I Became the Narrow-Eyed Villain in a Dropped Novel

The Imperial Central Administration, more commonly called Bureaucrats’ Street, was renowned not only for its administrative functions but also as an educational institution for training the Empire’s future leaders.

Most of the administrative organizations run by the Dukes to govern their territories were staffed predominantly by graduates of Bureaucrats’ Street.

On a typical evening, Bureaucrats’ Street would have been filled with students heading to dormitories, officials and teachers leaving work, and hired workers.

But today was different.

Soldiers set up checkpoints on the street, inspecting every passerby.

Though it was late for the commute home, most people didn’t complain—they just scanned their surroundings with worried eyes.

“They look like Chartra’s soldiers. Why are they here all of a sudden?”

“No idea… Maybe something’s wrong.”

“No way they’d check every single person just because something’s wrong. I think this is…”

“Shh! Watch yourself, man. Let’s talk outside, outside.”

Those able to line up at the checkpoints were the lucky ones.

The high officials, who would normally have left Bureaucrats’ Street first, sat in the meeting room with grim faces.

“What reason or authority does Lord Chartra have to detain us?”

“For security reasons, I can’t say.”

Normally, they would’ve scolded such insolence in front of the Empire’s leading officials, but today, everyone knew better.

It wasn’t the Imperial Army but Chartra’s private soldiers who had stormed in—the implication was obvious.

With no choice but to wait, the officials gaped when an unexpected figure entered as the door opened.

“Chancellor? Why are you here…?”

“A man who’s supposed to be rotting in the North—what’s he doing here? Use those clever heads of yours.”

The officials exchanged bewildered glances.

Hendrick, the mastermind behind this coup?

That was absurd.

Leaving aside how he escaped exile, the idea of Chartra and Hendrick working together made no sense.

Why would Chartra cooperate with someone the Emperor personally exiled?

“You’re thinking it’s impossible. But if it weren’t true, how would I be here?”

Murmurs spread among the officials.

Hendrick gave a faint smile at their confusion.

“Chancellor, you’ve gone too far.”

“Why’s that? Explain.”

A gaunt official cautiously pointed out, and Hendrick countered.

The officials doubted their eyes at Hendrick’s relaxed demeanor, so unlike his usual outbursts or sullen silence.

“…As the late Emperor’s brother, you have no claim to the throne, Chancellor. Only his children are eligible to inherit.”

According to Imperial law, if one sibling became Emperor, the others couldn’t inherit unless the Emperor died without an heir.

Capable or not, as long as the Emperor’s only child was alive, Hendrick could never take the throne.

The other Dukes, currently watching from the sidelines, would swarm like bees and cast him out.

“It seems you’re misunderstanding something. When did I say I’d take the throne?”

“Then why commit treason if not for that?”

The gaunt official replied with a bewildered expression.

There was no reason to detain the officials if not for the throne.

“Your brother wasn’t blessed with many children, true. But assuming he had only one is your mistake.”

“You mean… there’s an illegitimate child?”

The room buzzed.

Given the late Emperor’s notorious philandering, rumors of illegitimate children always floated around, but none had ever surfaced concretely.

“You’re not just pulling some street kid and making it up, are you?”

One official spat sarcastically, then clamped his mouth shut under the soldiers’ glares.

Had Hendrick not intervened, he might’ve been dragged out.

“It’s natural to doubt. I didn’t know of his existence until recently myself. But he’s definitely my brother’s child. I swear on the Imperial Family’s name.”

Despite the bold claim, the air remained half-believing, half-skeptical.

As if waiting for the cue, Hendrick gestured.

“Bring His Highness.”

“Yes.”

As the soldier left the meeting room, the officials’ curiosity grew.

Was there really an illegitimate child?

If so, could he handle state affairs?

What would the Emperor think?

When the door opened, all eyes turned to it.

Some officials couldn’t hide their shock and let out gasps.

A young man with slightly tanned skin entered the meeting room with dignity.

No one among the officials could’ve guessed he came from a back alley in Schwaben—he carried such an air.

“I am Blaiher Kruber. Of Aslan’s bloodline and the second son of the late Emperor.”

Older officials saw the Emperor in his face, while younger ones sensed the Emperor in his dignified aura.

“I thank you all, who form the backbone of the Empire, for your hard work. The reason I stand here today is…”

Pausing briefly, Blaiher looked each official in the eye.

Some met his gaze boldly, others turned away awkwardly.

“…to resolve the Empire’s crisis. The authority of the Imperial Central Administration is declining daily, the Dukes clamor for their own survival, and the current situation is filled with petty men chasing short-term gains while turning a blind eye to corruption.”

Blaiher paused again, giving a faint smile.

It wasn’t a comforting smile.

The gaunt official felt he’d seen it somewhere before.

“To do this, I need your strength. Rather than dwelling on small faults, I aim to focus on fixing the Empire. Lend me your power.”

His tone was gentle, but the meaning was clear.

He’d overlook their corruption if they followed him going forward.

As the officials rolled their eyes, Hendrick raised his voice.

“Raise your hands if you support His Highness Blaiher.”

One by one, the officials raised their hands.

There wasn’t a single person loyal to the current Emperor anyway.

Only then did the gaunt official recall where he’d seen Blaiher’s smile.

It was the same as Count Valheit’s.

* * *

“Extra! Extra!”

Despite the late hour nearing midnight, the newsboy shouted loudly.

Citizens, roused from deep sleep, opened their windows and hurled curses.

“Let us sleep! What’s with the newspaper in the middle of the night!”

“Lord Werner Chartra was attacked on his way to the promised banquet with the Emperor!”

“What?! Who attacked him?!”

“Read the paper for details!”

The newsboy flashed a triumphant smile, waving the newspaper.

Soon, people in pajamas gathered in groups around him.

“Who else but His Majesty would attack Lord Chartra?”

“They say it was the Imperial Guard! How could they target a loyal vassal like him…?”

“Are we going to see those Vestol bastards acting high and mighty again?”

The citizens’ murmurs grew into a crowd.

What started as opinions turned into denunciations.

A man with closed eyes passed through the crowd, whistling.

No one paid him attention, but Valheit didn’t care.

“Everything’s going according to plan.”

“Who wouldn’t like that?”

“It’s not over yet.”

Til, who had joined me at some point, grumbled.

I nodded in agreement.

“What’s the Imperial Guard doing?”

“They realized the palace was taken and retreated west. They’ve already started fortifying.”

“So unnecessarily competent. Any movement from the Imperial Army units Lord Werner brought?”

“My brother went to negotiate. I don’t know how it’ll go, but they’ll probably respond after seeing Father’s condition.”

“I hope you didn’t stab too deeply.”

“You think I’d make such a rookie mistake? I guarantee he’ll be up in two weeks without any lasting effects.”

“Two weeks of bedrest sounds like an aftereffect itself… but that’ll do. Now then…”

Whistle!

A long, sharp whistle cut off my words.

I saw several Imperial Army soldiers running frantically.

“Disperse! Disperse, please!”

“Hey, is it true Lord Werner was attacked?”

“We’re confirming. Please disperse!”

“Tell us what’s going on so we can go home!”

A scuffle broke out between the struggling soldiers and the angry crowd, but eventually, people returned home one by one.

Til and I turned our steps toward Blaiher’s villa.

* * *

“So, what now?”

“The Emperor’s probably racking his brain right now. But with that head, he’ll pick one of two options. First, lead the Imperial Guard to retake the palace.”

Until we win over the Imperial Army, we have to hold the palace with the small number of Chartra’s private soldiers.

Trained by the Chartra family, they’re highly skilled, but whether they can hold out against the Imperial Guard is uncertain.

“Of course, with news of Werner’s attack spreading quickly among the people, he’s unlikely to make such a risky choice.”

“Then what do you think he’ll do?”

“Run. To a place he thinks will take him in.”

“…The Vestol embassy?”

Not a bad judgment.

He could counterattack with Vestol’s help, or, in the worst case, seek asylum.

“Of course, going to the embassy would be the worst choice.”

When I visited the Vestol embassy last time, the ambassador and I made a secret agreement.

In exchange for help resolving their conflict with Charnirasho, Vestol would offer no aid to the Emperor.

If he goes to the embassy, he’ll either be turned away or, worse, captured.

“I get it, but you still haven’t said the most important part.”

“?”

“What are you going to do with the Emperor?”

I paused my steps briefly.

A flicker of anguish crossed my face.

But just as quickly, I returned to my usual smirking expression.

“Better to eliminate him to avoid future trouble. It’d be a headache if he goes around claiming he didn’t attack Werner.”

Til didn’t respond to my lament-tinged decision.

In the past, she would’ve laughed and said she’d kill him herself.

Now, I was hesitating.

Was there another scheme? Or was I tired of getting blood on my hands?

Either way, I had changed.

One word to kill, and I could take out a fool Emperor anytime.

But the Commander always deliberated until the end when giving such orders.

Sometimes to an unnecessary degree.

Til joined the Eight Council because she liked that about the Commander.

A sword shouldn’t be swung carelessly.

Seeing me lost in thought with my mouth shut, Til faintly saw the Commander’s image overlap with mine.

‘Not bad.’