The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

Celibacy, celibacy! she chanted internally like it was a holy mantra that might save her from herself. But was this even about celibacy? No. It was about commitment. Sure, any other emperor could juggle wives and concubines like political chess pieces without anyone batting an eye.

But Argider? Oh no, she had to go and be a woman now. It complicated things. Could concubines even count if you weren't a man? Wait, why was she even thinking about wives? She barely knew Fialova!

In an attempt to steer her spiraling thoughts back onto a safer path, Argider blurted out, "W-Where are the others?"

"Outside," Fialova replied coolly, her demeanor calm and collected—a sharp contrast to Argider's frazzled state. Then, without missing a beat, the soldier dropped a bombshell. "From now on, I'll swear myself entirely to you, Your Majesty. You've given me such a blessing, so please, let me be by your side forever."

Argider flinched so hard that she felt like she nearly fell off. What?! That sounded uncomfortably close to a proposal! Her brain scrambled like a panicked cat on a slippery floor. She wanted to say something—anything—to defuse this, but instead, all she could think about was how badly she wanted to... No. No, no, no! Be a proper Emperor!

"Hahaha," she laughed, the sound forced and as awkward as her posture. "That's... sweet of you."

Fialova tilted her head, her bright eyes filled with concern. "Seeing all that bloodshed must've traumatized you, Your Majesty. Let me comfort you."

Comfort?! Alarm bells rang in Argider's mind like a chaotic symphony. What kind of "comfort" was Fialova offering here? Because Argider's imagination had a talent for sprinting directly to the wrong conclusion.

If she were still a man, this whole situation would've already spiraled into something... less appropriate. Besides, she really did want comfort and craved it.

"C-Comfort?" Argider croaked, voice betraying her. "What do you mean by comfort?"

As if answering the question with actions rather than words, Fialova moved behind her and placed strong yet surprisingly gentle hands on Argider's shoulders.

Oh. That kind of comfort. Not scandalous at all. Just a massage.

Argider felt a mix of relief and mortification as Fialova worked magic on her tense muscles, her hands gliding with a precision that should've been reserved for battle strategies. Argider sighed deeply, all her tension melting away as she slumped forward like a poorly constructed marionette.

"By the gods..." she muttered under her breath. "You're good at this."

"My mother used to do this for me when I was upset," Fialova explained with the earnestness of someone who had no idea her words were making Argider feel increasingly guilty.

Argider winced internally. And here I was having indecent thoughts. She's just so pure! And somehow oblivious. Almost... adorable.

"Are you single?" The words slipped out of Argider's mouth before her brain could stop them.

What the hell?! she thought, horror dawning on her. Did I just ask that out loud?

Fialova blinked, startled. "I've never been in any sort of romance. My family is a strict military household. Even the women are trained soldiers. There was no time for such things."

"Ah, that explains it," Argider said, trying desperately to play it cool. "You just seem, well... oblivious."

"Oblivious to what?" Fialova asked, her head tilting again like a curious puppy.

"To, uh, anything romantic," Argider clarified, feeling the edges of her composure fray.

Fialova's face turned a spectacular shade of crimson, her hands flying to cover her cheeks. "R-Romantic?! Does someone like me?"

Argider groaned inwardly. How was it possible for someone to be both a lethal warrior and this embarrassingly innocent? One moment, Fialova was a picture of deadly efficiency, and the next, she was stumbling over the mere mention of romance. It was enough to make Argider question her life choices.

And her oaths.

Celibacy, her mind whispered desperately. Celibacy! But... was one slip really so bad?

Argider's lips curled into a smirk as a mischievous idea formed in her mind. Was it dignified? Absolutely not. Was it exactly what her fraying nerves needed? Oh, absolutely.

"Hey," she said casually, leaning back on her elbows with a relaxed air that betrayed the storm brewing beneath. "Can you massage my legs, thighs, and feet?"

Fialova blinked, a hint of confusion flashing in her bright eyes. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

She dropped to her knees without a moment's hesitation, her calloused hands beginning to work on Argider's feet. The sensation was surprisingly soothing, her skilled fingers kneading out knots Argider hadn't realized were there.

Argider let out a quiet sigh of contentment, watching Fialova's focused expression as she moved from her toes to her ankles.

But when Fialova's hands reached her knees and halted, Argider arched a brow. "Go higher."

Fialova froze. "H-Higher?" Her cheeks flushed pink, and she hesitated before letting her fingers drift tentatively to the hem of Argider's dress.

"Yes," Argider said firmly, her voice calm but laced with a quiet authority. "Higher."

With a visible gulp, Fialova obeyed, her hands sliding cautiously up Argider's calves, then her thighs. Her fingers hesitated just below mid-thigh, trembling slightly.

The soldier's blush deepened, a stark contrast to her otherwise cool composure. Argider bit back a grin, reveling in the rare sight of the formidable warrior unraveling.

As Fialova worked, her thoughts betrayed her. The emperor—now a woman—was undeniably stunning. There was a delicate quality to Argider, a femininity that made her seem untouchable, like a porcelain doll or a flower blooming in a forbidden garden.

Fialova's rough, sword-worn hands felt almost unworthy of touching such beauty. And yet, here she was, her fingers gliding along impossibly smooth skin that bore none of the scars of war she herself carried.

"What are you hesitating for?" Argider asked, her tone casual but with a hint of teasing. Her gaze, however, was sharp, and it pinned Fialova in place. If she were still a man, Argider mused, this would've been a much different situation—and possibly one requiring a lot less patience.

"I—yes, Your Majesty." Fialova's hands slid a fraction higher, the action accompanied by an audible gasp. Her fingers brushed the outer edges of Argider's thighs, and she could feel her own pulse quickening as though she were walking into enemy territory unarmed.

Then Fialova made the mistake of glancing up. Argider's expression was unreadable, her eyes half-lidded but focused intently on her. There was something in that gaze—a mixture of curiosity and intent—that made Fialova's breath hitch. And suddenly, realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Fialova stammered, her voice wavering. "Did you ask me that question earlier because... because you're trying to seduce me?" The moment the words left her mouth, she panicked. What have I done?! I'm going to be executed for this!

Argider tilted her head, her smirk widening into something both playful and predatory. "What if I am?" she asked, her voice low and dangerously smooth. Before Fialova could respond, Argider's hand shot out and captured one of Fialova's. The sudden contact sent a jolt through the soldier, leaving her wide-eyed and speechless.

"I..." Fialova stuttered, her usual confidence crumbling like a poorly made barricade.

Please say yes, Argider thought, her heart pounding in anticipation. Logic and oaths be damned—she didn't care about the consequences right now. The need for closeness, for comfort, for something to break through the layers of duty and repression was overwhelming. It was a terrible idea. Reckless. Maybe even scandalous.

But as Argider leaned forward, her face inches from Fialova's, she couldn't bring herself to care.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om