The Empress's Harem and Other Unwanted Side Hustles

The moon hung high above the makeshift town square, casting a gentle glow over the gathering of villagers. Laughter echoed softly through the night as children ran about, their hands clutching warm loaves of bread. The scent of fresh stew filled the air, blending with the crisp winter breeze.

Diana stood amidst the people, a soft smile on her lips as she handed out food. Her silver hair, hidden beneath a simple hood, glimmered under the lantern light. These were the moments she cherished—the quiet, fleeting moments where she could simply be Diana, not the Empress, not a schemer, not a woman burdened by fate.

"Thank you, miss!" a young girl beamed as she received a steaming bowl of soup.

Diana crouched slightly, ruffling the child's hair. "Eat well, alright?"

The little girl nodded enthusiastically and ran off to join her family.

Lucius, standing beside her, sighed heavily. "You look like a saint right now. People might actually mistake you for a goddess."

Diana chuckled, handing another loaf of bread to an elderly man. "And you look like a grumpy noble forced into charity work. Smile a little, Lucius."

Lucius rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He had long given up on trying to understand Diana's whims.

A few feet away, Marianne Evermont, the marquis's imprisoned wife, sat by the fire, a bowl of stew in her hands. She looked far more relaxed than before, though there was still a quiet sadness in her eyes.

Diana approached her and sat down. "Marianne, about earlier… You were telling us about the day the marquis took your father's title."

Marianne exhaled softly, staring at the flickering flames. "It was supposed to be a day of celebration," she murmured. "My father… he was always a kind man. He ruled fairly, never taking more than what was needed."

Her fingers tightened around the bowl. "But Lionel Evermont… he was patient. He planted doubts, rumors. He made sure the nobles started questioning my father's ability. Then, on the day of my wedding, he struck."

Lucius frowned. "Your wedding?"

Marianne nodded bitterly. "I was to be married to a distant noble—someone who could secure my family's standing. But before the ceremony could even begin, Evermont staged an accident."

Diana remained silent, listening carefully.

"My father was found dead in his chambers," Marianne continued, her voice trembling. "They said it was an illness, but I knew better. He was fine the night before. Yet by morning, he was gone, and Evermont—he consoled me, pretending to be my savior."

Lucius clenched his fists. "And no one suspected him?"

Marianne let out a hollow laugh. "Of course they did. But he was careful. The documents were all in place. Within a day, he married me, and I lost everything. My father's lands, my freedom… Even my voice."

Diana's golden eyes darkened. "And the other women?"

Marianne exhaled. "The same story, just with different endings. Some were noble ladies he tricked, others were commoners he used for convenience. The only difference is that he kept me, while he discarded the rest."

Silence settled between them.

Then, Diana asked, "And the slaves?"

Marianne blinked, confused. "Slaves?"

Diana's gaze sharpened. "Evermont was involved in human trafficking. Are you saying you never saw anything?"

Marianne paled. "I… I knew he was cruel, but…" She shook her head. "I never saw anything like that. If it's true, he must have kept it far away from the manor."

Diana nodded, filing the information away in her mind.

For tonight, it was enough.

Diana awoke to the acrid scent of smoke.

She sat up abruptly, her body tense. The warmth of the previous night was gone, replaced by an eerie silence.

Then—

Screams.

Lucius burst into the tent, his violet eyes wide with urgency. "Diana—"

She was already moving, throwing off her cloak and stepping out.

The sight before her made her blood run cold.

The village was burning.

Flames consumed the wooden houses, thick black smoke curling into the morning sky. The scent of charred flesh filled the air, mingling with the cries of the dying. Bodies littered the ground—men, women, children. The same people she had shared laughter with last night.

Dead.

Slaughtered.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest as she stumbled forward. "No…"

Lucius grabbed her arm, his face grim. "Diana, we need to move—"

Her golden eyes turned to him, wide, uncomprehending. "Lucius… am I dreaming?" Her voice trembled.

Lucius opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Diana turned back to the carnage, her fingers digging into her palms.

This isn't right.

These people were supposed to live.

In her past life, she had seen the records—the second calamity in the Northern Plains. These very people were among those who perished. But that was years later, when the Empire was already in ruins.

Yet now—

Did I… do this?

Her stomach churned violently.

Had she accelerated their deaths?

Lucius let go of her arm and stepped forward, his expression dark. "The ones responsible—" He stopped, scanning the area.

Diana followed his gaze. The banners of House Evermont fluttered in the wind, bloodstained and torn. The knights—those who remained—stood at a distance, watching the destruction they had wrought.

A messenger approached hesitantly, bowing before speaking. "Marquis Evermont… declared the village a den of rebellion."

Diana laughed. A short, bitter laugh that held no warmth.

Rebellion?

She turned to the smoking ruins, to the lifeless bodies.

"These people weren't rebels," she whispered.

Lucius clenched his jaw. "Evermont must have panicked. He realized someone was targeting him, so he wiped out every potential witness."

Diana's hands trembled.

Last night, she had given these people hope.

And now, their corpses littered the ground.

Lucien's face flashed in her mind. Her son—her bright, innocent child—had once begged for her to listen, to see the truth.

And she hadn't.

She had been blind.

She had ignored his suffering, just as she had ignored the cries of so many others.

And now, even with a second chance—

Her breath came fast and shallow. She felt sick. Disgusting.

Lucius placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Diana. We have to move."

She didn't respond.

She couldn't.

Because for the first time since her rebirth—

She wasn't sure if she had changed anything at all.

The cold air was sharp, biting through Diana's cloak as she stood among the ruins. Smoke still lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of blood and ash.

The fire had long since died down, leaving behind blackened wood and lifeless bodies scattered across the snowy plain.

She stood there, unmoving.

She didn't cry.

She didn't scream.

She simply stared.

Lucius returned from his scouting, his violet eyes heavy with exhaustion. He had been gone for hours, searching the outskirts of the village, checking for survivors.

He walked up to her, his expression dark. "It's over."

Diana didn't answer.

He let out a quiet sigh, glancing at the wreckage. "We managed to save some." He looked toward a group of children huddled in the shadows. Their faces were hollow with fear, their small bodies trembling from the cold. "They knew how to escape through the sewers. That's the only reason they survived."

Diana turned her gaze to them. They were dirty, barely clothed for the harsh winter, their eyes filled with unspeakable loss.

Only a few.

Just a few children left in this desolate place.

Diana exhaled slowly, her breath turning to mist in the cold air. "Is that all?"

Lucius hesitated before answering. "…That's all."

Diana closed her eyes for a moment. So many gone…

She knew war. She knew cruelty. She had lived through betrayals, through pain, through the slow decay of an empire. But nothing had prepared her for this.

For the sheer, utter silence of death.

Lucius ran a hand through his messy hair, muttering, "Damn bastard wiped them out before we even had a chance to fight back." He clenched his fists. "We should go. The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it gets. Evermont will send people to check if he succeeded."

Diana didn't move.

Lucius glanced at her, frowning. "Diana."

She stepped forward, carefully kneeling beside a fallen woman.

Her body was frozen stiff, arms wrapped protectively around a child who had long stopped breathing. Their faces were peaceful, as if they had fallen asleep in each other's embrace.

Diana reached out, gently brushing the snow off their faces. "We should bury them."

Lucius stared at her. "What?"

She rose to her feet, glancing at the others. "They deserve a proper burial."

Lucius looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "Diana, we don't have time for this."

She ignored him and stepped forward, reaching for another body. "If we leave them here, animals will tear them apart."

"Diana—"

She turned to him, her golden eyes burning with something unreadable. "I won't leave them like this."

Lucius let out a frustrated sigh. "We need to get out of here now. You know this. The longer we stay, the more risk we—"

"I know." Diana's voice was quiet but firm. "But I have to do this."

Lucius watched her for a long moment.

Then, with a heavy exhale, he ran a hand over his face. "Shit."

But he didn't argue again.

Instead, he rolled up his sleeves, crouched down, and began digging.

The ground was frozen, stiff and unyielding beneath their hands.

They had no proper tools, only their bare hands and whatever they could find among the wreckage. It was slow, grueling work.

Diana's fingers burned from the cold, but she didn't stop.

One by one, they placed the bodies into the graves—mothers, fathers, children. Some had died holding hands. Others had fallen alone.

The surviving children watched from a distance, too weak to help, too hollow to cry.

Lucius grumbled the entire time. "I swear, you're insane. Absolutely insane." But he never stopped digging.

Diana simply continued, her movements mechanical, almost reverent.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the last body was placed into the earth.

Diana stood at the edge of the burial ground, brushing dirt from her hands. The sky above them was turning a dull gray, the sun barely breaking through the thick clouds.

Lucius threw down a broken piece of wood he had been using as a shovel and exhaled sharply. "There. We're done. Can we go now?"

Diana didn't answer.

She knelt down and pressed her hands together.

And then, for the first time in a long time—

She prayed.

Her breath was shallow, her voice barely above a whisper.

"May you rest in peace."

The wind howled around them, carrying her words away.

She didn't know who she was praying to.

She didn't know if anyone was listening.

She only knew that she had to do it.

"May you find warmth where the cold can't reach you."

Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together.

"May you never hunger again."

Lucius was silent beside her, watching.

"May your pain end here."

She lowered her head, closing her golden eyes.

"May you never be forgotten."

The wind died down.

And for a moment, the world was still.

Then, quietly, the children behind her pressed their hands together, mimicking her. They didn't speak, didn't fully understand, but they followed her lead.

Lucius crossed his arms, letting out a deep sigh. "You're really something else, Diana."

She smiled faintly. "I'm just tired, Lucius."

She opened her eyes, gazing at the graves.

I was too late.

Again.

She had come here thinking she could change something. That she could stop the tragedy before it happened.

But she had only quickened their deaths.

Lucius placed a hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding.

"You did what you could," he said, his voice unusually gentle.

Diana didn't answer.

Instead, she rose to her feet and turned toward the children.

"We're leaving," she said softly. "We'll take you somewhere safe."

The children hesitated, exchanging glances. They had lost everything—home, family, safety.

But they had nowhere else to go.

Slowly, they nodded.

Diana turned to Lucius.

He met her gaze, then sighed dramatically. "You're really turning into a mother hen, huh?"

She let out a quiet chuckle. "You should be used to it by now."

Lucius smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get moving before Evermont sends more of his men."

Diana gave the graves one last look.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.