I'll Abandon the Fake Savior (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 14
Click, click, click.
The sharp sound of swift footsteps striking the marble floor echoed sharply through the high-ceilinged palace corridor. The long train of her dress, though made of the finest silk, dragged along the floor, its delicate weave already fraying.
Those impatiently hurried steps halted before a firmly closed door. The knights guarding it recognized the lady and swiftly knelt in obeisance.
“Your Imperial Highness, Empress.”
“Your Imperial Highness, Empress.”
The knights shouted in disciplined unison. At this, Empress Greta’s finely painted eyebrows twitched.
Her eyes, which had sloped gently downward like those of a kind and gentle soul, instantly turned fierce without mercy. Even her nose, usually tracing soft, rounded curves, twisted like a beast’s.
“…….”
But only for a moment—Greta’s expression smoothed as if she had never contorted her face at all. Yet the voice emerging from her small lips was icy beyond compare.
“You’re playing tricks again, Prince.”
Her mocking laughter sounded as though she held Heathcliff openly in the palm of her hand.
“To have your knights announce my arrival? You must be buying time to escape.”
Greta’s gaze, which until then had fixed solely on the door—elaborately carved with ivy vines and laurel wreaths—as though the knights weren’t even there, abruptly dropped downward. Her mysterious eyes, a blend of green and blue, gleamed fiercely.
“To whom do you pledge your loyalty—the Empress or the Prince?”
“Y-Your Imperial Highness…!”
“Answer.”
Not even a blizzard in the heart of a frozen wasteland could be harsher than this. Though the knights were strong enough to lift a log alone with ease, they stood dumbfounded as if confronting a massive grizzly bear all by themselves.
When one knight’s voice failed him, another quickly bowed his head and answered.
“Y-Your Imperial Highness, Empress! We are yours alone.”
“Then so be it.”
Greta’s eyes widened further. The air pressing down on the knights’ shoulders grew heavier in kind. It might have been an illusion—but the creaking, crumpling sound of their armor suggested otherwise.
“I-I shall open the door. And… if His Highness the Prince is not inside, I will take full responsibility and bring him to you.”
“I shall wait ten minutes.”
“Y-Yes, Your Imperial Highness!”
The knight, who had bowed so deeply his head nearly touched the floor, sprang up and opened the door without even consulting Heathcliff.
As expected, the room beyond the roughly flung-open door was empty. Greta calmly surveyed Heathcliff’s bedroom. Faint footprints marked the wide-open windowsill. Her delicate eyes narrowed slightly in displeasure.
“Search the rear garden.”
“Yes!”
“Yes!”
The knights rushed off.
Greta headed toward the reception sofa in the masterless room. The maids trailing behind her discreetly began brewing the tea she favored most.
Just as Greta took a sip of the tea brewed precisely to her taste—
“Let go of me! You… bastards! Do you really think you’ll get away with this!”
A shameful commotion erupted from afar—the sound of Heathcliff thrashing as knights dragged him along.
“What are you doing! Punish these insolent knights at once!”
Heathcliff bellowed thunderously, yet no one paid him any heed. One of his shoes slipped off as he struggled, but no one bothered to retrieve it.
Thus dragged along, Heathcliff faced Greta, who sat alone in his room sipping tea.
“Your Imperial Highness. We have brought His Highness the Prince.”
“Well done. Seat him before me.”
Greta spoke without even glancing at Heathcliff. The knights promptly walked over and seated Heathcliff on the sofa opposite Greta before leaving the room. Staring blankly at his bare foot, Heathcliff heard the heavy thud of the closing door.
“…….”
“…….”
In the silence so profound it felt as if the world had collapsed, only the elegant sound of Greta sipping her tea could be heard intermittently. Outside, birds chirped merrily about something, their cheerful song grating on the nerves.
After a while, Greta set her half-empty teacup onto its saucer and spoke.
“It seems you haven’t reflected on your actions at all.”
“…….”
“Does the Prince still not grasp the gravity of this situation?”
Greta asked, but Heathcliff remained silent. His stubbornly closed mouth made him look petulant, even childish.
“Are you even aware of what you’ve done?”
“…….”
“Not only did you go to the duchy without my permission, but you also used drugs. And that’s not all—how could you possibly… with Lady Windsor…!”
A vein suddenly bulged near Greta’s graceful temple. The composure she had maintained until now vanished; she now gripped the flawless folds of her skirt tightly. She hissed through clenched teeth.
“To attempt rape! Is this how a prince of this realm should behave!”
Her low, furious voice still trembled with shock.
Only because the Windsors’ status had greatly declined recently was Heathcliff spared; under normal circumstances, he would now be imprisoned not in the prince’s quarters but in the dungeon beneath the Windsor ducal estate. Greta had mobilized every connection and personal fortune she’d amassed over the past three years since Jorgen’s disappearance to prevent exactly this.
‘I knew she doted on her daughter, but I never imagined she’d forsake even the central territories.’
In the end, the wealth Greta had accumulated over the last three years in place of the Windsors had been squandered entirely on bribing the Windsor retainers. It had taken monthly payments to six out of eight retainer families just to barely persuade Jorgen. The sum was truly astronomical, and the more Greta thought about it, the more her stomach churned.
“Do you even realize how much effort I exerted to contain this mess? Why would you commit such reckless, foolish acts, Prince? I told you to wait! If you’d only waited a little longer…!”
“Until when, exactly!”
Heathcliff, silent until now, finally raised his voice. So frustrated was he that he even shot up from his seat.
“I am the Prince, Mother! Just as you are Empress, I am the Prince! What exactly can I do in this position!”
“Prince!”
“We are in love! Is embracing one’s beloved truly such a grave offense? Huh?!”
Heathcliff snarled, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
“Must I endure house arrest for a whole week?!”
Greta was momentarily speechless. Instinctively realizing that matching his anger would never convince him, she let out a faint sigh.
‘I’ll have to handle the letter from the Windsors myself.’
Greta gestured for Heathcliff to sit.
“Ugh…!”
After briefly resisting as if wrestling with some invisible force, Heathcliff finally collapsed helplessly onto the sofa. Huffing furiously, he seemed utterly aggrieved.
Clutching her throbbing temples, Greta groaned.
“Yes, you are the Prince. But… everything has its proper time. Haven’t I told you this repeatedly, my child?”
“I simply cannot understand how there could be a ‘proper time’ even for sharing a bed with one’s lover.”
“The Prince and the Lady are no ordinary lovers. Prince—surely you haven’t forgotten our purpose?”
At her cold tone, Heathcliff—who had been muttering only about his own entitlements—hesitated. Seeing his spirit falter, Greta continued.
“How can you become Emperor if you can’t even endure this brief moment?”
Heathcliff finally fell silent. Those words were the sole leash—and shackle—that could ever control him.
“…Bring me a cup of tea.”
After a long silence, Heathcliff addressed the maid standing beside Greta instead of replying. But the maid didn’t move.
“Didn’t you hear me ask for tea?”
The maid stared blankly into space, appearing utterly devoid of will—but her hands, hidden behind the sofa, trembled violently. Seeing Heathcliff’s eyes twitch uncontrollably, Greta spoke softly to the maid.
“Bring him tea.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.”
Only then did the maid move—as if Heathcliff’s words had never reached her ears at all.
“Ha.”
Heathcliff let out a short, bitter laugh and, before anyone could react, seized the vase at the center of the table and hurled it. The vase was aimed precisely at the maid, who had just bowed toward Greta.
“Huh…!”
The startled maid’s eyes flew wide open—but the vase halted midair. Then, as if it had never been thrown toward her at all, it traced a perfect arc and settled gently back onto the table. At that same instant, Greta rose abruptly from her seat.
“How dare you harm my servant. I now clearly see the Prince is still not in his right mind. It seems you require more time to cool your head. You will remain confined for four more days.”
With the coldest expression she’d worn throughout their conversation, Greta turned and left Heathcliff’s room.
Alone in the room, Heathcliff could endure no longer.
Crash! Smash!
The sound of every object in the room smashing against the firmly shut door echoed loudly, mingled with anguished cries.
“Am I truly the Prince? Am I even the Prince?!”
It was the desperate wail of a man who had lost his place.
Male lead is a Love-Obsessed Merman
When he discovers she has gone, he risks everything to pursue her on land, enduring agonizing pain to transform his tail into human legs…
One-line summary: Male lead chases female lead. The male lead’s love is a bit sick, an invincible love brain.
Synopsis
During a voyage at sea, Jiang Yang accidentally captures a merman.
Servant: I heard that mermen are fierce and brutal.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman obediently rubbing her palm like a puppy: “You call this fierce and brutal?”
Servant: I heard that mermen have no human nature.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman with wet puppy eyes, obsessively calling her ‘A Yang’ like a childish infant: “You call this having no human nature?”
With great difficulty, she releases the merman back into the sea and returns to shore.
Who would have thought that in less than half a month, the merman, who should have been freely wandering in the South China Sea, would shed his scales, endure the pain of losing his tail, transform into human legs, and come ashore to find her?
He kneels at her feet, rubbing her palm, with merman tears rolling down: “A Yang, don’t abandon me.”
_____
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