WTSP - 1

Year 420 of the Carlot Empire, Spring.

It was the day Serdelius Carlot, who had ascended to the throne at the age of eighteen and wielded immense power, would take his fourth empress.

As the signal announcing the emperor's arrival rang out, all the ministers standing inside the Grand Hall bowed their heads.

Emperor Serdelius surveyed his surroundings with an indifferent expression.

His dark, starless-night hair and deep green eyes gave him the air of a man born noble—a masterpiece crafted by the gods themselves.

"You may raise your heads."

His low, resonant voice echoed like a ripple through the hall.

The Minister of Internal Affairs, who had been observing the emperor’s countenance, cleared his throat at what he deemed the appropriate moment. Though this was a role he had performed countless times before, tension still gripped him anew.

"Lady Ophelia of the Meredith family enters."

Creeeak. The heavy iron doors creaked open noisily on both sides.

Soon after, a woman clad in pale sky-blue entered, walking along the golden carpet.

The beautiful maiden with snow-white hair immediately captured everyone's attention upon her appearance.

Her hair, whiter and more mysterious than winter snow, swayed gently as she moved.

Ophelia Meredith, the woman destined for the position of the fourth empress, stopped before the emperor and bowed respectfully.

"… I greet the sole sun of the Carlot Empire."

Serdelius gazed down at Ophelia with an uninterested look.

The daughter of an obscure baron family whose name was barely known. His decision to take her as his fourth empress stemmed solely from the fact that the Meredith family was a powerless neutral house.

His first impression of Ophelia? A depressingly obedient noblewoman—nothing more, nothing less.

And truly, even now, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She resembled a docile lamb.

‘How dull. So painfully obvious.’

Noticing the emperor’s gaze, Ophelia hid her trembling fingertips. The color drained from her face little by little.

She had lived as the “flower” of the Meredith family for over twenty years.

Though this future was never what she desired, if her marriage could lend strength to her father and two older brothers…

Ophelia bit down hard on the tender flesh of her lip. Tears threatened to spill over.

‘I can do this. I have to do well.’

Ophelia, delicate as a flower nurtured in a greenhouse, muttered to herself inwardly.

As the Minister of Internal Affairs observed the picturesque beauty of the two figures before him, he began reading aloud the oath he held in his hands.

After reciting various formalities about the duties of an empress, he finally reached the concluding sentence.

"Therefore, Ophelia of the Meredith family is hereby crowned as the fourth empress of Emperor Carlot."

Upon hearing the contents of the oath, Ophelia slowly knelt, clutching the hem of her dress in both hands.

Traditionally, during the coronation ceremony, the emperor would bestow jewelry upon the woman being crowned empress. Serdelius was no exception.

With an impassive face, he handed Ophelia a necklace box.

"I shall accept you as my final empress."

As Ophelia gazed at the shimmering silver necklace, her eyes clouded with complex emotions.

So this was it. She would now live out the rest of her life trapped in the gilded cage of the imperial palace… This too was her fate, and she would accept it.

With a sad smile, Ophelia nodded faintly.

But then—

‘...Huh?’

In an instant, Ophelia’s vision flashed white.

This couldn’t happen now.

Her heart raced uncontrollably—thump, thump, thump. Strength drained from her pale fingertips.

A wave of intense dizziness spread throughout her body, making it difficult to maintain her balance.

‘What should I do? I feel so dizzy.’

Though Ophelia was accustomed to bouts of anemia as much as breathing, she instinctively sensed something was different this time.

Like a single drop of black ink falling into an otherwise calm pond, her vision gradually darkened to black.

Thud. As the protagonist of the coronation collapsed onto the floor, the ministers exchanged bewildered glances.

“…What on earth just happened? Did Her Majesty faint?”

“I’d heard she was frail, but… this is quite the predicament. Shouldn’t we call a physician immediately?”

“Hmm, who would’ve thought something like this would happen during a coronation… Truly troublesome.”

Amidst the murmurs of flustered ministers, a faint groan escaped from the lips of the fallen Ophelia.

Regaining consciousness momentarily, she staggered as she tried to lift her upper body.

Serdelius stared at the woman who had become his consort with an unreadable expression.

‘…She resembles a withered lark.’

The faint noise reaching his ears displeased him.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, another sound interrupted him.

Thunk!

What followed was an eerie, spine-chilling silence.

“Wha—what is the meaning of this outrage! How dare—!”

Breaking the silence, a cry of astonishment escaped someone’s lips. Serdelius tilted his head slightly and looked down at the necklace lying at his feet.

The very necklace he had personally bestowed upon the empress mere minutes ago now lay discarded on the ground.

Their gazes met in midair. The woman who dared throw the necklace back at the emperor locked eyes with him.

Where had the submissive girl who swallowed her suffering gone? All that remained were fiercely intense eyes burning with resolve.

In Ophelia’s pink irises shone heat, anger, and a will for change.

It was as though she had transformed into an entirely different person in an instant.

“…How intriguing. Very fascinating.”

Serdelius leaned forward slowly, his smooth, unblemished fingertips brushing against Ophelia’s chin.

“It seems you’re like a lark flapping its wings, desperate to escape its cage.”

Ophelia Meredith. These words were a whisper meant only for her ears.

At that moment, Ophelia abruptly seized Serdelius’s wrist. The grip was shockingly strong for someone of her delicate frame.

Her fingers tightened around his wrist with surprising force. Unconsciously, Ophelia thought:

‘I don’t want to spend my entire life trapped in a mold.’

Suddenly, a silvery blade filled her vision. The murmurs of unfamiliar voices echoed in her ears like reverberations.

The ornate chandelier swayed weakly, and her feather-light body wavered once more.

It was an unprecedented coronation in the history of the empire.

---

Youngest national fencing champion, Olympic silver medalist’s only daughter, world ranking fifth in women’s sabre fencing.

The list of titles preceding the name Seo Yeon-hee was so long it was hard to count them all on two hands.

My father retired solemnly after claiming the silver medal at his final Olympics, and naturally, I followed in his footsteps as an athlete.

But what I truly wanted to become wasn’t a national athlete—it was a novelist.

There was no way my father, who insisted that studying and reading were unnecessary and pushed me toward sports, could understand my hobby. Still, I continued to dream of becoming a writer.

Every night, under the pen name “Heeya,” I secretly wrote two thousand words of a novel.

The genre was romantic fantasy, featuring a commoner-born empress as the protagonist.

Admittedly, it was a cliché, but I firmly believed that my tastes aligned with those of the masses.

It didn’t take long for me to realize how wrong I was.

…My novel sank into obscurity with abysmal view counts, buried deep in the digital abyss.

But even for a “deep-sea writer” like me, an unbelievable miracle occurred. First, a publishing company offered to publish my work. Second…

‘To think I threw something at the emperor the moment I got possessed. My life has become so dramatic.’

Yes, I had been possessed.

After arguing with my father, I woke up to find myself dropped into the world of some novel, unconscious.

My father must have been shocked when his loud, argumentative daughter suddenly vanished.

Seeing the tearful faces of Baron Meredith and the maids upon my awakening, I could only imagine how confused they were.

The stubborn royal physician, after exchanging a few words with me, diagnosed me with temporary amnesia.

“What is the meaning of this! Why doesn’t our daughter recognize even her own father?”

“It appears Her Majesty suffered a shock during yesterday’s coronation and temporarily lost her memory. Such cases are not uncommon. She must have been overwhelmed by her own actions. After all, isn’t it understandable? She’ll recover soon enough.”

Who was this empress, and what coronation were they talking about?

For three days after waking up as Ophelia Meredith, I denied reality again and again.

But as the days passed without any change in my situation, I had no choice but to accept it.

I had truly been transported into the body of Ophelia Meredith, an extra in my own novel.

My sole written work, A Common Girl Becomes Empress, told the story of a commoner girl ascending to the imperial throne.

It was a disastrous failure, lacking both coherence and excitement, yet it was also my most painful creation.

Brilliant and beautiful commoner girl Brilline and the emperor Serdelius, who fell in love with her at first sight.

Their spectacular and sweet love story was supposed to captivate readers—but honestly, even I knew how absurd the plot was.

Clearly, while I might excel in fencing, I had zero talent for writing.

I didn’t know how to craft a solid plot with clear exposition, development, climax, and resolution, nor how to smoothly connect sentences.

—Does this author even know anything about romance? The male and female leads’ emotional arcs make no sense. I’m dropping this series.

Whenever I recalled that one and only comment, I couldn’t help but sigh.

Publication? It really was an absurd proposal.

Sighing, I stood before a silver-framed wall mirror.

Black hair and chestnut eyes—the typical Korean appearance I once had was now replaced by the white-haired empress.

Who could have imagined I’d possess pink-hued eyes and hair as white as winter snow?

Truthfully, I’d never envisioned Ophelia’s appearance.

She was merely a fleeting character, an extra among extras explained in a single line.

[The fourth empress position was taken by Ophelia of the Meredith family.]

Thus, I had no information about Ophelia.

All I learned in the past few days was that she was the frail youngest daughter of a powerless baron family, had two older brothers, and became the emperor’s consort almost as if sold off.

‘She faints so often it’s ridiculous. She’s practically a paper doll.’

Never in history had anyone fainted during an empress coronation.

Ophelia’s story would surely be recorded in the annals of history and passed down for generations.

And not only that—she dared to throw the emperor’s gift back at him…

According to Lena, the maid who had served Ophelia since her days at her natal home, everyone present had been stunned at that moment.

Unfairly, I had no memory of it. It was fortunate the emperor showed mercy and didn’t execute Ophelia on the spot.

‘Then again… to throw a necklace at Serdelius…’

The emperor I had created was exactly the kind of character capable of such cold-bloodedness.

…I should have made him endlessly kind and warm instead.

By becoming Serdelius’s empress, I had unknowingly placed myself in a precarious situation where death could come at any moment. After all, the emperor was set to be cold-hearted to everyone except the woman he loved.

I resolved to do something—anything. Determined, I rose from my bed and opened the door.

Though I had been ordered to stay put until summoned by the emperor, I couldn’t bear the restlessness any longer.

Thinking some fresh air might clear my mind, I stepped out of the empress’s quarters.

And thus, I came face-to-face with the last person I wanted to encounter.

Year 420 of the Imperial Calendar.

The most cold-blooded emperor in history.

This was my second meeting with Serdelius Carlot.