Chapter 160 - 160: Oh No, I've Become Emperor Roselle!

She nodded slightly. "Actually, I'd prefer to go somewhere else—but it's too far." "Wait, even if one of us is here to tell a story and the other to hear one, do you think the guards in there will believe that?" "No." With a flick of her fingers, a strange-looking hat appeared in her hand. "That's why we'll need to sneak in using Beyonder methods. Put this on." One after the other, the two of them walked straight toward the Royal Museum. The ordinary guards stationed outside couldn't see them at all. Once they stepped inside, a phantom-like chessboard unfurled from the lady's centre in all directions. In the blink of an eye, everything in Edward's vision slowed down as if cast in slow motion—everyone around them began to move sluggishly, completely unaware of the change. "We're here." Soon, they arrived in front of an exhibition styled like an office. According to the display sign, this was a recreation of Emperor Roselle's personal study—every piece of furniture and decoration inside was authentic. At that moment, the lady spread her arms, and vibrant peach blossoms began to rain down from above. Within moments, the display transformed into a blooming paradise, overflowing with lush greenery and fragrant flowers. A moment later, the flora gradually faded and disappeared. But Edward knew very well—this space was now completely cut off from the outside world. Holy crap. It really is her! Isn't this...the Peach Blossom Spring?! "Sigh—" She glanced around the room, a glimmer flashing across her eyes before she let out a soft sigh. She walked over to the sofa opposite the emperor's desk, then leaned back, curling herself up into the cushions. She pointed at Roselle's seat and said calmly, "You sit there." "..." Seriously? You're one of the Four Pirate Kings, the former Intis princess, leader of the Element Dawn, a Sequence 3 demi-angel at the brink of godhood—and you're dragging me into roleplay? Naturally, the mysterious Queen Bernadette had no idea what was running through Edward's mind at that moment. She gently closed her eyes and said, "You may begin your story." Edward squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He glanced at the creative manuscript sealed under glass on the desk and knew that the Black Emperor card was tucked inside—as the bookmark. "Can we switch places?" Bernadette remained silent. He sighed in resignation. "What story should I tell?" She opened her eyes, an odd glint flashing through her gaze. "Need me to pick? Alright—start with...Snow White." "Okay…" Edward let out a long sigh of surrender and cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, there was a girl named Snow White. Her skin was as white as snow, her lips as red as blood, and her hair black and glossy like a waterfall…" Time flowed by silently. Within the sealed space, only Edward's voice could be heard. "...And so, Snow White and the Prince lived happily ever after. The end." Bernadette, eyes still closed, murmured in a tone very unlike her usual self, "Cinderella." "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl who had a wicked stepmother and two cruel stepsisters...One day, the prince held a grand ball in the city…" "She rode in a pumpkin-turned-carriage, wearing a pair of glass slippers, off to attend the ball…" "...And later, Cinderella and the Prince lived happily ever after." Bernadette's breathing became softer and more relaxed, as if she had drifted off to sleep. She mumbled like someone lost in a dream, "Sleeping Beauty…" What else could Edward do but 'indulge' her? "This story takes place in an ancient kingdom. A noblewoman gave birth to a lovely daughter...She was a beautiful, kind-hearted, and loving princess...But an evil fairy, jealous of the girl's beauty and goodness, cursed her: On her sixteenth birthday, she would prick her finger and fall into a deep sleep. Only a kiss of true love could awaken her…" Edward tried his best to narrate these fairy tales with energy and flair, tailoring them to sound fun and vivid—like stories told to a little girl. Meanwhile, Bernadette lay curled up on the couch like a real child, slowly falling asleep with the comfort of bedtime tales. He imagined Old Roselle must have told stories to his daughter like this too. He probably claimed every fairy tale as his own invention, proudly declaring, "Daddy made that up for you." Tsk. "Wait a minute?" Edward suddenly froze, a sinking feeling rising in his chest. "Except for Snow White and the magic mirror, I don't think I've ever heard any of these fairy tales mentioned out in the world...Could it be that some of them were stories Roselle only told to his daughter? And with the Emperor 'dead'...that would mean only two people in this world still know them—his adopted daughter, Cattleya...and me." So then... Why the hell do I know them?! Oh crap! Just the thought of it made Edward go numb. He quickly tried to recall the circumstances under which he first met this lady, Bernadette Gustav. Their first encounter had been the night he went to eliminate the Zmanger Party—he'd found that stack of suspected transmigrator diaries in the group's vault. He'd barely finished the first page when Bernadette suddenly appeared, took the journal, and left him with one sentence: "May you have sweet dreams tonight." The second time was when he was chatting with Audrey in a carriage and mentioned the idiom "plugging one's ears while stealing a bell." She grew curious, and he ended up telling her the story behind it. The third time was that same afternoon at the Brave Bar, when he told the story of the idiom "pretending to play the lute in a group." The fourth time was at the restaurant, when he told the fairy tale about a cat and a mouse becoming friends. And today was the fifth time. First came One Thousand and One Nights, then Snow White, Cinderella, and others. Looking back on it now—could it be that the very first time they met, when he looked at the first page of the diary and reacted like he could read Chinese, she had already taken note of that? And the second time—wasn't it actually her who sought him out, and just so happened to overhear him mention the idiom "plugging one's ears while stealing a bell"? What's even more uncanny is that Emperor Roselle very likely mentioned that idiom to her in the past. Then, one after another, idioms and fairy tales that only Emperor Roselle could possibly have known started coming out of his mouth. And to Bernadette… A man who could read Chinese, who knew idioms and fairy tales only her father had known, and who just so happened to have no background whatsoever, as if he had appeared out of thin air— What would she think? Most crucially…she had never believed that her father was dead. Crap. Was Bernadette seriously starting to believe that he was Emperor Roselle?! In that moment, Edward felt like he was sitting on a bed of nails, with thorns in his back and a fishbone stuck in his throat. "Why did you stop?" Bernadette opened her eyes. Her blue irises seemed even deeper than before. "You suddenly look very nervous." Edward forced out a smile and gave a dry laugh. "What are you talking about? It's just…I've talked too much. My throat's a bit dry. Cough, cough." Cough, cough. He faked a few more coughs. "So, uh, what kind of story would you like to hear next?" She blinked. "Why don't you tell the kind of story you think I'd like to hear?" I think you'd love The Tadpole Looks for His Mother (Father). "Uh…How would I know what you like?" "Then tell me the story of the man who waited by a tree for a rabbit—" Suddenly, she sat up on the sofa. The blossoming peach trees and greenery reappeared around them, then vanished again in a flash. Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, the strange hat materialised once more and landed squarely on Edward's head. Boom! A dull explosion rang out from the first floor, followed by a commotion of chaotic footsteps echoing from all directions. Edward knew—it had begun. Klein had started his operation. And the target of tonight's action was that very bookmark tucked inside the "Creative Manuscript" just a few dozen centimetres away from him. But…Bernadette was right here waiting by the tree for a rabbit! No way! Edward suddenly realised—she had really been about to say that idiom just now?! Damn, how fitting. With the Sefirah Castle, Klein should still be able to…escape, right? Moments later, a semi-transparent figure descended through the ceiling, half-floating, half-dropping until he landed just before Roselle's desk, encased in glass. His face seemed covered in some kind of greasepaint, making it impossible to make out his exact appearance—but who else could it be besides Klein? Klein crept forward cautiously, believing he had already successfully drawn the museum guards away. Little did he know, there was one person in front of him…and another behind—two very real people, watching his every move. He extended both hands, one reaching for the bookmark inside the "Creative Manuscript," the other going for a second one that looked like it had been drawn by a child. Then, he began trying to wrap both in his spiritual body. But Bernadette had already quietly moved to his side, preparing to give him a huge surprise. Waaah! Waaah! Waaah! Shrill, piercing cries of an infant suddenly echoed through the exhibition hall. One by one, eerie eyeballs emerged and floated in midair, densely packed and staring down at Klein with cold, indifferent gazes. Klein's body abruptly froze, and even in his spiritual form, he felt as though he had been encased in ice. His grasp on the bookmarks halted completely. At that moment, a soft but emotionless woman's voice whispered in his ear: "Why are you only taking the bookmarks?" Frozen in place, Klein stiffly turned his head to the right—and saw, just half a meter away, a woman with an unremarkable face, dressed oddly, and wearing a strange leather hat. Was this a powerhouse from the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery? No…maybe a high Sequence powerhouse? Bernadette spoke again, her tone even colder than before, "Why are you only taking the bookmarks? How did you know to take the bookmarks?" So close! Just one step away! If he had managed to absorb the bookmarks into his spiritual body, he could've cancelled the summoning and returned above the grey fog immediately. But because of this one step, he now stood at the edge of catastrophe! Just then, something seemed to occur to Bernadette. With a flick of her hand, the hat on Edward's head disappeared—and with it, his figure became visible. Klein's pupils shrank. Edward? He was here? He had been here the whole time? Everything I just did…he saw it all? Thankfully…thankfully, I still had that paint on my face. But why was he here? And who exactly was this high-sequence woman? At that moment, Bernadette turned to Edward and asked, "Do you know what's hidden inside the bookmark?" Edward shook his head with an innocent look on his face. She didn't seem surprised. She nodded, then looked back at Klein again. "This is your last chance. Why only the bookmarks?" ——— [Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.