The Billionaire CEO Becomes the Youngest Emperor

As agreed, two days after the contract was signed, a delegation of workers from the Tenth Empire was scheduled to arrive and begin construction on the newly acquired land within the Thirteenth Empire.

However, they had demanded not to work alongside the natives.

Over a hundred of them crossed the empire's borders. Among them were mages, skilled laborers, and towering individuals whose strength rivaled that of the most seasoned swordsmen.

Very few people were aware of their arrival. In the emperor's absence, Chris was supposed to oversee the matter. But due to a last-minute mission assigned by Lucian, he was currently away in a remote estate, far from the capital.

The foreigners had entered through the empire's far north, while the territory granted to them lay in the southwest. Depending on their pace, it would take them at least a full day to reach their destination.

With Emperor Lucian absent, the responsibility should have fallen to the chief butler, Chris. However, that role once belonged to the now-dissolved council of ministers, whose noble members had all been stripped of their titles.

Anticipating this, Lucian had made arrangements: by decree, he had appointed an official representative of the Thirteenth Empire to welcome the envoys from the Tenth Empire.

In the grand reception hall of the palace, a woman waited gracefully for the guests to arrive.

"Her short black hair framed her face elegantly, and her velvet gown—deep purple and embroidered with gold thread—accentuated her natural presence."

This woman was Octavia Moon.

A guard entered the vast hall and bowed respectfully.

"Madam Moon, the envoys from the Tenth Empire have arrived. They are now on their way to the palace."

"Very well. Understood," she replied with calm assurance.

The guard nodded and quietly exited the hall.

Though she had spoken with composure, Octavia was seething inside.

How dare he sell a tenth of our land?!

She calmly brought her teacup to her lips, but her fingers trembled ever so slightly.

True, the land is barren and uninhabited… but handing it over to another empire is no different from kneeling before them!

Her eyes narrowed, dark with fury.

To think I once believed—even for a moment—that the Empire could change…

A particular memory resurfaced in her mind: Boris Zand's intervention during the last major council meeting.

Now I understand… It was a deal he struck long ago with the Tenth Empire.

She clenched her teeth.

Even though the Thirteenth Empire currently stood no chance against the Tenth—neither militarily nor economically—Octavia Moon was not the kind to give up without a fight.

No… that was a trait woven into the very blood of the Moon lineage: A resolve as constant as the MOONlight, unwavering until the final moment.

But this time, her hands were tied. The decision had come from the Empire's highest authority. She could not oppose it.

The task Lucian had entrusted to her was deceptively simple:

Make sure the Velt payment is accurate.

He had even dared to refer to the funds from the sale of national land as "his Velts."

And this is the same man who claims to fight corruption?

Whatever esteem Octavia once held for the so-called "true Lucian" was plummeting rapidly.

But no matter what she felt…

Orders… were meant to be obeyed.

___

Meanwhile.

Lucian, seated in his carriage, was on his way back to the palace.

Since his meeting with Ria, a vague unease had taken root within him—an intangible urgency, like a silent alarm vibrating deep within his consciousness.

Was it instinct warning him?

Or simply an overactive imagination?

No… this feeling has nothing to do with instinct.

Lucian placed a hand against his chest, his brow furrowed. As a seasoned former CEO on Earth, he knew how to recognize intuition—the subtle, familiar stirrings forged by experience and rapid situational analysis.

But this?

This was something else.

Almost supernatural.

Calm down… Aside from the dimensional opening in two months, there's no reason for this agitation. Even then, I'm ready. I can handle it.

He repeated the words like a mantra, trying to smother the unrest clawing at his nerves.

In vain.

The sensation only grew stronger, more oppressive.

At last, he slammed his hand against the carriage window frame and shouted:

"Faster!"

"Y-yes, sir!" stammered the driver, cracking the reins in haste.

The carriage lurched forward, gaining speed. Behind it, Harry, the captain of the guard, had no choice but to pick up the pace.

Casting a worried glance ahead, he muttered:

"Why is he shouting like that all of a sudden…?"

---

Meanwhile.

In the depths of the Imperial Arcane Laboratory, Azrael Itharion and his three disciples were hard at work around an ancient alchemical furnace.

"Tedious or not, it must be done." said Azrael, consulting Lucian's official decree. "He wants as many glass bulbs as last time. Nothing complicated."

One hand rested on his chin, his expression thoughtful but composed.

Marc, on the other hand, was seething inside.

"Easy? Sure… for a legendary archmage like you…"

He wasn't alone in his frustration. Julie and Ruben, his two companions, wore equally strained expressions.

Azrael sighed and declared:

"I'll teach you the method. If you truly are my disciples, you should be able to do it on your own in under an hour."

"But—" Ruben tried to protest.

He wanted to remind their master that even with his status as an archmage, and despite his perfect command of elemental magic, he had failed several times before successfully crafting a single bulb.

But he bit his tongue. No point in provoking Azrael further.

Their master continued:

"It's true, I didn't succeed on my first try. But when I finally did, I uncovered the secret behind the creation of these bulbs. I'm going to pass it on to you. But be warned…"

He turned toward them, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"Anyone who proves useless in this task will be immediately dismissed."

The tension in the room spiked.

Julie, Marc, and Ruben froze. Beads of sweat trickled down their temples.

This mission was no longer just about magic—it had become a matter of professional survival.

As the disciples began preparing, Azrael was absorbed in thought, flipping the document over to read the back.

"This mixture… it's far too strange. What is he trying to do this time?"

Indeed, Lucian's message instructed him to prepare, in total secrecy, a concoction involving several rare materials. The purpose remained vague… and seemed, at first glance, pointless. Yet something felt off.

Azrael raised his hand and chanted:

"‽‽‽‽…"

A sky-blue light appeared.

It was a magical inventory—an interdimensional space accessible only to Level 9 or higher archmages. Its capacity was nearly limitless. It was from this space that Azrael had retrieved the luminous stone used in the previous experiment.

He summoned it again, examining it with curiosity.

"Haha… I hope this ends up being something as grand as… euh… electrikitty?"

The word still escaped him. He struggled to pronounce it, unfamiliar as he was with such concepts from the modern world.

____

Later that night — Selphia Voldreck's Estate.

"My sweet, sweet brother~"

Selphia lounged carelessly, clad in a light dressing gown through which her undergarments were barely concealed.

Before her, at her feet, knelt a half-naked man, a crooked smile on his lips, his hand resting familiarly on her rear.

It was Darius Voldreck.

"Yes, big sister~" he replied softly, a twisted gleam in his eyes.

"I'll be leaving soon," she announced with an amused smile.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" Darius asked, intrigued.

"I had planned to take the crown…" She paused, a cryptic smile curling her lips. "But I've come to realize that was far too modest a goal for someone like me."

"…"

Darius froze, silent. A wave of unease and anticipation rippled through him.

"The Grand Masters," she said simply.

Darius's eyes widened instantly, filled with both fear and fascination.

"The Grand Masters?" he repeated, stunned.

"Yes. They've invited me to visit their magnificent domain… so that I, too, might become one of them." She straightened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a cold pride. "You've seen the power I've gained, haven't you?"

At those words, Darius recoiled, then dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold stone floor. He was nearly drooling, overwhelmed by worship.

Selphia calmly crossed her legs, resting her cheek against her palm. She read her younger brother's thoughts as easily as one flips through a book.

With a trembling voice, Darius pleaded:

"Please, big sister… I want that power too. I want to be chosen by the Grand Masters… Help me, I beg you…"

Selphia gently caressed his head, then lifted his chin with one finger, a gesture almost motherly.

"Don't worry. It'll be possible… if you complete your final mission."

He straightened up at once, burning with anticipation:

"Anything you want! Just tell me!"

She tilted her head, laughing softly.

"Nothing too complicated, darling…"

She sealed her words with a passionate kiss, sliding her hand into her underwear with deliberate slowness. Darius responded with equal fervor, their movements merging into a choreography

of forbidden desire.

(Anz: That's where I leave you, dear readers. My poor single heart wouldn't survive another line. Sniff, sniff…)

And thus began a night of debauchery, as passionate as it was poisonous.