The World Is Mine For The Taking

We were walking along the dusty roads of the Empire's capital, the kind of roads that never seemed to quiet down. The sound of loud chatter, wheels grinding against sand, and hooves clopping against the uneven ground filled the air, echoing from every corner like the pulse of the city itself. The Empire still hadn't embraced modernity—even now, their roads were nothing more than sand-packed pathways, which explained why only carriages and horses moved through the streets. Not a single car in sight.

Well, horses weren't that bad. In fact, they had their advantages. They were easy enough to handle, efficient for travel, and unlike cars, they weren't restricted to smooth, straight paths. A horse could carry you up slopes, through rough and uneven terrain, places where a car would break down before even making it halfway. In a way, the Empire's stubbornness against modernity made sense here.

Inside one of those carriages, Aegis and I sat side by side. The wooden wheels creaked beneath us as the horses pulled steadily along the sandy road, sending up faint clouds of dust with each step. This particular carriage was taking us to one of the people who had specifically asked to meet me. They were the ones who sent the invitation, and because of that, infiltrating this place had been much easier than expected.

Still, Aegis looked restless. She shifted in her seat, her body stiff and her expression tense, like she was forcing herself to endure something she clearly didn't enjoy. But she had no choice. This was what she wanted, and I had told her to follow my lead. No matter how much she disliked it, she had to hold herself together.

She was the one who said she was fine pretending to be my lover. That was her decision. There was no room for her to back out now. She could have suggested something else, of course—she could've been my servant, my bodyguard, or just about anything else. But no. She picked "lover." And once she said it, I wasn't about to let her take it back. Honestly, letting her squirm in that role was far more amusing than I expected. Right now, the way her face twisted and her hands fidgeted, it was like she was crawling out of her own skin. I couldn't help but laugh inside.

"W-What are you staring at?! Do you want to get sliced?!" she snapped, her voice sharp, her glare practically screaming that she wanted to cut me down where I sat.

I leaned back casually, a smirk tugging at the edge of my lips. "No," I said smoothly. "I wasn't even looking at you. And besides, don't you think you should tone down the rough talk? If you keep threatening me like that, people might figure out we're lying about you being my wife. And then what? The whole operation goes to shit. I'm sure you wouldn't want Artemis pissed at you for ruining everything, right?"

"K-Kuh…" She clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth so hard I could almost hear it.

This was fun. Too much fun.

After what felt like a long, bumpy ride, the carriage finally slowed and came to a stop in front of a massive manor belonging to one of the Empire's officials. The horses snorted as they came to a halt, and the door of the carriage swung open, held by a servant of the household.

"Welcome to Cross's Manor, Lord Faust," a maid said, bowing deeply.

I raised a brow. Interesting. Maids here were nothing like the ones in other countries. Normally, you'd expect a Victorian-style uniform—black and white dresses, aprons, that sort of thing. But this one? She wore garments that looked closer to Arabian or Egyptian designs, with light fabrics that flowed around her frame. And as I looked around, I noticed it wasn't just her. Most people here wore similar clothing. Of course. It was a desert country. The style was probably born out of necessity.

Stepping out of the carriage, I extended a hand to Aegis. She hesitated, but she knew the role she had to play. If she failed here, even for a moment, the whole thing could collapse spectacularly. And that would be the end of us.

As we walked toward the grand house ahead, Aegis gave me a look. That sharp, knowing glance told me she'd noticed it too. The maid behind us wasn't ordinary. No. Her aura was too strong and too refined for a normal maid to have. She wasn't a simple servant—she could very well be an assassin, perhaps even under orders to kill me.

I didn't react outwardly. Instead, I let a fraction of my own aura slip free, just enough to make my presence unmistakable. A warning. A promise. If she dared make a move, she'd be dead before she even realized she'd attacked. That's why she stayed still, why she couldn't see any opening, even though my back was turned.

It was always important to let your opponent know what kind of hell they'd be stepping into. Otherwise, they'd die instantly, clueless, never even understanding that their death came from their own ignorance.

Finally, we reached the entrance of the manor.

"Welcome, Sir Faust!" boomed a rotund man waiting for us. Of course. Why did all nobles look the same these days? Big stomachs, shiny clothes, acting all high and mighty. It was almost cliché now, like someone had painted them all from the same mold.

I shoved the thought aside and plastered a wide, practiced smile across my face, one that reached all the way up to my cheeks. "Hello there, Lord Cross," I said warmly. "I've come, as promised."

"Yes, yes! Come in, come in!" he said, his words loud and theatrical. "I've prepared everything for this occasion. I wouldn't dare let the essential king of business—the man who owns the largest company in the world—stand out here in this unbearable heat!"

With that, we were led inside.

The manor was surprisingly airy, the air moving freely through the halls. Clearly, the entire place had been designed to fight against the desert's punishing climate. It was practical and natural.

"You must have traveled quite a long way. I deeply apologize for the trouble," Lord Cross said with exaggerated politeness.

"It's fine," I answered smoothly. "Visiting a foreign country from time to time isn't such a bad thing."