prince, did you sleep well?"
A few maids in white aprons mingled among them.
They offered gentle smiles and greetings instead of silence.
Most maids were from noble houses.
They carried a touch more poise when addressing royalty.
Prince, Lord Niu, Crown Prince, Your Highness...
All pointed to me. All correct.
"Yeah. Morning."
Most were older, so casual speech felt awkward—but necessary.
They got extremely uneasy with formal honorifics.
So I reserved polite speech for older royals or titled nobles.
And I always returned greetings, no matter how perfunctory.
The palace was so massive, you met tons of people just wandering.
No wonder they said you didn't need extra exercise.
We walked quite a ways before stopping at a black door.
Jet base, ornate platinum threadwork for flair.
"We see the Crown Prince."
The guarding man saluted fist to heart.
Emperor's protector and doorkeeper.
"You've had a tough watch. Mother's inside?"
"No, Your Highness. Her Majesty ordered the doors opened the moment you arrived. Shall I?"
"Yeah, thanks."
He nodded and swung the doors wide.
They never nitpicked my skipping "Your Majesty" or "Emperor."
Creeeak. I nodded to the knight and stepped through.
The Wet Nurse, of course, followed.
The office was room-sized for most homes, yet lavishly appointed.
Ornate, but not cluttered.
"My darling boy is finally here!"
In the center.
A woman on an elaborate sofa lit up, arms wide.
Short navy hair. Sleeveless top and hot pants.
Way too provocative for an empire's Emperor.
"Yes, Mother. Did you sleep well?"
Playing the bright, innocent kid, I rushed into her embrace.
Like with the Wet Nurse, it wasn't just a hug—I sank right in.
"No, I tossed and turned without my baby to hold. So tonight, sleep by Mother's side."
She whispered sweetly.
Her adoration poured out, utterly helpless against my cuteness.
Iron-blooded tyrant. Massacre queen.
Worlds away from her image in Sex Survivor.
Sex Survivor was what folks called a bullet hell adult game.
Player character deploys bullet patterns.
Dodge incoming foes and mow them down with those patterns. Simple.
Auto-firing barrages.
Move the character to evade encirclement, tap the ultimate occasionally.
That was all the controls.
Average stage: 10-15 minutes.
Fuck scenes galore, no real story.
Current Emperor Orpheus was the final boss—a cold, cruel tyrant.
Even her sparse dialogue hammered that home.
But right now? Not a trace.
Cold to outsiders, wise and benevolent ruler.
And I was her only son.
"Niu."
Orpheus called my name tenderly.
"Yes, Mother."
"I want to hold you forever, let you do whatever you please."
Shadow crossed her face.
She wished it, but couldn't.
"It's fine. You do it out of love."
"Good heavens... Only an angel could say that. I'm so happy you're my son."
She hugged tight, lips to my forehead.
Not enough—she peppered my cheeks, face, lips with light kisses, leaving faint marks.
Hot and overwhelming, but the love felt good.
"Don't worry, I'm not assigning anything harsh. You're still little."
"Then what?"
"You'll learn to think and reach conclusions. You'll see soon enough—just wait."
Orpheus stood, still cradling me.
This wasn't kid stuff; I felt like an infant.
"To the Interrogation Hall. Open the doors."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The knight outside flung them open on cue.
Interrogation Hall... Someone screwed up bad?
Exactly what it sounded: questioning criminals.
Like a courtroom, but more open torture chamber, from what I'd heard.
Taking her son there?
Imperial education was next-level.
I arrived at the Interrogation Hall in Mother's soft embrace.
Platform for the accused. Judge's dais overlooking.
Layout mirrored modern courtrooms.
Near the platform, a bench held about ten attendants who'd followed us.
"Can you see well?"
"Yes, Mother. But... what are we doing here?"
"You know bad deeds earn punishment? This is where we decide how to punish one."
She spoke simply, like to a kindergartener.
"Ah, got it."
I forced a bright smile and nod.
Sweet consideration, but the babying embarrassed me.
"You even know words like 'understand'? So clever!"
Orpheus murmured in surprise, then smiled with her eyes.
Praise like that could launch shattered self-esteem to the stars.
"Bring in the criminal."
Doors opened at her decree. People entered.
Three in total.
Knights in uniform flanking a man in the middle.
Weird.
Worn clothes, but soft hands and face. No laborer's calluses or scars.
"Make him kneel."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The knights mounted the platform, slamming his shoulders down without hesitation.
From both sides.
"Urk...!"
The apparent criminal grimaced and crumpled.
Superhuman strength crushing him—had to hurt.
"First question. What do you make of that criminal? His status? Occupation? Crime? Think."
Orpheus turned to me.
Her eyes shone like grandparents awaiting grandkid antics.
I stared hard at the criminal.
"Hm... Doesn't look like hard labor. Hands and feet aren't rough like a gardener's, no injuries."
"Oh! Yes. Next?"
"Clean hands mean no manual work. So merchant, noble, or noble kin."
"Excellent. Anything else?"
Mother kissed my cheek as she asked.
I glanced away—her face screamed too cute, can't handle.
Intense.
"Hm......"
I looked back at the criminal.
He groaned, buying me time to sort my thoughts.
"And Mother bringing me here means he's no ordinary crook. Noble or family. Merchant, maybe a trade magnate... Right?"
"My son is brilliant!"
A rough exclamation burst from her soft lips.
Nailed it, luckily.
"Just as you thought, he's a provincial viscount's second son. So what crime dragged him here?"
Noble kids got near-noble privileges.
Not full rights, though.
What could tank one like this?
Not many options, even rushing.
"Probably... something vile against his family for the title. Or colluding with foreigners."
"Spot on. Perfect read—and no one's taught you this. How?"
Orpheus squeezed me, rubbing cheeks.
Breath short, but her crushing tits made lungs ache more.
"Precisely, he tried killing his father for the title. That's patricide—a grave sin."
She finally eased up.
Flattened lungs expanded, gulping fresh air.
Ah, living.
"What? For real?"
This time, genuine shock—no acting.
"I'm Busy With the Throne Succession" meme flashed.
"Indeed. But you sussed it without a word. Impressive."
A pleased smile graced Orpheus's lips briefly.
Then icy glare at the criminal.
"Patricide attempted and failed. Sentence: execution. Drag to the execution ground now. Carry out immediately."
Patricide.
Happens even in modern times, but feeling it firsthand?
Dazed. Stinging.
Reality's too spicy.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The waiting knights responded low and firm.
Hauled the criminal away.
Relief—I wasn't judging.
Orpheus watched impassively, then rose.
"Now, to the garden. A guest awaits."