Suppose I haven’t lost my mind…

Just a few hours ago, I was still in my hotel. And now? I wake up here… in Empire Wars.

“The more I think about it, the more absurd it gets.”

The worst part? I can’t even question it. My head is flooded with memories that aren’t mine—memories of this body’s previous owner.

Arghhh! If I had to appear in Empire Wars, out of all the places on this continent and its thirteen empires… Why the hell did it have to be in the Thirteenth Empire?!

And worse… in the body of that damn dwarf pretending to be human!

Lying on the cold floor, Xavier—now the Emperor of the Thirteenth Empire—cursed this world internally. But suddenly, a thought struck him.

He remembered what Hamilton had said just a few hours ago:

“What if it were you? If you were the Emperor of the Thirteenth Empire, do you think you could raise it to the top? Better yet… could you become the richest man in this world?”

Haha… Hamilton… you bastard… You’ll pay for this.

He had no idea how he ended up here, but his instincts told him that question hadn’t been random.

Slowly, Xavier sat up.

Whoever you are…

A determined smile spread across his face. He raised his thumb… then turned it downward. A nervous tic he always had whenever a situation seemed complicated.

You’re going to regret sending me here.

Flip.

But first, I need to gather some intel…

The Thirteenth Empire was the weakest on the continent, the first to be annexed in the early chapters. The novel barely mentioned it, as if it were just a third-rate empire, doomed to vanish without a trace.

However, there was one thing—or rather, one person—who kept being brought up throughout the story: one of the three SWORD GODS of the continent.

As their name suggested, their power was on par with that of a deity. Their influence surpassed even that of empires, and they were considered the true guardians of the continent. No ruler had absolute authority over them.

And that person was Selene Voldrek.

The imperial family bore the name Voldrek.

In other words, Selene was my older sister.

And the emperor?

Lucian Voldrek.

Shit.

“My name is now Lucian Voldrek.”

Xavier—or rather, Lucian—glanced down at his clothes. Well, clothes was a bit of a stretch: a silk tunic, tailored to his small frame, loose and soft, embroidered with dragon patterns.

He took a deep breath.

No time to waste.

The Marquis Clerc, huh…? Whatever. Let’s get changed.

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With a determined stride, he walked toward the wardrobe. Strangely, he had no trouble finding his way around. As if the essence of the former Lucian had left an imprint on him.

Seven minutes had passed since the servant announced the arrival of Marquis Clerc and his fiancée, Adeline Clerc.

And now, he stood before the massive chamber doors.

“Once I walk through this door, there’s no turning back.”

… Five years. Could I do it in five years?

An amused smirk played on his lips. His thumb turned downward.

“Since when do you doubt yourself, idiot? I’ll do it in an hour if I have to. Xavier doesn’t lose. Xavier always wins… and makes a ton of money.”

And with that, he confidently pushed open the door.

Oh, would you look at that…

Two guards stood on either side of the entrance.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

Their tone was polite, respectful even.

But their gazes…

Thinly veiled contempt. As if I were some annoying insect, and they were just waiting to see how much longer I’d dare to crawl.

They didn’t even bother hiding their disdain.

And more than that, they hadn’t even checked on me after hearing the loud crash from my fall… or my screams when those memories flooded in.

Logical.

The former Lucian was a pacifist. Worse, a naive child, completely uninterested in politics. As a result, the nobles and officials held all the real power.

Every ingredient needed to doom this empire to ruin.

I swallowed my irritation and walked away without a word.

Small steps.

Damn small kid’s steps.

As I moved through the corridors, I took in my surroundings.

A thirteenth-ranked empire… But an empire nonetheless.

The guards and servants I passed greeted me with polite bows—then whispered behind my back, just loud enough for me to hear.

I ignored them, focusing on the castle’s interior.

Towering walls decorated with ancient tapestries depicted tales of glory and war. Massive marble columns supported a golden ceiling, while majestic windows bathed the halls in sunlight. Large sculptures of warriors and nobles stood proudly, reminders of the empire’s former greatness.

It’s… magnificent.

But as I admired it, a wave of irritation hit me.

Such a grand castle… while the slot machines outside starved.

(Slot machines, of course, referring to the common folk.)

You’ll see…

Lucian stopped.

A man stood before the grand doors leading to the reception hall.

White hair betraying his age, a pristine black suit, an upright and dignified posture.

Chris Hartner.

The head butler of the empire.

My personal butler.

And more importantly… one of the few people who didn’t despise the emperor.

Unlike the others, he served him with genuine loyalty.

I studied him for a moment.

Hmm… he looks even more charismatic than in the novel.

And he even has the same name as my slav— ahem, my employee.

Chris, hahaha.

The butler bowed deeply.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

Lucian crossed his arms, his childish voice carrying an air of authority.

“Chris.”

The butler lifted his head slightly.

“I have a job for you.”

---

Two minutes later

Beads of sweat formed on the once-composed butler’s forehead.

Panicked, he stammered:

> “Your Majesty, please reconsider—”

But before he could finish, Lucian had already opened the door.

… Or at least, tried to.

His small hands and frail body made it a bit of a struggle.

Still, once the door was ajar, he declared:

“It’s an order.”

Then he shut it behind him.

Sorry, Chris, but we’re on the clock.

No time to waste.

He stepped into the room—a luxurious meeting hall dominated by a grand table, surrounded by finely carved chairs. But what immediately caught the eye was, of course, the imperial throne—larger, more majestic, a seat that embodied the supreme authority of the Empire.

"Greetings, Your Majesty."

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

A man and a young woman stood, setting down their teacups. However, their gazes were filled with barely veiled contempt, as if they were looking at an incompetent fool unfit to rule.

The servants present also bowed… with the same disdainful expressions.

All of them.

Lucian didn’t respond. Without a word, he simply walked toward his seat.

Marquis Clerc narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening.

The emperor had dared to ignore his greeting?

But Lucian was too preoccupied to care.

He had just frozen in front of his throne.

Shit…

How the hell was he supposed to climb up there?

A wave of emotions surged through him.

Humiliation.

He took a careful step forward, and then… he saw them.

Steps.

Damn steps, placed right in front of the throne just to help him get up there.

Why is this body so damn small?!

Tears welled up in his eyes.

Damn it… Am I seriously crying right now?!

He wiped them away at once, but it was already too late.

Marquis Clerc, who had been watching the scene, smirked cruelly.

That brat had the nerve to act tough with me… and now he’s crying just from climbing onto his chair?

HAHAHA! This is going to make negotiations even easier today, little emperor.

---

Elsewhere, in the Imperial Office…

"That bastard really did that, Chris?!"

The butler raised an eyebrow.

"I would ask that you watch your language when speaking about the emperor, Duke Voldrek."

The Duke burst into laughter.

"Still as stiff as ever, huh?"

Chris didn’t respond.

The man, still chuckling, poured himself a glass of wine before continuing:

"So… does that mean you're sending a message to Selene too?"

Chris slowly nodded.

"That is correct."

The Duke’s smile vanished instantly.

The atmosphere grew heavy.

"Your emperor… has finally chosen death, hasn’t he?"

Silence.

Then, a sigh.

"Fine. Because of these damn traditions, I can’t refuse an imperial order. He’ll have his little family reunion…"

He swirled his glass between his fingers before smiling slightly.

"But he really shouldn’t have invited Big Sister Selene."

Because in the end…

If she comes, there’s a good chance the emperor’s seat will soon be empty.

---

Back in the Meeting Hall…

Marquis Clerc’s eyes widened, his voice betraying genuine shock.

"What did you just say, Your Majesty?!"

His rough tone echoed through the room.

Then, a child's voice answered.

"… Sigh."

Lucian crossed his arms and declared in a detached tone:

"I’m finally granting you what you’ve always wanted. I accept the annulment of the engagement."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

The marquis turned red—as red as a tomato.

The next second, he shot to his feet, slamming the table so hard the teacups trembled.

"Is this a joke?!" he roared, furious.

Lucian stared at him, unbothered.

Hmm…

He just raised his voice at me.

A mere marquis dared to raise his tone at the emperor?

Even the servants here showed him no respect.

Lucian clenched his fist slightly.

He had to fight the urge to execute his usual nervous tic.

Just a little more patience…

Just a little.