“I cannot give a definitive answer.”

The first research director who had spoken so arrogantly was long dead.

Since then, the emperor has continued replacing the heads of the project. And each time, they had shown results—just barely, but results nonetheless.

Had there been no progress at all, he might not have been so quick to dispose of them.

However, fear—the most powerful emotion for controlling humans—had driven each new research head to work themselves to the brink of madness, all in a desperate attempt to meet the emperor’s expectations.

Thus, rather than breaking free from their doomed trajectory, they had only accelerated their own descent, offering up their own necks to the emperor’s blade.

The emperor sneered briefly.

“At this rate, executing the research heads might be the secret to completing the Elixir of Immortality.”

Twisting his lips into a smirk, he rested his chin on his hand. His joke was far from amusing, but the chamberlain merely bowed his head deeply.

“No, this is already the third one I’ve replaced, and still, no progress. So I suppose that isn’t the answer either.”

Just as he said, three successive research directors had died without yielding results.

“A breakthrough is needed.”

The emperor believed that his patience had been more than generous.

Had he not only punished the research directors while sparing the others?

Of course, the former directors who had lost their heads would surely disagree. But the dead did not speak, after all…

“The current director has failed as well. Hm.”

The emperor tapped his fingers against his temple, mentally listing the various experiments and results related to the Elixir of Immortality.

The process had been so unspeakable, so unimaginably cruel, ruthless, and revolting, that even describing it aloud would be difficult for an ordinary person.

It was only natural, given that granting eternal life to mortals defied the laws of nature itself.

Yet, the emperor’s expression remained utterly serene. If anything, he seemed… bored.

The very man responsible for so many people begging for death rather than enduring their fates felt not a shred of guilt.

On the contrary, he believed they were making noble sacrifices for the great empire.

For he was convinced that nothing could be more sacred than his own eternal reign atop the empire.

Despite racking his brain, he found no inspiration.

There was no way he could think of something that even the countless researchers—whether by choice or by coercion—who had devoted themselves entirely to this pursuit had failed to conceive.

Ultimately, unable to come up with a solution, the emperor irritably waved his hand before suddenly asking,

“Now that I think about it, wasn’t there an alchemist who went missing?”

“Yes.”

“Tch. Another pathetic power struggle within the research group?”

Even among a collective with a singular goal, divisions naturally formed wherever people gathered.

Mages, alchemists, and other scholars had split into various factions, constantly opposing one another.

Truthfully, the emperor had no interest in their internal politics.

As long as they succeeded in creating the Elixir of Immortality, he planned to kill them all anyway.

To him, they were nothing more than the walking dead.

“No, Your Majesty. It was not internal. They were eliminated from the outside.”

“From the outside? Don’t tell me…”

The emperor tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with murderous intent and greed.

“The crown prince?”

“Yes. This conclusion was reached after retracing the events.”

“Hm. The crown prince, you say.”

The emperor’s lips twisted into a grotesque smile.

Aiger Reinhardt.

His only son, and therefore, his greatest political rival.

From the beginning, the emperor had never intended to have children.

When he ascended the throne after slaughtering all his siblings, he had vowed to remain on the imperial seat forever.

But…

“The imperial bloodline must not be severed under any circumstances!”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty!”

At the time, he could not ignore the pleas of his loyal retainers, who had supported him both politically and militarily.

In the end, he took an empress for strategic reasons, and only after securing a son did he make his declaration:

“I am a man devoted solely to the empire. One heir to continue the imperial bloodline is more than enough!”

Some officials protested, seeing marriage to the emperor as the easiest way to access power. However, his claim of being ‘a man for the empire’ sounded so noble that their opposition soon subsided.

The emperor had, indeed, devoted himself to the empire, and even the nobles who had been wary of him or had remained neutral acknowledged his sincerity.

But none of them truly understood the emperor’s ‘sincerity.’

‘I am the empire.’

Only his closest aides, the empress, and Aiger knew the truth—that his obsession had long since devolved into madness.

And because Aiger was the only one who had survived despite knowing his father’s grotesque nature, the emperor’s hatred and contempt for him were beyond words.

“He is my son, yet his life is far too long.”

‘I should have killed him when he was younger.’

But if he had, the nobles would have pressured him to remarry and produce another heir.

Perhaps he should have granted their wish, fathered multiple children, and then eliminated all but the weakest and most foolish one.

As the emperor indulged in this repulsive thought, he soon shook his head.

Before implementing any such plan, he had to first deal with the crown prince.

The emperor narrowed his eyes and gestured to the chamberlain.

“Was he someone of importance?”

“He conducted experiments on commoner children.”

“Progress?”

“None.”

“If commoners are useless, then we should use nobles.”

The emperor uttered these words as casually as if he were commenting on the quality of his lunch.

Then he asked again,

“What has he been up to lately?”

“He frequently visits the back alleys.”

“Hah. A fitting place for someone like him.”

“And his meetings with Lady Greuga have become more frequent.”

The moment the chamberlain finished speaking, the emperor’s eyebrow twitched like a living snake.

The crown prince and Greuga?

“How irritating.”

The central nobles had insisted that the crown prince needed a suitable bride. Thus, they had chosen the frail Lady Greuga, who was deemed too weak to be an heir.

Of course, if one looked deeper, Greuga had been selected because they led the neutral faction, neither siding with the emperor nor the noble faction.

And the emperor had never liked Greuga.

Unlike the loyal and competent families that had supported him, Greuga had always remained frustratingly ambiguous.

“They weren’t that close before, as I recall.”

“No, Your Majesty. But their interactions have certainly increased.”

“Hm. Perhaps he had a change of heart and has started indulging in romance?”

“It is usually Lady Greuga who seeks the meetings.”

“Well, the boy’s face is decent enough.”

The emperor sneered as he recalled Aiger’s appearance—a perfect combination of the renowned beauty of the empress and his own best features.

His exterior was impressive.

But inside, he was nothing more than a rotten weed that needed to be uprooted.

The emperor tilted his head, trying to recall Lady Greuga.

The fact that he couldn’t even remember her face meant she was utterly insignificant.

Even a worthless insect would be swatted away if it buzzed annoyingly in his presence.

The emperor’s eyes glinted with cunning.

“It’s about time Greuga was given a proper leash. That damn duke has been acting far too self-righteously. Chamberlain.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Your orders?”

“Summon Marquis Sillion. I’ve fed and raised him well. Now it’s time for him to prove his worth.”

Behind the sudden rise of the Sillion Marquisate—a growth so rapid that it baffled many—stood the emperor.

His reason for fostering Sillion was simple.

He needed a dog that would bark when ordered, bite when commanded, and be discarded after the hunt was over.

Tapping his fingers against his chin, the emperor’s lips curled into a sly smile.

“If we are to warn Greuga, it would be far more effective to target their heir rather than some powerless girl. I wonder what expression that proud duke will make when his perfect successor is left in ruins.”

The chamberlain listened carefully, ensuring not a single word was lost.

The emperor’s orders would be neatly packaged and delivered to Sillion first.

And when Sillion was summoned to an audience with the emperor, he would have to present a flawless plan to carry out his command.

Naturally, everything would appear to stem from Sillion’s unwavering loyalty. Even if the plan went awry, it would be dismissed as excessive devotion, and the emperor would merely click his tongue in mild displeasure.

Feeling slightly better at the thought of dealing with the thorn in his side, the emperor skimmed through the list handed to him by the chamberlain and pointed to a name.

“This was the one leading the experiments on commoners, correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Appoint someone who opposes him as the new director. And since those experiments have been unproductive, suggest that they start using nobles instead.”

“Yes, I will proceed discreetly.”

The chamberlain bowed deeply and was about to retreat when the emperor added,

“Oh, and take care of the commoner disappearances. Just find a convenient scapegoat.”

After dismissing the chamberlain, the emperor stroked the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and muttered,

“If commoners and nobles are useless, the only thing left is imperial blood.”