When the Female Lead Went Off-Script, the Main Male Lead Became the Tyrant's Empress

Upon hearing the woman’s name, Arden went limp with anticlimax and sank back into the sofa cushions.

“Of course.”

Stelly Troanne was the owner of a salon.

Operating salons was fashionable among the noblewomen of the Empire.

They were places of cultural exchange where people shared their knowledge of literature and art and freely presented their ideas. Nobles, priests, and even artists participated in them.

Among them, Countess Troanne’s salon was the most famous and popular.

Visiting salons was also one of the most basic methods of forming connections.

“That bastard doesn’t like women.”

It seemed Clary had mistaken Haster’s visits to the Countess’s salon for secret trysts.

Girls her age were particularly prone to dreaming of romance.

“Especially women much older than him.”

Clary stared at Arden in disbelief.

What is he talking about?

Those two used to have that kind of relationship in the original story.

This was what caused the distance between the female lead and main male lead to grow as vast as the distance between life and death, and what began their rondo of ruin.

And what right did a man who went thrust-thrust, pound-pound, ahh-ahh every night with a female lead nine years younger than him have to care about an age difference?

What do you know?

How could someone who claimed to be his cousin be so indifferent?

He had already become a different person even before the settings changed, and now the female lead was gone. The two of them could get back together, you idiot!

While Clary, who knew the original story, grumbled inwardly about this second male lead’s narrow-minded thinking, and Arden contemplated how to punish his incompetent investigator, a knock sounded.

The guest who had come to see Clary was Haster.

In his hands was a gift box longer than the others.

Clary immediately tossed aside the gift box she had been about to open, hurried over to her godfather, and accepted his present.

Without realizing it, Arden focused on Clary’s hands as she unwrapped it.

Haster had never given a gift to a woman, whether she was his niece or merely an acquaintance.

What kind of present had a man like that chosen?

At last, Clary opened the lid and made a peculiar expression.

“What is it? What did you get?”

Just as Arden, who couldn’t see the contents from where he sat, was about to stand, Clary took out the gift.

It was silver, long, and sturdy…….

“A sword?”

What Haster had given Clary was a longsword.

The blade had been sharpened until it looked capable of cutting through anything with the slightest touch.

Laurel leaves were engraved upon the guard, and the chappe was decorated with a sapphire resembling Clary’s eyes.

It was refined and splendid, but it wasn’t an ornamental blade. It was a real weapon.

“Happy birthday, Clary.”

“…….”

Arden felt faint.

Is he insane?

Why is he lifting the corner of his mouth like he’s so proud of himself?

What kind of lunatic gives a weapon to a child?

Look at her.

She’s screaming ‘Waaaaaah!’ right now!

“Uncle Haster, you’re the best! Thank you! I’ve really wanted a sword.”

“I knew you would like it.”

Watching his cousin prattle on about how he had considered a mace but decided a bladed weapon would be more efficient, while his niece bounced up and down with joy, Arden felt as though he had become an idiot.

He had come here to tease someone, yet he felt as though he were the one being mocked.

Am I the only normal person here?

Haster, answer me.

Clary moved a considerable distance away and gripped the sword in both hands, swinging it through the air. Haster watched her with his arms crossed, nodding his head.

‘As expected, that child has talent.’

He had thought the same when she had sprinted all the way to the main road despite her wounded body, and when she had swung the fireplace poker at Arthur Lurie.

Clary seemed to possess great stamina, agility, and exceptional physical ability.

As Haster considered teaching her swordsmanship in earnest, Arden approached him hesitantly, which was unlike him.

“Ahem, you know.”

“What?”

“About earlier at the Great Temple.”

At Arden’s words, Haster’s expression became faintly displeased.

“I wasn’t looking at you like that.”

“…….”

Arden wanted to throw himself out the window.

It had sounded perfectly normal inside his head, but once the words left his mouth, they became unbearably strange and awkward.

It sounded as though he really had looked at Haster that way and was now making pathetic excuses.

He had thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep because of the injustice if he didn’t clear up the misunderstanding, but it might have been better to keep quiet and lose sleep instead.