Prologue

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental. 

Warning—Warning—Warning 

Beware of grammatical errors and typographical errors. Editing is still moving. Read at your own risk. 

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Life's enigmas. For one, these tiny, small porcelain hands belong to a child. She has long viridian hair that reaches her knees, and her outfit resembles a noble. It was bejewelled with golden threads on the hems of her dress, creating a delicate design that curved around her neck. She did not see people use it whenever they went out on an outing. 

A cosplay, then? If she remembered correctly, she hadn't attended any cosplay event in the past few years. 

The little girl felt a stickiness on her tiny hands and realized it was smeared with blood. The throbbing headache that had been dormant for a year suddenly seemed to amplify this moment. Aiya, it tempted her to jump into this river and die. 

The pain was so intense it felt like a fiery blade slicing through her. Her thoughts traversed the unknown, vacillating between life and death. With each coughing fit, she felt her head grow lighter as she coughs more blood. Her brows furrowed in a knot, sweating as her already snowy face became ashen. 

After a while, the small child paused. Her coughing fit gradually receded. She stared dazedly at her dress and the ground beneath her, frowning while covering her mouth with her other hand, trying to soothe herself. 

"Th-the these forceful coughing fits should be enough." 

But alas, she must have overdone it as she vomited again; this time, it was paired with her nose bleeding. Her body trembled as she stumbled down, looking at her reflection on the river, trying to wipe the blood that dripped from both her nose and lips. 

"Dear, oh dear." 

So, this isn't truly 'her', huh? The little girl's knees shook as she forced her gaze away and dragged her limp body beneath the towering canopies of trees. 

"I-I'm on a deathbed, not just weak i-in constitution." The author should have described it in hyperbole. 

Underneath the Hian Tree, the little girl sat heaving and gasping for air. 

Alright, let's remain calm. We've read novels tagged in this kind of genre already. 

Calm down. 

The little girl tried to control her heavy breaths as she closed her eyes, trying hard to concentrate. One thing was for sure: there were no memories inside this body. 

"A novel." 

This is the other issue, she realized after looking at her reflection in the river — especially these lifeless viridian eyes of a child she knew. Well, fictionally speaking, she knew this 'child.' 

At least, she remembered she had read of this before, although not much, but it's better since she knows her ending. 

Her name is Ett. To make it complete, her whole name is Etterellia Vonworgh Carala Beirre Lei Adiand, the Empress Dowager of the Adiand Empire. The mother of the current Emperor, Guren Vonworgh Carala Beirre Lei Adiand. 

What a long name plastered together. 

"Hah." 

Ett, the child she is now, is bound to suffer and die by her son. Haha. Amazing. 

This woman, uh, girl, had a brain filled with schemes but was physically weak. 

The master of strategy covered behind countless thick canopies of darkness overlooking the citadel and had caused the Seven Stars Countries, known to be undisputed, to fall into chaos because of her. 

If there is something that they have a striking commonality with, it is their treatment of children. They need to improve at taking care of kids. Both were also the only children in their families. It's as if she kept her features, like the novel character Ett. 

Besides her signature imperial hair and eyes with the same colour reflected on the water, her face was still the same as when she was a young child on Earth. However, it's much more stunning, like an in-game character enhanced to the peak. 

After calming down, Ett didn't move forward but stayed. 

"There's no possibility of returning when you just came to this foreign place. Typical cliche." 

Ett closed her eyes and lay on the ground. She felt so much pain and fatigue as her tofu body was ready to be pinched into nothing. Just like that, she rested, not caring what would happen to her. Her body can't move; she's too exhausted. 

"When will he come?" 

Soon enough, as if they had heard her complaint, she could have seen someone approaching her. A hirsute man with a sagacious atmosphere surrounding him, dressed in a butler's uniform, only to stop and bow down to her. 

"Greetings to Her Grace, the Matron, the Empire's Majestic Eclipse." 

"Butler." It was not the villain. 

That signature Gandalf look. It's just that hair was tied in the back, as was his beard. A butler with a former background becoming a Commander in the previous Emperor's time. And someone who sacrificed himself for the plot. 

"My Lady." 

A low and percipient voice that seems to know she's awake and dares to approach her in her resting place. 

Butler Xiwen, while maintaining his bow, opened his mouth, saying, "The Emperor understands your pain; hence, he wishes for his mother to keep herself alive and healthy the most to proceed." 

What would the novel Ett say? 

I don't know! Either shut up or…or act… ah whatever. 

"A moment." 

Ett uttered and closed her eyes. 

It's like this: The escaping was the story's beginning; however, it was not the entrada of the FL and the beginning of the lovey-dovey ML and his FL. It's just a random flashback to tell the readers how horrible the Imperial Family do their deed. 

Ett despaired, seeing how she turned back to being a child and tried to cross the border across the river. She was humiliated that she was just like her son, even less, a powerless, small girl. The heavy blow of her change had crumbled her mental fortress. 

"Ugh." 

Let's not think more about it; her head is aching really bad. Ett slowly stood leaning on the tree, gradually trying to maintain her balance. 

"May I be of any aid to you, Your Grace?" 

She shook her head. It's alright not to be carried. I can manage. 

"Lead." 

"Understood." 

Ett was secretly thankful that Butler Xiwen slowed down his pace for her. 

When Ett mysteriously becomes a little girl, she is on the verge of madness. 

If not for the mighty waves of emotion that trigger her illness, coughing blood until she faints and 'she' enters, then the Ett in the novel would surely be one step away from making the beginning of the arc come true. 

Her son would rescue her after discovering the six months of an oddity on the other side, and how these barbarians could be victorious in planning when, before, they were just lowly people with no strategist. 

After her son, the Emperor, made sure whoever saw her died, the Ett in the novel successfully returned, and she never escaped again. However, the heart even grew worse. 

Ett searched for ways to turn herself back from her previous mature appearance, staining her aisle with blood. It was a fiction that even if she had ninety-nine per cent of dying with a sliver of life left, Ett still lived. 

"We are near the entrance, Your Grace." 

Ett lifted her head, seeing the walls too tall for her to see the end, which was a distance away. 

The palace entrance gave her an unprecedented feeling of Elysium. From the outside, but perhaps a dystopian Alyssum for those who belong in the palace, or so she thought. 

An opposite of the brilliance of any empire she had ever read and watched. Indeed, the Imperial Castle is majestic, with towers and watchmen that keep intruders away. 

As they entered the alternate gate known by a few people, Ett spotted a viridian hair. The little Emperor was talking to what seemed to be his advisor with a severe expression unbefitting an eleven-year-old child. 

If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed Guren was a regressor, a transmigrator, and not a once-in-a-millennium genius. 

"It seems His Majesty is busy as of the moment." 

"Mm." 

Indeed, he is. 

Guren, that was his name. Ett's son's name. 

When he was three, he had the most renowned and skilled teacher, his passing grandfather, who only had one daughter—her. 

The former Emperor said he would die happy if he found a successful ruler. For the subsequent years, Guren was the most distinguished person in the empire, and the other countries heard of his talent and ingenuity. 

Come to think of it, Ett was never interested in handling the throne; she never wanted it. She's a schemer through and through but never a ruler in skin and bone. Guren only returned two years ago when the previous Emperor, his grandfather, died and took the throne. 

It was a year ago when Ett became a child. 

As if sensing Ett's stare, her son Guren stared back at her, the final boss. She felt complicated and appreciative of seeing the villain in person. He was not cute but got his own rizz. 

"Good guy." 

Look at that. 

Guren, with viridian hair, was just like the verdant vines and possessed eyes that mirrored the tranquil depths of an unmoving lake devoid of any gleam that might illuminate a typical gaze from an average child. 

His snow-white complexion was akin to freshly fallen snow upon the moonlit fields, and with each stride that he took, he walked with the regal grace of a monarch; it gave a commanding reverence and authority as though the very essence of imperial majesty had taken in his noble bearing bone deep. 

Indeed, there was no love in his eyes, just plain indifference. Something Adiand rulers are known for. 

Their staring contest was cut off as he turned to the man he was conversing with. 

And cut, proceed to the next scene.

"Shall we head to your chamber, Your Grace?" 

Butler Xiwen asked. 

"Alright." 

Now, she met the villain of the story. 

Ett examined her tiny hands. She could accept that she turned into a little girl like Detective Conan; Ett also knows well that this boy could amaze Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein with his IQ, which doesn't need to be measured. 

However, as a mother, no, this girl looked like Lolita, like a five-year-old, even if her body was that of an approximately nine-year-old child. It's exceptionally vexing! Homie looks like a 13-year-old, even if he's genuinely eleven years old, for goodness' sake. 

We must pretend to be with brains, even if it's fried and crisp. Let's cheat and stick to it as much as possible. Change? Hehe. For what? Fate? My desire is a little small. Death, sure. I was supposed to sleep for eternity anyway. 

Huh, yeah…wait. No. Death? What was I doing on Earth back then? Brain fog is working its way again. 

Tch.