Pregnancy Is Too Much For The Villain-Chapter 165
Meanwhile, in the Emperor’s office.
“What on earth am I supposed to do!?”
The Emperor paced anxiously in front of a few nobles who had long claimed to be on his side. Although it was during official working hours and he was dressed in a perfectly tailored uniform, the crooked mustache, bloodshot eyes, and sallow complexion clearly indicated that he was far from composed.
A crumpled newspaper in the Emperor’s hand revealed a glimpse of the headline through the creased paper.
**"Who really belongs in prison?"**
The article openly pointed out that while one of the gentlemen involved in the honor duel was merely placed under house arrest due to his injuries, the other was locked away in prison. The press was making no effort to hide their criticism. It was clear how the already furious public, enraged by the Third Prince’s involvement in the scandalous new drug, was reacting to this development.
For the past couple of months, Eldon had been in upheaval, with the side effects of the new drug, the collapse of businesses, investors’ outcry, and workers’ riots. And now, the Emperor’s only alpha son had once again added fuel to the fire.
Other newspapers and weekly publications scattered on the table displayed bold headlines.
**"Is this the fate of a war hero—this is the reward for fighting for the country?"**
**"Imprisoned for the crime of defeating a criminal."**
**"A man who killed hundreds versus a man who injured one."**
As brazen as these headlines were, they were among the more sophisticated ones.
**"Noble blood above the law? Betting on the next Emperor."**
**"Approaching the heir appointment ceremony—where should we place our bets?"**
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Yellow journalism was running rampant, even turning the Emperor's hesitance to defend his son into fodder for gambling speculations. After all, in the empire, only the Emperor and his successor were above the law. The tabloids took advantage of this fact, applying it to the still-uncertain succession and encouraging wild betting among the masses.
The Emperor’s vassals were at a loss. While they knew he cared for the Third Prince, was it worth enduring such widespread criticism and public discontent? Not long ago, the Emperor had seemed rational in weighing the merits of the First Princess and the Third Prince, but now he appeared different. Seeing the servants nervously exchanging glances without speaking up, the Emperor’s frustration flared once more.
“Speak up, any of you! Haven’t you always claimed to be my loyal allies?!”
He rubbed the sweat from his temples with a handkerchief, his voice laced with irritation.
“…The criticism against the royal family is overwhelming,” one finally spoke.
“It might be wise to impose a punishment on the Third Prince, equal to what has been inflicted upon the Marquis of Valkeres…” another suggested cautiously.
“That’s out of the question!” the Emperor snapped.
“…Excuse me?”
The Emperor’s defense of his son seemed unusually strong, leaving his vassals confused.
“The royal family’s honor would be dragged through the mud. How could Denox’s name tarnish that of Leopold’s without facing consequences?!”
Was this odd favoritism born from the Emperor’s longstanding jealousy of the Denox Grand Duchy? The nobles exchanged nervous glances again, unsure of what to say. One, bolder than the others, spoke up once more.
“But, Your Majesty, look at this.”
He held up the morning edition of the *Daily Eldon*, which had just been published.
**"The Marquis of Valkeres’ spouse, the 'Good Valentin,' falls victim to savagery."**
The awkwardly grandiose phrase was clearly borrowed from the name of the charity hospital the Marquis had established in honor of his spouse. But anyone familiar with Valentin Denox, the spouse of the Marquis, would agree that such a title was fitting. The *Daily Eldon* featured a striking image on its front page.
It was a photograph of Valentin, newly landed at the port. Or, to be more precise, it was a photo of Valentin looking like a ragged vagrant. Though the picture was in black and white, his face was clear enough to recognize without a doubt. There was no mistaking it—this was Valentin himself.
The article described how this noble figure had barely survived after being attacked and robbed by merciless bandits during a pilgrimage. His bruised and exhausted face, and his tattered, filthy clothes, lent credibility to the article’s claims.
**"Who could have done this to him?"**
The article strongly hinted at the answer without outright stating it.
**"The 'Good Valentin,' known for his benevolence, embarked on a pilgrimage, traveling with a humble entourage, retracing the path of saints and apostles. Who could possibly have attacked and robbed such a virtuous man?"**
The final lines of the article were particularly suggestive:
**"What force still threatens the Marquis of Valkeres and his spouse? The author can think of only one possibility, and it is truly regrettable."**
Anyone aware of the current political climate or the mood of society would know exactly which faction was being accused of targeting Valentin.
“Because of this article, discussion panels are being held at all the gentlemen’s clubs and intellectual salons,” the noble added.
“That’s right. The prestigious schools of Eldon are in an uproar. Several universities have already held public lectures discussing this matter!” another chimed in.
“It seems a citizens’ movement could soon emerge, driven by those already angry at the royal family,” a third vassal said nervously.
“The people’s anger must be appeased…” one advised cautiously.
“No! I will not sacrifice my son! The majesty of the royal family is at stake here!” the Emperor shouted, flinging his now sweat-drenched handkerchief aside. His vassals bowed their heads, taking note of his pale, strained face and the white film around his mouth.
**Did His Majesty always care for his son this much?**
**This seems out of character…** they whispered among themselves, unnoticed by the Emperor, who was too absorbed in his own thoughts.
“Find another solution! If we don’t act soon, the people will rise up!”
Since the beginning of his reign, the Emperor had been overly sensitive to the opinions of the people and the parliament. His claim to the throne had been shaky at best, and having ascended only because his elder brother, the Crown Prince, had died suddenly, he had always felt the need to tread carefully. His lack of alpha dominance made him insecure, especially in the face of senators who looked down on him. The only way he could counter their disdain was by maintaining public support.
As a result, the Emperor had governed with lenient policies, earning a reputation as a kind, if not particularly strong, ruler among the citizens. While the nobles sneered at this portrayal, the empire’s people, who viewed the royal family from a distance, considered him a stabilizing force in preserving tradition. His conservative approach appealed especially to the older, more traditional citizens.
“My head is killing me… Bring me some headache medicine!” the Emperor ordered.
A quick-witted young servant hurriedly fetched the medicine on a tray. The Emperor, barely able to endure the pain, snatched up the vial but asked sharply.
“…This is from New Pophin, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It’s said to be the most effective.”
The servant, known for always pleasing the Emperor, bowed his head deeply.
“And it doesn’t contain any of the controversial ingredients?”
“Of course not. No matter how expensive the components, nothing questionable would be included in the tincture prepared for Your Majesty. The royal physicians ensured it was made with only the finest, safest ingredients.”
“As it should be.”
The Emperor nodded, swallowing the medicine, and his expression quickly relaxed as the pain subsided.
Seeing this, one of the nobles, judging it to be the right moment, cautiously spoke up again.
“Then how about we hand the Marquis over to the police?”
The Emperor halted mid-step, turning to face him.
“The police?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Without any trial, it seems excessive to keep the Marquis locked in the royal dungeons. To calm the people’s anger, it may be necessary to present him as just another criminal awaiting a fair trial…”
“That’s a splendid idea! Before a proper trial is held, it would be better to make him appear as a normally indicted criminal. That seems fair!”
At last, the Emperor’s face, previously twisted with irritation, smoothed out. He immediately ordered his secretary to carry out the discussed plan. The secretary rushed from the office to execute the Emperor’s commands.
For a moment, the atmosphere in the room seemed to settle into an uneasy peace.
But it was as though fate mocked the Emperor's momentary relief.
For the citizens, outraged, had already begun to rise.
It was because Reynard’s confidants had finally released all the evidence linking the Third Prince to his corrupt business dealings. This time, they didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that the evidence had come from the Marquis’s side. It became clear to everyone that the honor duel had been nothing but a front for the prince’s revenge.
Every university in Eldon united, collectively boycotting classes and denouncing the royal family. New-generation nobles like the gentry class halted all business production. The shops that kept the capital alive closed their doors, and transportation companies ground their wheels to a halt.
Under the leadership of young intellectuals, a nonviolent civil protest began. The press continued to publish critical articles about the royal family, and at the top of each editorial page was the same symbol—a square flag depicting a dove.
It was the same red symbol that had been drawn on the banner in Valentin’s painting, held by the goddess.
