Picked Up a Beast, Turns Out He's an Emperor (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 14
Clack, clack,
At the sound of hooves cutting through the forest, a flock of birds that had been dozing in the early morning took flight with a flutter. Two men appeared on the forest horizon, clad in short tunics bearing the emblem of a red lion on their shoulders.
The two dismounted and began crossing the river toward a refreshing waterfall. Though not wearing armor, their nimble and fearless gait as they stepped onto the stone bridge was far from ordinary.
As they reached behind the waterfall, a modest cave came into view. They passed through the entrance, where vines had been sliced as if by a sharp blade, and ventured into the darkness.
“It definitely happened here.”
“To think he could reach this cave despite suffering such grievous wounds . . .”
The slender, blond young man spoke, and the older man narrowed the space between his brows and nodded. The dozens of poisoned spears embedded in the Black Panther contained a lethal dose sufficient to kill two adult male lions.
Fzzzt—the young man pulled a small torch from his sleeve and lit it, instantly illuminating the cave.
“Father, look at this! Charred firewood remains!”
Following his son’s gesture, Count Corald’s eyes gleamed sharply as he took in the cold, extinguished pile of logs and the neatly stacked branches and leaves beside it.
“It seems the monster lit a fire.”
“No. Even if he survived, he fled with life-threatening injuries. Moreover, it’s absurd to think a Black Panther would build a campfire. And even if he reverted to human form, he wouldn’t have foolishly stayed here overnight. If he returned to his true form, he’d have fled the cave immediately.”
Count Corald shook his head, knelt before the meticulously stacked firewood, and finished speaking.
“Even if we assume the monster took human form and lit this fire, this isn’t his doing. This was arranged by someone weak—either an old man, a boy . . . or a woman.”
“Then these branches and leaves were also brought by someone other than the monster—someone who tried to help the injured Black Panther?”
Timothy crouched down, sifting through the scattered leaves on the ground, and the count nodded.
“Who . . . who would help such a creature? Anyone from the Empire—or even the continent—knows the law requires reporting or capturing a Black Panther on sight. To aid such a fearless and cruel monster is simply incomprehensible.”
“The world is always full of incomprehensible things—just as humans can transform into monsters.”
The count, who had spent half his life on battlefields, spoke to his still-innocent son Timothy with affectionate eyes.
His gaze shifted from his son, sharpened, and scanned the surroundings thoroughly.
Count Corald, unmatched in collecting and analyzing evidence at any scene, soon discovered faint footprints among the leaves and earthen floor.
The Black Panther had clearly entered the cave on all fours. Following traces invisible to the naked eye, the count deduced that when leaving, however, the creature had walked upright on two legs—accompanied by two other adult men.
A nearly vanished, large barefoot print . . . and the distinct heel marks of two men’s shoes.
Judging by the clarity of the prints, the Black Panther had entered first, and the next day, having returned to human form, left the cave with the two men.
But then . . .
Bending down, the count traced a nearly erased tiny footprint with his finger and murmured softly,
“A woman entered the cave with the Black Panther. She lit the fire and warmed the monster’s body with leaves.”
“So you’re saying some woman helped the Black Panther? Could she herself be a monster—or perhaps a witch practicing dark magic?”
Timothy asked, his large green eyes examining the small footprint where his father’s gaze had lingered.
“I don’t yet know who she is. What matters is that the Black Panther, who should have died, returned to human form the next day and walked out on two feet. Do you understand what that means?”
“Huh? What happened to the monster’s wounds? Even if he turned human, he shouldn’t have been able to stand with such injuries to his abdomen.”
“That’s precisely what puzzles me—I’d very much like to find that woman and ask her myself.”
Count Corald’s eyes lingered again on the earthen floor, then shifted toward the far end of the cave, opposite the entrance. The footprints were identical.
One or two days later, the same small footprints had returned to the cave—not stopping at the firewood and leaves, but going deeper inside.
Following the nearly faded trail, the count stepped further into the cave, with Timothy hurrying after him.
Amid a cairn of dozens of stones of varying sizes, he discovered a small hole in the center.
“Ha!”
The count gasped, reached in, and pulled out a white slip of paper.
Standing beside his father, Timothy’s eyes wavered with shock as he looked at the unfolded note.
“What kingdom’s script is this?”
The characters were utterly unfamiliar—some resembling drawings, others bearing vague similarity to the Empire’s script.
“It’s ancient script.”
Count Corald replied briefly, as if he himself could hardly believe it, studying the delicate handwriting.
Judging by the script, it was written by a young woman. That a young woman could write in Grithar Ancient Tongue was astonishing.
Grithar Ancient Tongue—the language once used by ancient gods and mythical beings during their time among humans. Though it lasted until the early days of the Empire’s founding, it had vanished from scholarly circles for the past millennium.
“What does it say?”
“I can’t read most of it. But I see… Emperor… Imperial Palace…”
Frowning, Count Corald struggled repeatedly to decipher the words before finally uttering the last phrase into the depths of the cave:
“Starting today… two months later…”
His son’s bewildered, clear eyes stared at him. Count Corald le Hancriere—the Empire’s finest monster hunter—straightened his posture and spoke slowly.
“His Majesty the Emperor may be in danger. We must return to the capital.”
The old count crumpled the note in his hand, having sworn never again to repeat the failure of failing to protect Crown Prince Luca. The woman who could write in ancient script held the key to capturing the monster.
[This is the timeline separator]“Oh my, how beautiful!”
“You look absolutely stunning in this! Like a fairy herself!”
Surrounded by Marquis Laurell’s head maid and maids, Arabella stood awkwardly before the mirror as they lavished her with effusive praise.
Of course, flattering the noblewoman favored by the Emperor was undoubtedly advantageous—but even objectively, the three women were genuinely enchanted by Arabella’s loveliness.
When she’d been carried into the bedroom, covered in soot and smeared with sweat and tears, they hadn’t realized just how astonishingly fair-skinned she was. Her complexion wasn’t merely pale—it was translucently clear, as if glowing from within.
“How can your skin be so soft and supple…? Is this why His Majesty is so taken with you?”
The head maid had murmured involuntarily while assisting Arabella’s bath.
Having served the flirtatious marquis and his son, these maids were seasoned connoisseurs of beauty.
Yet Arabella, at first glance, was strikingly plain—so ordinary she lacked any obvious distinction. It was almost miraculous that the Emperor had brought such an unassuming noblewoman, one who wouldn’t stand out among aristocratic ladies, into his arms with such evident affection.
Petite and slender, with an unremarkable face—nothing about her was dazzlingly beautiful. It was merely astonishing that her delicate, tiny features all fit so perfectly onto her narrow face. Only her large, clear eyes, reminiscent of a newborn fawn’s, left a faint impression.
She possessed neither dazzling glamour, seductive charm, nor a voluptuous figure—yet inexplicably, she drew people’s attention.
Arabella lacked the blazing, magnetic beauty that instantly captivated onlookers.
Instead, she radiated a gentle allure like moonlight, calm like a still lake. At first glance unremarkable, but after spending even a short while with her, her kind and pure energy warmly and peacefully colored the atmosphere around her.
She was the first noblewoman they’d met who offered sincere, unfeigned respect and gratitude. Her shy yet genuine demeanor and actions touched the maids deeply.
Though long jaded by aristocrats, these maids found themselves wanting to care for Arabella—even without her asking. Her charm lay not in conventional prettiness, but in something deeper that tugged at the heart.
“Don’t I look like someone else? Couldn’t I just wear the clothes I brought?”
Arabella pleaded, standing in the lavender organza dress, and all three women shook their heads firmly in unison.
The dress had been specially tailored by the marquis’s son for his lover—but thanks to the Emperor’s visit last night, it had nearly remained forever hidden in its box.
“The clothes you brought are too soot-stained to wear.”
Half-true, half-false. It was true that Arabella’s two old dresses—so humble they were almost shameful for a noblewoman—had been scorched. Yet they could have been worn after a simple wash.
But seeing how exquisitely the dress suited her, the maids simply couldn’t let her wear those old garments. Though the marquis’s son’s lover had been taller and fuller-figured than Arabella, it posed no issue.
With practiced skill, the three swiftly altered the dress to fit Arabella perfectly. Quite a bit of fabric now lay discarded on the carpet.
Having served the fashion-conscious and trend-sensitive marchioness for years, the head maid’s eye and needlework were exceptional.
Her hands deftly braided Arabella’s long, wavy brown hair tightly on both sides, coiling it into a neat bun at the back of her head.
She secured the updo with a violet velvet ribbon and added a small hairpin adorned with pearls and amethyst to accent one side.
Catching the ever-elusive noblewoman, they dabbed her plump, petite lips with a natural tint made from crushed rose and peony petals. It suited her perfectly—her lips now evoked ripe, sweet fruit.
Imagining the Emperor’s pleased expression, the maids couldn’t suppress their smiles.
Though the neckline wasn’t low-cut, the round neck of the dress elegantly revealed Arabella’s milky, slender throat.
The high-waisted empire-style gown concealed her petite, slender frame’s shortcomings while highlighting her dignified grace and elegance.
Finally finished, the head maid and maids admired their handiwork with evident satisfaction.
“Look—without even doing much, you’re already this beautiful! This is your true self, my lady.”
The head maid clasped her hands together and spoke with heartfelt sincerity, making Arabella’s cheeks flush crimson.
Though her reflection felt unfamiliar and awkward… she felt a flutter of excitement—because she’d soon show this look to him.
‘He’ll surely tease me.’
Thinking this, even Arabella’s neck turned deep pink.
Knock, knock.
As the maid opened the door, the Emperor stood before them.
Bathed in sunlight from the opposite window, the Emperor’s beauty was so dazzling it was hard to look directly at him. Dressed in a simple navy-blue uniform, he was so breathtakingly handsome her heart fluttered.
Moreover, his flawlessly handsome face was perfectly seasoned with a hint of decadent charm—causing the three middle-aged women to hold their breath and swallow hard.
“I came to take you to breakfast.”
That the Emperor himself had come—when he easily could have sent someone else—was not lost on the perceptive trio. After bowing deeply to him, they swiftly slipped past his side and out the bedroom door, remembering to close it firmly behind them.
“Did you sleep well last—”
The Emperor’s long strides halted abruptly mid-sentence as his gaze fell on Arabella standing before the mirror. His lips pressed into a firm line, words left unfinished.
Arabella quickly turned, gathered her dress hem, and curtsied deeply, bending both waist and knees. At her nod, the Emperor’s expression shifted in a strangely complex way.
“I slept well, thanks to you. Did Your Majesty rest peacefully as well?”
Her cheeks blushed as red as rose petals as she asked without meeting his eyes.
Even without looking, she felt his gaze upon her. Her chest fluttered as if hundreds of butterflies were taking flight.
Tap, tap. The sound of the Emperor’s shoes drew nearer. In her downcast eyes appeared his gray shoes. His long, firm index and middle fingers tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze.
From the center of his crimson eyes, golden heat radiated outward as his red lips slowly parted.
“Do you really intend to go down to the garden like this for breakfast? To join the local nobles who’ve gathered to welcome me?”
His husky baritone voice whispered into her ear, making Arabella’s eyes waver in confusion.
‘He must dislike this look. He seems displeased.’
Compared to the noble ladies of the capital, she must appear utterly provincial.
Even as a false empress candidate, she might embarrass him before the aristocracy… Her large eyes drooped helplessly with this realization—when the hand under her chin folded, and his thumb settled gently on her lower lip.
His broad thumb slowly, deliberately smudged the soft pink tint from her lips.
Startled, Arabella stepped back—but his other hand swiftly caught her waist.
He pulled her slight frame into his arms, holding her close so she couldn’t escape. In the silent bedroom, where even breaths sounded vivid, the Emperor’s deepened crimson eyes fixed intently on her reddened lips.
His thumb, which had been rubbing her lips slowly, stopped at the center of her lower lip.
Applying slight pressure, her lips parted just enough to create a small gap. The Emperor lowered his head and waist deeply until their eyes aligned. His crimson gaze relentlessly trapped her gentle, evasive eyes.
He tilted his head slightly closer, until their lips were nearly touching, then breathed warm air between them and whispered,
“Oh dear, your lips are quite ruined now. We can’t possibly go outside for breakfast. We’ll have no choice but to eat here in your room before setting off.”
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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I’m not yet convinced this is a curse. There are a lot of questionable events. Why would a black panther kidnap a princess?
I’ve been wondering just how he intends to keep her alive and unharmed enough to even attempt lifting the curse. I don’t believe these classes will be enough if she only had four days.
Is she not concerned because the emperor told her she wasn’t going to become the empress regardless? He explicitly stated she only needed to break his curse & that she wouldn’t become the empress as she wasn’t qualified (I don’t recall his precise wording).