Leave the Villainous Second Male Lead Alone - Chapter 8.17

Despite the sweetness of his smile, his tone was anything but. The adjutant, having done nothing wrong, found himself sweating profusely.

The miners arrived at Callisto’s camp a few days later.

They immediately began digging tunnels under the cover of darkness, and the grueling work stretched over a week.

During this time, Harrington’s forces struggled to repair the damaged walls but were met with difficulty due to the extent of the destruction. After all, Callisto had used his cutting-edge cannons to batter the symbol of imperial power mercilessly.

The miners, however, finished their task. Following their lead, Callisto and a group of soldiers descended into the tunnels. The adjutant, astonished by how well-executed the work was despite the time constraints, followed closely behind.

At the tunnel’s end, just a few steps from the innermost wall, Callisto grinned.

“Place the explosives. We’ll bring the entire wall down at once.”

An hour later, the explosives detonated.

The earth-shattering explosions reverberated across the battlefield. The outer wall, already on the brink of collapse, crumbled entirely. The second wall followed, and even sections of the inner wall began to give way.

“Mother.”

Callisto tilted his head slightly and smiled softly. His tone was polite and gentle, but his demeanor clearly conveyed the attitude of one addressing a subordinate. With exaggerated gestures, he spread his arms wide.

“The Empire’s successor greets the remnants of Ferron’s past glory, Your Majesty… or should I say, Your Imperial Majesty.”

A haughty and cold expression briefly flickered across Jeanne’s face before wavering. Her inscrutable gaze lingered on Callisto as she replied icily.

“You’ve finally completed your revenge.”

Feigning seriousness, Callisto nodded in acknowledgment.

“Thanks to Your Majesty.”

“I should have torn you apart limb by limb back then.”

“Perhaps so. But when exactly are you referring to?”

Callisto stepped closer to the throne, his muddy boots leaving long streaks across the floor.

“When I was born somewhere within this palace? When I fled the Winyates estate to join the navy? Or perhaps…”

Tilting his head, he asked again.

“When Etienne drank poison in my place?”

A strange gleam flickered in his golden eyes. His crimson lips curled into a crescent, and a sharp breath escaped him before he burst into laughter.

“But alas, Your Majesty failed to tear me apart, and here I stand. So now, if you would kindly step down from that seat.”

Jeanne’s gaze hardened as she watched him. Rising from the throne, she pointed at him with her slender, pale finger and raised her voice.

“Do you truly think this seat belongs to you? There has never been a butcher’s bastard on the throne of Ferron!”

“A butcher’s bastard, you say… That’s news to me.”

Callisto ran a gloved hand along his jaw thoughtfully. Letting out a contemplative hum, he nodded and spoke.

“That makes sense, though. After all, I’m quite good with a sword. Bloodlines don’t lie, it seems.”

“The son of a lowly commoner dares to prattle on.”

“Well, as long as my mouth moves, I might as well use it to its fullest extent.”

“Fine, you’ve won. Take everything. But…”

Jeanne glared at him, her blue eyes sharp and cutting. Though Callisto had played his cards to perfection, winning the war and claiming the throne, Jeanne knew the road ahead would be anything but glorious.

The new emperor, having chosen a path far removed from the one his unworthy mother had dreamed of for him, would now face countless battles with those who sought to challenge his rule. His reign would be one of endless solitude. Such was the nature of the throne.

“Someday, this seat will devour you.”

It had consumed the previous emperor, devoured Roengrin, and even swallowed Jeanne herself.

But Callisto remained unfazed. Smiling as if he’d heard nothing, he took another step closer.

Now, barely an arm’s length separated them.

The red uniform hugged his lithe figure, the sword belt secured around his waist. With each step closer to Jeanne, the metallic sound of his sword dragging against the sheath echoed ominously.

“I never wanted the throne. So there’s no chance of it devouring me.”

His voice was low and gravelly, like steel scraping against stone.

As Jeanne, pale-faced, bit her lower lip, Callisto unsheathed his sword with a sharp motion.

This is the end.

Jeanne closed her eyes tightly, bracing for the inevitable. A single, fluid motion passed, leaving a crimson line across her pale neck. Thin rivulets of blood trailed down her slender throat.

But the final blow never came.

The sound of Callisto’s sword clattering against the stone floor broke the silence.

“Your Majesty will be imprisoned in the dungeons and stand trial. The charge will be the regicide of the late emperor.”

“…What?”

Startled, Jeanne’s eyes snapped open.

“Why won’t you kill me?”

She demanded, glaring up at him. Callisto, gazing down at her, suddenly lifted his head.

Above them, the grand chandelier crafted by the Winyates workshop sparkled brilliantly, its crystal prisms reflecting light from red candles swaying gently in the dark. It reminded Callisto of the chandelier in the hall of the Winyates estate, where he had once held Etienne’s hand long ago.

Beyond the window behind him, lightning still cracked across the sky. Thunder rumbled loudly, and cold rain pattered steadily against the glass.

In his childhood, Callisto would crawl into bed during such stormy nights, muffling his sobs under the blankets. That was back when he still had a roof over his head and a blanket to keep him warm—before he spent countless nights cowering in garbage heaps.

It was Etienne who had pulled him out of that darkness, wrapping Callisto in his arms and holding him tightly until morning.

“Will you stay with me? Always? Forever?”

“Of course. I’ll always be by your side.”

“You promised…”

“Yes, I promise.”

That reckless promise of forever had bound Etienne to Callisto, giving the latter the responsibility to ensure his beloved’s happiness.

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