Chapter 1
Chapter 1
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Flower of Evil, Aira
-----------------------------------------------------------------
To me, queens were women who only existed in the media.
Women who wore beautiful crowns adorned with jewels and never lost their dignified grace, no matter the time or place.
That was the image that always came to mind when I thought of a queen.
And recently, I had learned of one such queen.
Aira von Tarantara VIII.
Sharp-eyed readers might have guessed from the name, but she wasn't a real queen. She was a villainous character from the novel *Villain Hunter* that I'd read lately.
That's right.
A villain.
Aira von Tarantara.
In the story, she was a tyrant who could never be called a good queen.
According to the novel's description, Aira was a captivatingly beautiful girl with black hair and black eyes.
A girl with an exceedingly lovely and striking face, but low in the line of succession.
Then one day, her older siblings above her died one after another for various reasons, and suddenly, at the tender age of seventeen, she became queen.
She had seventeen older brothers and sisters—how they all died within a single year was a mystery. The novel didn't dwell on it much.
Because of that, Aira, who had been at the very bottom of the succession order, ended up on the throne as the last remaining heir to the royal family.
What happens when a royal lady, who had lived like a spoiled brat her whole life thinking she'd never ascend the throne, suddenly seizes power?
"Guards, chop off that man's head right now!"
I was witnessing it firsthand, right before my eyes.
"Y-Your Majesty!"
Belmont Douglas, the finance minister who had been earnestly advising that the taxes collected by the royal family were too burdensome and provoking backlash from the lords, looked utterly flustered.
"Your Majesty! Please, just hear me out once—"
Even a spoiled queen like her wouldn't order the execution of someone who had the trust of so many nobles and commoners, would she?
The people watching this unfold were in an uproar.
—Chop off his head?
—For real?
—Ugh, no... Someone stop her!
—Who'd dare say that to this mad queen?
It had been about three years since Aira became queen.
She had issued plenty of bizarre commands up to now, but this was the first time she'd ordered an execution bypassing legal procedures, so the panic was understandable.
—What do we do?
—I don't know. You do it?
—No way. It's not some thief—it's Sir Belmont. How could we behead him?
Even the royal guards were hesitating, hands merely resting on their sword hilts, exchanging glances.
"What are you lot doing? I said chop off his head! If you won't, I'll do it myself."
Unable to bear it any longer, Aira drew a sword from the scabbard of a guard standing beside the throne with a sharp *shing*.
"This chilling sensation... I haven't wielded a sword much since donning the crown. It's been ages."
The razor-sharp blade in Aira's hand hummed eagerly, as if starving for blood.
Now, Aira would sever the old man's neck in a single stroke, her skill rivaling the kingdom's sword masters.
That was the story's progression.
Having tasted murder for the first time here, Aira would go on a rampage, eventually getting deposed and hanged.
That scene of her struggling to her death had been immensely satisfying to me as a reader, but it certainly wouldn't be for the current me.
"Belmont. For daring to speak insolently to your queen, I shall grant you the mercy of atoning with death. So, any last words?"
*Sching*.
Before the blade could rush toward the neck of the prostrate loyal retainer, Aira held the sword to Belmont's throat, giving him time for final words.
"I shall grant you time for last words. For I, Aira von Tarantara VIII, am magnanimous."
"......"
Even as the queen spoke again, Belmont knelt with his head raised, his expression serene. It was the face of one resolved to death.
Lately, I'd seen that expression on quite a few people.
What came from the mouths of such people was usually something like this.
"The glorious five-hundred-year history of the kingdom of Angmar, toyed with by a foolish wench and a demonic monk. I have no face to show my ancestors, so keep my corpse far from their tombs."
"Wh-what?!"
Aira's face twisted in fury.
The gap between her peerless beauty and her crumpling features was so jarring it was terrifying. It sent a chill down my spine.
"Fine. As you wish—I'll tear your corpse to shreds and scatter it as fish food!"
As her sword hand rose high, everyone instinctively sensed the end, squeezing their eyes shut or covering their faces.
They probably imagined the blood of the aged, loyal minister staining the court floor hot.
No one could stop it—they all thought so.
Of course, there was one person in this hellish funeral-parlor-like audience chamber who could halt the queen's rampage.
"Your Majesty."
I spoke up.
The queen's hand, which had been quivering with rage just moments ago, halted abruptly. Frowning, she turned to me and asked,
"What is it, Theo?"
"If I may be so bold, executing Sir Belmont so cleanly like this might not serve as much of a warning. Surely Your wise Majesty knows this."
"......"
I could see the tension drain from the hand gripping the sword.
Good.
For now, I'd prevented Belmont from dying like a dog.
That meant I'd halfway succeeded in averting the rebellion episode sparked by his death, where the nobles would unite.
Queen Aira spoke.
"Theo, my gardener. My one true confidant. Yes. Unlike those other idiots, your words are worth hearing."
"Thank you."
"So, Theo—what reason did you have to halt my execution?"
I could feel the spoiled queen Aira, whom no one could control, lending an ear to me.
At the same time, I clearly sensed the resentment and hatred pouring toward me from the many people in the court. I'm not an idiot.
No helping it.
About a year ago, my soul had possessed this character named 'Theo.'
Theo, the bratty demonic monk who guided Aira's radiant kingdom of Angmar toward ruin from her side. That's me, damn it.
Someone, anyone—explain why I'm in this situation.
But now wasn't the time to receive explanations; it was time to give them.
So, I recited the lines I'd memorized perfectly in my head, preparing for this very moment, speaking them before everyone.
"Finance Minister Belmont. For daring—daring—to defy Her Majesty's absolute authority, and for insulting the royal family by invoking the great history and ancestors of Angmar—"
"Hmm, good. Keep going."
"If Your Majesty were to personally execute this challenger to your authority, this hater of the crown—it wouldn't be punishment, but a reward."
"Dying by my hand is a reward?"
"Indeed. To have one's blood stain Your Majesty's hands—what else could that be but a reward?"
Sophistry, sure enough. But the queen's furrowed brow eased a bit.
"Hmm. Yes. I was thinking the same."
"Truly, such a spur-of-the-moment execution wouldn't serve as a warning to others—and this, Your great and wise Majesty Aira knows better than anyone."
I spoke clearly, like a zealot, enunciating every syllable.
Volume matters, but clear pronunciation is key. It felt awkward at first, but after a year, I'd gotten the hang of it.
Now, I could even gauge Aira's mood while speaking.
She had sheathed the sword, arms crossed, nodding.
"Hmm, indeed. Yes. I thought killing him by chopping off his head was too merciful anyway. So, Theo—keep voicing the thoughts you've read from me."
Read her thoughts? The girl was a blank slate.
I bristled inwardly but held back the curses, pausing a beat until the murmurs died down.
"......"
Let me say it again: that pause is crucial.
It draws everyone's gaze and focus, amplifying your presence—key to dealing with Aira.
It had taken me a full year to figure that out.
I glanced around. The stares fixed on me were grim. I knew what they were thinking without being told.
*Lick the queen's soles, you filthy sycophant—drop dead.* Something like that.
But regretfully, I had no intention of dying nicely.
There was no guarantee that dying here would send me back to my original body from the 21st century.
So, to survive, I spoke.
"Esteemed Your Majesty. I, Theo, know that you summoned Finance Minister Belmont's daughter, Clara, to this court."
"I summoned Belmont's daughter to court?"
Aira echoed as if hearing it for the first time—which she was. Of course she hadn't done any such thing.
But as I snapped my fingers with a *crack*—
Thugs in black robes dragged in a frail blonde girl from somewhere, ripping her clothes to shreds with savage tears.
"Kyaaah!"
"Cl-Clara!"
At the sight, Belmont's face—who'd maintained his steadfast resolve until moments ago—twisted in instant panic.
"Clara!"
It was the face of a man plunged from heaven to hell in a heartbeat, chilling even me to watch.
He never imagined his precious only daughter would be dragged here.
He'd steeled himself for death and hidden her away.
But I already knew that hideout was near the desert city of Keltas in the south. I'd read it in the novel. Cowardly? Yeah, but what can you do.
Belmont was smart; by now, he'd realize his daughter was my hostage.
Terrified of what I'd do to her after his death—the demonic monk Theo called me—he wouldn't dare die. Fathers could endure a blade at their own throat, but a shard of glass near their child's fingertip? They'd foam at the mouth.
So in the end, Belmont would apologize before the queen, and I'd accept it, sparing the finance minister's execution.
That was the conclusion I'd racked my brains over for days.
And that's exactly what was happening.
Right now, in this court, I alone dominated everyone's emotions!
With this, damn it, the death flags hanging over my neck would vanish.
My victory.
Suppressing my joy, I smirked slyly, casting a shadow over my face.
Then Aira sheathed her sword in the floor and began clapping. *Clap-clap-clap*.
"Indeed, I see. Theo, you've read my mind perfectly. So, you want to make these many onlookers watch Belmont the great traitor commit incest with his daughter Clara, right?"
"Yes?"
No, I hadn't thought that far.
"As expected of Theo, my one true confidant. You get it."
Get what? Damn it, just stay quiet. I hadn't planned that far.
—Incest?
—Right here?
—That's horrifying!
I could feel murderous glares turning toward me from the crowd.
They knew.
Aira had no thoughts of her own; I was the one egging her on this way and that.
"Ah."
It felt like my hair was being yanked out.
I'd barely saved Belmont to derail the plot, but Aira was pouring magma on top of it.
*I want to scream, "Aira, you lunatic, that's your death flag!"* But I couldn't.
Why was she sprinting toward death like it was a race?
Was the wheel of fate for characters inescapably barreling straight at us, like the mythic heroes who couldn't evade cruel oracles?
No matter how I struggled, as a mere human, could I not escape destiny?
Was Aira fated to become history's greatest villainess, no matter what this ordinary guy did?
And what about me, Theo, the character licking the sweet scraps by her side? If Aira got executed as the villainess, what happened to me?
No need to ask. I'd clearly be torn apart by the enraged mob.
Fucking infuriating.
Screw fate.
I won't yield to that crap.
Let them laugh at my misery and hurl stones—I'd dodge them all and laugh last.
So I frantically thought up my next move.
There had to be a way. I'd survived desperately for a year.
"Your Majesty..."
Fortunately—or unfortunately—Belmont, embracing his daughter, bowed before the queen with tears streaming.
"Aira, my queen. Please show mercy to this old retainer and sheath that dark blade. I have committed a grave sin deserving death. But my daughter, at least..."
"F-Father..."
The aged father and his stripped daughter clinging and weeping was enough to moisten everyone's eyes.
Even the queen's guards, ruthless enough to snatch candy from a crying child and flick their forehead on her command—
—I can't watch.
—Me neither. When's quitting time?
—We just started.
—they averted their eyes, bitter expressions hidden under helmets.
Only Aira smirked with a "Hmm."
"Hmm, what to do. The crime of insolence toward I, Queen Aira, is heavy. What to do~."
It was like a child excitedly awaiting parents' decision on a gift.
Now was my moment to step in again.
"Um, Your Majesty. I, Theo, have a modest suggestion."
"Yes?"
Aira leaned in to hear me out. Not the other powerful families here—just me, the gardener.
Seeing that, I felt anew what I'd sensed every day for the past year.
I'd become the lackey of a spoiled queen.
No matter how I thought about it, I...