* * *
“‘Baek Yigang.’ That’s your baby name, little one.”
Hair as white as winter snow cascaded down her back.
The woman, sweeping her delicate fingers through her silken locks, smiled gently as she looked down at the tiny life cradled in her arms.
The infant, with the same snowy hair and jewel-like amethyst eyes, stared back at her silently, not even crying.
“I’ll give you all the power I possess. So that no one can touch you—not even the emperor himself…”
Smiling faintly, she uttered such audacious words as if they were nothing, tenderly stroking the baby’s tiny head.
‘If you transfer your power to the child in your womb, Your Majesty will live, and the baby will be born with immense strength. They will surely ascend the throne. A perfect solution.’
The Wizards of the Tower had claimed it was the ultimate solution: precise, calculated, and flawless.
Too flawless to believe.
Even with gods in this world, there’s no such thing as perfection without sacrifice.
Hail Dirzio. Once the sole daughter of Baron Lithion, she rose to fame overnight as “the emperor’s first love,” after catching his eye during her debutante ball.
To society, she was simply a “lucky young lady,” a “beauty,” and “the woman with hair white as winter.”
No one dreamed that Irina was secretly the century’s greatest Dark Wizard.
When the empress became pregnant, the Tower approached Irina with a sinister plan.
They demanded her power, threatening to expose her dark magic and ensuring her immediate downfall if she resisted.
Fearing for her unborn child, Irina couldn’t refuse. But the price for using dark magic was cruelly high—her life.
Yet she couldn’t stop.
Not when her child’s life hung in the balance.
In the end, Irina was discarded by the Tower, who turned their eyes to the child she had protected with everything she had.
“I’ll die once I pass this power to you, won’t I? The Tower has no use for me alive anymore.”
Still, she had no regrets.
She made her choice for one reason:
“Hail, promise me you won’t live the way they want you to.”
With her power, her child could grow strong enough to make their own choices, to protect themselves and others.
Because choice—true choice—is a privilege granted only to those with power.
Thus, the Wizard Tower would do everything in its power to ensure that Hail became the emperor.
No matter what happened, it would take full responsibility for Hail’s safety and protection.
As long as what they sought resided with Hail, they would willingly serve as loyal hounds.
Anything that posed a threat to Hail would be dealt with discreetly, and any opportunity that benefited him would be pursued without hesitation.
Whether to yield to the Wizard Tower’s influence or confront it was a decision that Hail would make in the future.
For now, all Irina could do was hand him the power to turn his weaknesses into tools to exploit his enemies.
After transferring all her power to her firstborn, Irina spent the next five years bedridden, eventually passing away shortly after giving birth to the last prince, Ian.
“Another one of those dreams again.”
As a child, Yigang frequently had strange dreams.
Dreams of a crown perched on his head, dripping with blood, crumbling into dust—a disturbing vision with no clear meaning.
But the dream didn’t stop there.
It would continue, showing his younger brother, Piel Dirzio, ascending the throne as the new emperor, followed by the apocalyptic image of Pendium crushed under Piel’s heel and falling into ruin.
Having the same dream over and over left a growing sense of unease in Yigang.
“I am not fit to be emperor, and neither is Piel. If either of us takes the throne, Pendium will fall.”
If Yigang were to ascend, the empire would collapse under the weight of countless deaths.
If Piel became emperor, the foundation of the country itself would crumble.
By the time Yigang came to this chilling realization, the last prince was born—Ian Dirzio, the final life brought into the world by their frail mother, who had spent her days confined to her bed.
Ian, who lacked the cursed power Yigang carried, and the burning ambition that consumed Piel.
Ian, with his pure, deep blue eyes, seemed untouched by the corruption of the world.
The moment Yigang laid eyes on the newborn, he thought:
“This child must be the emperor of Pendium. If not, the empire will perish.”
It wasn’t merely a prophecy delivered through a dream.
Even at his young age, Yigang understood all too well how dangerous and sharp his own power was.
A dream shown by such power would undoubtedly become reality.
And Yigang had no intention of allowing the country his mother loved to be destroyed.
But the world was not so kind.
By the natural order, the first prince, Yigang, would be appointed as the crown prince, and if he refused, the title would fall to the second prince, Piel.
For Ian, the third prince, to become emperor, he would need extraordinary martial prowess or some other exceptional ability.
But unfortunately, Ian seemed interested only in flowers and greenery, completely lacking the qualities required for an emperor.
To make matters worse, Ian had no desire for power. It was hopeless.
“I cannot let this country fall. But how…?”
It was during this desperate time that the devil appeared.
“I will send someone to help you. In return, give me your soul.”
Haunted by nightmares after his mother’s death, Yigang had no room to doubt the unfamiliar being that appeared before him.
And so, at the age of six, Yigang took the devil’s hand.
“…Another pointless dream.”
In the serene bedroom, bathed in soft morning sunlight, Yigang’s dissatisfied voice echoed coldly.
The unusual dream had woken him at an hour that was neither too early nor too late.
It was one he hadn’t had since childhood, yet it had returned to disturb his night.
His insomnia, which had plagued him for years, was largely due to these dreams.
While it seemed unlikely that the old nightmares would resurface in full force, the unpleasant feeling lingered.
Sensing a faint movement beside him, Yigang turned his head.
There lay Dowoon, buried under a thick blanket pulled up to his chin, his mouth slightly open as if he were having a pleasant dream.
The sight was so absurdly foolish that Yigang let out a hollow chuckle.
With a small smirk, he reached out and gently closed Dowoon’s open mouth.
Dowoon stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open halfway. Still groggy, his unfocused gaze blinked slowly.
“…Baek Yigang, already awake?”
His lips mumbled the words weakly, still drunk with sleep.
Judging by his incoherent muttering, it seemed he’d slept deeply.
“Wipe your mouth. Speak properly.”
“Why pick a fight first thing in the morning…”
At Yigang’s scolding, Dowoon pouted and pulled the blanket over his face.
Unfazed, Yigang heartlessly tugged the blanket away.
“Get up. Today is important.”
At that, Dowoon shot upright. The drowsiness from moments before vanished without a trace.
“That’s right! Baek Yigang, today’s the day you become emperor!”
Dowoon’s navy-blue eyes sparkled with excitement and admiration.
‘Wow, this sly bastard finally did it. The evil mastermind is about to become emperor. Wait, where’s the system? SYSTEM!!’
Dowoon grinned as he checked Yigang’s gratitude percentage.
No matter the odds, once the protagonist achieved their goals, gratitude was inevitable.
[SYSTEM: Player ‘Cheong Dowoon’ currently has a 50% gratitude rating from ‘Hail Dirzio.’
※ Please note that real-time updates may cause slight delays in the displayed value.]
‘Wow, it’s already gone up 30%. Not bad.’
The number brought a satisfied smile to Dowoon’s face.
He could guess why the percentage had increased.
With a bright grin, Dowoon grabbed Yigang’s hand firmly.
[51%]
The blinking number ticked upward.
It was thanks to the “skinship bug” that seemed to work only on Yigang.
Though unintentional, the frequent physical contact between them had clearly helped, as Dowoon deduced.
Not that it mattered much now.
The goal was to fulfill Yigang’s wish and receive his gratitude, freeing himself from the possession.
And yet, here they were.
‘Who would’ve thought I’d have to play it straight to finish this possession?’
Looking back on previous possessions, where a little assistance had swiftly earned him gratitude, this route felt painfully long.
‘Then again, Baek Yigang isn’t someone you can compare to those trivial guys.’
Dowoon smiled softly as he gazed at Yigang.
* * *
