My name is Rex.
Yeah, I know — another NTR story. Part 5 at this point, if we're counting. I'm sure you're all tired of the same shit. Innocent wives corrupted, clueless husbands, powerful men taking what they want. The usual degeneracy.
Well, I won't mess with the narratives. I promise.
[»…«]
Oh, you're keeping quiet now? Fine. Let me paint you a picture of the shitshow I'm currently neck-deep in.
See, I died. Car accident, I think? The details are fuzzy. One moment I'm scrolling through web novels on my phone, the next I'm waking up in this fantasy political nightmare with memories that aren't mine and a position I definitely didn't earn.
Lord Rex Valdren. Shadow Advisor to the Emperor. The guy everyone fears but nobody respects.
You get it now.
And guess what's happening right now, in the palace above my head?
The Emperor is dying.
Actually, let me be more specific — the Emperor is about to die. Could be tonight. Could be next week. The royal physicians give him days at most. Poison, they suspect, though they'll never say it aloud. Can't accuse someone of regicide without proof, after all.
[»…«]
You know he's going to die anyway. You all just want me to decide when he dies.
Fine. I'll play along.
~~~
The council chamber reeked of expensive incense and cheaper desperation.
Twelve men sat around the obsidian table, each representing a different faction of power within the Valdrossian Empire. Military. Commerce. Religion. The noble houses. All of them circling like vultures, waiting for the Emperor's last breath so they could tear the carcass apart.
And at the head of the table, in the Emperor's empty chair, sat General Malus.
Now, Malus was exactly what you'd expect from a fantasy general who's fucking the Queen. Tall, built like he was carved from marble, well fuck all that, he is the kind of man who looked like he'd stepped out of a romance novel cover, except this one had actual blood on his hands.
He was also my only real enemy here.
Everyone else? Manageable. Malleable. Malus? He was smart enough to be dangerous and ambitious enough to act on it.
"Lord Rex." His voice cut through the murmured conversations. "You've been unusually quiet. Anything to contribute to this matter?"
All eyes turned to me.
I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled, giving them my best "mysterious advisor" look. In my past life, I'd have laughed at how cliché this all was. Now? I was living the fucking cliché.
"The Young Prince is the favorite," I said slowly, as if considering each word. "By bloodline and by the Emperor's own declarations. The succession should be clear."
"Should be," Malus agreed, his smile not reaching his eyes. "But Prince Aldric is... inexperienced. Soft. Perhaps the empire needs a stronger hand. The Elder Prince has military training, connections with the border lords—"
"And you in his pocket," I interrupted smoothly.
The room went silent.
Malus's smile widened. Dangerous. "I serve the empire, Lord Rex. As do we all."
"Of course." I waved a hand dismissively. "Which is why I propose a solution that satisfies everyone. A royal hunt."
"A hunt?" Lord Casimir, the fat merchant lord, frowned. "Now? With the Emperor on his deathbed?"
"Especially now." I stood, pacing around the table. This was theater, and I'd always been good at theater. "Let both princes prove themselves before the empire. Let them demonstrate their strength, their cunning, their worthiness to rule. A traditional hunt in the Blackwood Forest. One week from today."
I could see the gears turning in their heads. The ones backing the Elder Prince saw an opportunity to prove his martial superiority. The ones backing the Young Prince saw... well, they probably saw their boy getting eaten by a bear, but they couldn't object without looking like they doubted him.
Malus studied me. He knew I was planning something. Good. Let him waste energy trying to figure out what.
"An interesting proposal," he said finally. "But dangerous. If something were to happen to either prince—"
"Then the gods have spoken," I finished. "Surely you're not suggesting we coddle our future Emperor? What kind of ruler can't handle a simple hunt?"
Checkmate.
"Very well." Malus inclined his head. "General Malus, you'll prepare both princes. One week. We reconvene after the hunt to formalize the succession."
As the council dispersed, Malus caught my eye across the room. The look he gave me promised future violence.
I smiled back.
[»…«]
Yeah, I'm playing with fire. But here's the thing about being isekai'd into a political drama—you've read this story before. You know how it goes. Malus thinks he's the clever manipulator, the secret power behind the throne.
He has no idea I'm ten steps ahead.
Or at least, I hoped I was ten steps ahead. That's the problem with real life versus fiction—no convenient author to make sure the protagonist wins.
~~~
"Lord Rex, please. I need your help."
The Young Prince—Prince Aldric—had lingered after the council, his golden hair catching the candlelight. He looked every inch the fairy tale prince: handsome, noble, utterly out of his depth.
Perfect puppet material.
"Young Prince." I turned to face him. "What is it?"
"I..." He glanced at the door, ensuring we were alone. "I need your support. I don't want my brother to be king. Please."
Desperation. I could smell it on him.
"Why should I help you?" I kept my voice neutral. "Your brother has the military behind him. Malus. The border lords. What do you have?"
"I have—I have legitimacy. The Emperor's favor. The people love me—"
"The people are irrelevant." I moved closer, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Love doesn't win wars. Power does. So I'll ask again: what do you have to *offer* me?"
He swallowed hard. "Anything. I'll give you whatever you want."
Anything.
The most dangerous word in any language.
I circled him slowly, like a shark scenting blood. "Will you give me control of the military forces?"
His face went pale. "I... that's..."
"Everything," I continued, my voice dropping lower. "Will you give me everything? Let me be your shadow, your power, the hand that moves while you sit on the throne?"
Understanding dawned in his eyes. Not stupid, then. Just weak.
"You want to be Emperor in all but name," he whispered.
"I want to make sure you *become* Emperor." I stopped in front of him. "Let me tell you something, Prince Aldric. If your brother wins this succession, you're dead. Malus won't hesitate to eliminate you. Your wife, your children, everyone you love—gone. But if you give me the power I need, I'll make sure you sit that throne. You'll have the crown, the title, the glory. All I ask is that you trust me with the reality of ruling."
He stared at me for a long moment, conflict warring across his face.
"I'll... I'll think about it," he finally said.
I nodded, unsurprised. "You have three days. After that, I'll make other arrangements."
As he left, I allowed myself a small smile.
[»…«]
He won't agree. Not fully. He'll try to negotiate, to keep some power for himself. They always do.
It doesn't matter.
Dead men don't negotiate.