Men of the Harem (137 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 8
On the day of the coronation, Latril stood before the mirror in the Emperor’s ceremonial robes, lost in emotion. She felt joy, sorrow, exhilaration, and fear all at once.
“Yumo, do you remember? Six years ago.”
Latril wiggled her fingers from inside a fluffy red cloak and asked.
“Back then, I wanted to become Empress—Carissen’s Empress.”
“Of course I do. I remember everything.”
Yumo gazed at Latril with pride, but eventually a tear spilled from her eye.
“Why are you crying on such a happy day, Yumo?”
“Oh dear. I’m sorry. How foolish of me.”
Latril quickly stepped forward and hugged Yumo tightly.
“It’s just… I wish Her Majesty the Empress could have seen you like this…”
“Yumo, someone who doesn’t know us might get the wrong idea. Her Majesty is perfectly healthy—just come visit and show her yourself.”
Latril let out a soft laugh and patted Yumo’s back.
“I know. It’s just that she won’t get to see the coronation, and that day is so special…”
“Well then, couldn’t we just make a similar coronation outfit and show it to her?”
“Once you become His Majesty the Emperor, you’ll be even busier, and every action you take will come with restrictions. Do you really think you’ll be able to travel all the way to that distant temple?”
“Still, I should go at least once.”
It would be even better if Her Majesty could return in person—but Latril silently swallowed this wish, knowing it was unlikely to come true. Yumo wiped her eyes quickly with her sleeve, sniffling to hold back her tears.
“She’ll be so happy.”
“Yeah.”
Latril’s heart swelled with emotion.
“Yumo, you used to be so much bigger than me—I’d fit snugly in your arms. Now it’s the other way around; you fit right into mine.”
“Your Highness…”
“Thank you. For always being by my side.”
Because the late Emperor believed Yumo made Latril complacent, he dismissed her while Latril underwent heir training.
Because of this, Yumo had returned to her original territory—and thus, even though Prince Tulla seized the palace for nearly a year, she managed to survive.
“Oh dear, my eyes are getting red.”
Latril released Yumo and gently wiped her own damp eyes. She couldn’t afford to cry today, no matter how touched she felt—but seeing Yumo cry kept bringing tears to her own eyes.
Latril slapped her cheeks a few times with both hands.
‘Don’t cry.’
Right—she couldn’t cry. She had to show everyone—those who’d supported her, those who doubted her, and even those who hadn’t openly aided Prince Tulla but secretly sympathized with him—who the true Emperor was and just how dignified she could be.
Just as she finished preparing and was about to leave, however—
“Your Majesty. His Highness Prince Reysian has arrived.”
Captain Sarnet announced Prince Lean’s visit.
“Oppa?”
Delighted, Latril opened the door herself to welcome him.
On coronation day, Lean had declared he wouldn’t attend, saying it would be inappropriate for the former Crown Prince to show his face. But his sudden, unannounced visit filled her with joy.
“Did you change your mind? You just couldn’t miss seeing your little sister look amazing, could you?”
However, Lean’s expression wasn’t cheerful at all as he stepped inside.
“What’s wrong?”
When Latril asked with concern, Lean sat down on a backless red chair and spoke.
“I figured you might feel slighted if I didn’t show up at all—and I had something to say, so I came briefly. But this isn’t an official visit; I’ll be leaving again soon.”
“You’re really not going to attend the ceremony?”
“I think it’s for the best. More importantly, Latril—I heard you executed Tulla and placed Anakcha under house arrest.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you really have to execute Tulla?”
“Was that all you came to say—lectures?”
Latril sat down opposite Lean with a flat expression. Lean sighed and took her hand in his.
“Latril. We never got along well with Tulla. Things soured completely when he seized the palace. But he’s still your older brother—and my younger sibling. We share the same blood.”
“I know.”
“But did you really need to spill blood? Excessive bloodshed isn’t good. At the beginning of your reign, you should show mercy.”
“You could afford to be merciful because you were the legitimate Crown Prince—there were hardly any who opposed you. But not me. All throughout my time as Crown Princess, I was constantly compared to Tulla, to you, to our other siblings. Hundreds of nobles were actively searching for a ‘better’ choice than me.”
“!”
“This wasn’t the time for me to show mercy. I needed to show strength. And…”
Latril leaned halfway forward and whispered into Lean’s ear.
“I’d rather see a thousand enemies bleed than watch a hundred of my own people suffer.”
After delivering those resolute words, Latril smiled brightly—as if she hadn’t just said something terrifying. Lean sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead, clearly disagreeing with her.
But he didn’t press the matter further. The one becoming Emperor was his younger sister—and she was the one who had weathered all the trials. What she needed from him now wasn’t more lectures, but trust—the kind he himself lacked when faced with the very path she was about to take.
Lean stood silently and pulled Latril into a tight embrace.
[This is the timeline separator]After Lean left, there was no more time to hesitate. Latril headed toward the Grand Banquet Hall, where her coronation would take place.
A crimson carpet lay in the center of the hall, surrounded by nobles and officials of every rank. On one side, priests from the Grand Temple huddled around the imperial crown, whispering among themselves.
Latril gazed at the scene and smiled faintly. Strangely, all her tension had vanished. The maddening itch on her tongue that had plagued her throughout preparations gradually subsided.
As Latril appeared to the sound of booming drums and blaring trumpets, the entire hall fell silent. The crowd parted further to either side, revealing a clear path toward the imperial throne.
Instead of looking at the nobles, Latril fixed her eyes on the crown placed at the end of the red carpet. With a calm smile, she walked toward it.
When she stopped before the crown, a senior priest carefully lifted it and offered it to her. Latril placed the crown upon her head and ascended a small dais.
The anxious Crown Princess who had fretted to Yumo, “What if the crown sits crooked? It’ll ruin the whole effect!”—was no longer here.
‘I am the Emperor.’
Standing before the throne, filled with satisfaction, Latril swept her gaze over the nobles and ministers below her. One by one, those assembled knelt on one knee and bowed their heads in loyalty.
The moment everyone lowered their heads, Latril felt a surge of exhilaration course through her spine.
[This is the timeline separator]Following Tarium’s tradition, Latril presided over her first imperial council that very evening after the coronation.
The purpose of this first council wasn’t to delve into minor affairs, but rather to outline the overall direction of her reign and present her vision for governance. It was also common on this day for high-ranking officials to be replaced with the new Emperor’s trusted appointees.
But Latril decided to fill only the positions left vacant due to Prince Tulla’s involvement, leaving the majority of ministers as they were during her father’s reign.
Aside from her years in Lord Meloshi’s territory, Latril had only been Crown Princess for two short years.
Not only had she lacked time to cultivate a loyal inner circle, but most of the pro-Emperor faction had already aligned themselves with her under Duke Atraxi’s leadership—so there was no urgent need for replacements.
Moreover, her father’s close aides were still in their prime. Rather than hastily sweeping out the old guard, Latril’s plan was to retain these experienced officials and gradually align them with her own vision.
Naturally, there was little resistance, and the council proceeded smoothly without complaints—until the discussion turned to the Emperor’s consort and heir, at which point the atmosphere began to shift.
The ministers started voicing conflicting opinions, and Latril’s previously serene expression hardened slightly.
An heir was crucial for any Emperor.
It wasn’t that Latril was upset they brought up the issue of succession on the very first council—that was expected. What bothered her was the underlying assumption in their tone.
“Unlike previous Emperors who could take multiple concubines in addition to an Empress to ensure an heir, Your Majesty can only take one consort, correct?”
“Therefore, we must swiftly welcome a consort to secure the stability of the Imperial House.”
“For the sake of Your Majesty’s health, producing an heir must be the top priority.”
“We implore Your Majesty to focus on welcoming a consort without delay.”
Latril quietly watched the ministers while repeatedly clenching and unclenching her royal seal before finally shaking her head. Did they really think she’d just sit back and listen to this?
She could accept the general notion that an heir must be produced quickly. Imperial family matters were never purely personal, and succession had always been a recurring topic at past imperial councils.
Legend even told of one famously ill-tempered Emperor who, enraged, once hurled his royal seal and shouted, “Am I some stud horse?!”
But what truly upset Latril was something else entirely.
‘Why do they assume I can only take one consort? These people are strange—they act as if it’s obvious I can’t have concubines just because I’m a woman?’
She hadn’t become Emperor to build a harem, nor had she ever expected one.
In fact, since becoming Crown Princess, she’d been running nonstop without a moment’s rest—she’d never even given the idea serious thought.
Just remembering Hyacinth was overwhelming enough. With the very question of whether she could become Emperor hanging over her, she’d had no mental space left for fantasies about harems.
Yet now, right before her eyes, these ministers were proceeding from the unquestioned premise that “as a female Emperor, you cannot take male concubines,” and discussing only the selection of a consort—which stirred an odd, stubborn defiance in her.
During her time as Crown Princess, Latril had read records of past imperial councils dozens of times—especially those from the first day, which she had reviewed so often she could nearly recite them by heart.
In every single one of those councils, ministers had urged Emperors to secure Empresses and heirs—and even more frequently urged them to take concubines.
‘But now they’re telling me I can only welcome one consort? That a female Emperor can’t have concubines?’
Perhaps it would have been different if the ministers had brought up concubines first—but she couldn’t know for sure. What she did know was that because they assumed she absolutely wouldn’t take any, she now wanted to—just to prove them wrong.
Latril smirked inwardly.
As she’d already told Oppa Lean, she intended to be a strong sovereign. She had no intention of letting herself be swayed by those constantly comparing her to Lean, Tulla, or other members of the Imperial Family.
And…
‘Now that I think about it… a harem doesn’t sound bad at all.’
Why not? After all, she had no intention of welcoming a consort right now anyway.
There were several reasons.
First—though it stung her pride—Latril still hadn’t fully recovered from the trauma Hyacinth had caused. Her busy schedule had helped her forget him, but the moment someone mentioned “husband,” Hyacinth and the pain he’d inflicted immediately resurfaced in her mind.
In this state, she had no desire to welcome a ‘real’ husband just yet.
Second, she didn’t want power to be diluted by a consort before she’d fully solidified her own foundation.
But if she took no one at all, she’d be bombarded daily with demands about producing an heir—making it impossible to govern effectively. By establishing a harem and taking several male concubines, at the very least, they would serve as a buffer against constant pressure over the succession issue.
Having made up her mind, Latril smiled faintly and opened her mouth.
“I have carefully considered your words, my lords.”
The moment Latril spoke, the entire chamber fell deathly silent. A rush of pleasure suddenly coursed through her—there was something deliciously intoxicating about how every minister, official, and noble would fall silent at her mere utterance.
Hyacinth… Is this why you abandoned me? Because of this feeling?
“You are right. The stability of the Imperial House stems from a solid line of succession. I fully understand your urging to welcome a consort quickly.”
As Latril nodded, a faint smile appeared at the corner of Duke Atraxi’s lips.
Having supported Latril early on, he had firmly secured his position as a founding minister of her reign—and likely expected to hear his son Ranamun’s name from her lips.
Indeed, just moments earlier, the ministers had repeatedly mentioned Ranamun as the leading candidate for consort. In terms of appearance, lineage, Duke Atraxi’s accomplishments, and age, Ranamun was objectively the perfect choice.
Latril noticed the subtle smile forming on Duke Atraxi’s lips.
‘I feel a bit bad for the Duke. He’s helped me so much.’
But she had to say what needed to be said.
“Therefore, I have decided to first take several male concubines.”
Male lead Asks for a Divorce Every Day
It’s not often you come across a plot like this in the female-dominant genre — make sure to check it out!
This is a novel I’m planning to reread as well.
The male lead is strong, skilled in martial arts, and not the usual fragile type you often see in matriarchal novels.
Meanwhile, the female lead is a scientist—rational and logical. Even when she falls for the male lead, she doesn’t let her emotions cloud her decisions.
If you push through the first few chapters, you’ll gradually find the story really intriguing.
It has a mix of mystery, detective elements, and romance.
The author’s writing style is like crafting a puzzle—except they deliberately leave out a few pieces, making it hard to predict what happens next, yet keeping you hooked.
In the end, everything will come together and be explained.
One-sentence summary: Wife, stop playing with beakers and look at me!
In a laboratory accident, research scientist Zhu Wansheng accidentally travels to a matriarchal world. The original owner of the body is an eighteen-year-old only daughter of a wealthy rouge merchant, already married with a handsome young man.
Zhu Wansheng grins: Nice! She always said she was heaven’s favorite granddaughter. After a life of toil in her previous life, she can enjoy blessings in this one.
However, her joy lasts no more than three seconds as bad news arrives: the original owner’s family is about to go bankrupt, and her husband wants a divorce.
Even worse, she’s stuck with a research system full of restrictions.
Zhu Wansheng: ? Is this the destiny of a research dog?
——
Faced with this mess, Zhu Wansheng pours herself a bowl of wine to drown her sorrows. In her drunken haze, her husband arrives.
His figure is imposing, holding a long sword, with a dignified air that captivates Zhu Wansheng.
Gu Yingqing, however, looks at the alcohol-reeking Zhu Wansheng with undisguised disgust and coldly asks, “Divorce or not?” The intoxicated Zhu Wansheng mumbles vaguely, “I think… it’s not… it’s not… impossible!”
——
The next day, after sobering up, Zhu Wansheng is full of energy, rolling up her sleeves ready to make a big move. As for yesterday? She has no memory of it.
Zhu Wansheng is ambitious; a research dog fears nothing!
Upgrading rouge, extracting fragrances, producing perfumes, researching lipsticks… all shall bow to the power of modern technology!
The original owner’s dying rouge shop is revitalized. Her mother is pleased and with a wave of her hand, passes on the family business to her. As she takes control and her experimental results gain popularity, it’s the pinnacle of her life…
——
But there are always those who can’t stand to see her doing well. Jealousy, scheming, assassination attempts – they want nothing less than her life.
The person who has always kept his distance from her suddenly holds her tightly in his arms, eyes full of concern.
She is unharmed, but he falls into a pool of blood…
Zhu Wansheng feels guilty, “I can grant you one wish.”
Gu Yingqing tentatively circles his arms around her, carefully resting his head in the crook of her neck, pleading softly, “I regret it. Can we not divorce?”
Zhu Wansheng: ? When did I agree to a divorce?
[Small Theater]
The newly developed rouge is beautifully packaged, and Zhu Wansheng is eager to try it.
Gu Yingqing suddenly appears: “My lady, may I apply it for you?”
Cool fingertips lightly brush her lips. His Adam’s apple bobs as he leans in for a light bite.
Zhu Wansheng: ?
Gu Yingqing: It smells so good, I wanted to taste it…
On a warm spring day, Zhu Wansheng tries a new perfume: “Spring Night.” Gu Yingqing corners her against a wall.
Warm breath lingers on her neck.
“My lady, from now on, may I test the fragrances for you?”
[Humorous female scientist vs scheming live-in son-in-law male lead]
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
Well, I expected that she would take concubines from other countries as they helped her with ascension.
The revenge against Hyacinth is quite harsh. A man wouldn’t expect something like that, especially one as narcissistic.
Well, it’s quite fun. It’s interesting and light to read. Feelings of the characters are exposed clearly. 👍🏻