The Strategist Queen and the Shadowy Brother

Marta was now plagued by a throbbing headache.

For when confronted with documents, Ophelia seemed to transform into an entirely different person, her eyes devoid of emotion, her whole demeanor emanating a chilling coldness.

“Queen…” This stark difference compelled Marta to utter a soft call.

Ophelia turned her head.

Her eyes, astonishingly, held nothing but icy scrutiny, and in that instant, Marta felt as though her very being and every dark emotion she harbored had been laid bare. A shiver ran through her as Ophelia rose to her feet.

“Are you craving this body?”

“If you desire it, come. I shall attend to my documents, and you may arouse (TL Note: ‘潮’ (cháo) is used here as a slang verb for ‘to arouse’ or ‘to cause to become wet/excited’) me. We shall solve each other’s problems, without interference.”

Marta: ???

This pronouncement struck her speechless with shock. How could the Queen utter such words? Did the Queen possess another soul within her!?

“Are you not aroused? Or do you wish for this body to arouse you?”

Marta’s mouth fell open, yet no words escaped her. Had it been the usual Ophelia asking, she would likely have complied without a second thought, but now, she found herself utterly speechless.

“No answer? Very well, then. I shall continue with my documents.”

Not a single flicker of emotion crossed Ophelia’s face.

She turned back to her work, resuming her task as Marta stood bewildered, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. ‘Had the Queen seen through her intentions long ago? Was this truly the Queen’s working state? Which of these Queens — this one, or the melancholic one she knew — was the real Queen?’

‘And why did the Queen speak of such matters as casually as one would of eating and drinking… Marta had intended for the Queen to rely on no one but her, and then, over the course of an entire day, to gently and delicately bring her to the heights of ecstasy…’

‘The Queen is sacred in her heart! How could she so casually… so casually…’

Marta’s mind was a tangled mess, yet Ophelia remained impassive, writing with furious speed.

She stole a glance, and the Queen’s evaluations of the ministers’ proposals and the solutions she offered grew increasingly startling. Those assessments and plans could only be described by a single word: “reasonable.”

They were excessively reasonable, prompting Marta to look at the Queen once more.

Unsurprisingly, she again met Ophelia’s emotionless red eyes.

“What? Do you wish to arouse me now?”

She fought the urge to respond with “yes,” shaking her head instead.

“If not, please step aside a little. You are obstructing the documents, and completing these is of great importance to Ophelia.”

Ophelia urged her on.

Marta instinctively moved aside.

Maintaining her jumbled thoughts, Marta guarded Ophelia for a full day and night, until one o’clock the next morning, by which point she was utterly exhausted. Ophelia’s expression, however, remained unchanged.

“Let us return. We have two hours. Bathe and change your clothes. We are to proceed to the venue where Prince Eli frequently entertains his guests.”

Before Marta could even ask why they were going, Ophelia had already risen. Weariness and Ophelia’s inquiries from the previous day sent a flurry of thoughts through Marta’s mind, leaving her no choice but to follow Ophelia.

****

Not long after Ophelia’s departure.

A man with an indifferent gaze, clad in black, and possessing the predatory keenness of a hawk and the wary vigilance of a wolf (TL Note: 鹰视狼顾之相 (yīng shì láng gù zhī xiàng) describes a person with a sharp, observant gaze, often implying a cunning or ambitious nature), walked in. This man was none other than the male lead, the King’s younger brother, yet he held little status, and everyone jestingly referred to him as “Imperial Uncle.”

This Imperial Uncle entered the room.

He picked up Ophelia’s document, scrutinized it, and his eyes widened in shock. Then, surveying the stack of processed files Ophelia had left, his gaze gradually shifted from astonishment to a brooding gloom.

“Ophelia…”

He clenched his fist, crumpling the document within his grasp, yet he remained oblivious to it.

“You possess no awareness of being a mere pawn… Ophelia, you actually harbor ambitions of becoming a player?”

“It appears my strategy must also undergo a transformation.”

“Do not blame me, Ophelia. I am but a pitiful bird, flapping my wings for a lifetime, yearning only to escape the abyss named ‘mediocrity.’ Only your death can grant me the opportunity to take the stage, and yet now, not only are you alive, but you possess such talent…”

“Then do not blame me for employing another method to cast you aside as a forgotten piece. Those who stand in my way shall perish…”

Clad in black, a darkness so profound even sunlight seemed unable to penetrate it, he then turned and departed, akin to a bloodthirsty bat melting back into the shadows, biding his time.

****

Ophelia slowly stirred awake.

Feeling remarkably refreshed, she saw only a veil of mist before her eyes. She discovered herself immersed in hot water, finding the sensation profoundly comforting.

Both her hair and skin felt as though they had been meticulously treated with various skincare products. Ophelia paused, startled, believing it to be Marta’s doing, then shyly submerged her head into the water, gurgling out bubbles.

[What Marta? It was this System that meticulously cared for Host’s hair and skin! Host still has much to learn about being a girl!]

A protest flashed through her mind, and the System’s voice seemed to have lost some of its icy detachment, now carrying a faint hint of emotion.

‘Good, good.’

Ophelia let out a breath.

[Host should make haste and dress. It is now 2:15 PM, and at 3 PM, Prince Eli is scheduled to break off his engagement with another female lead. Host intends to be present, does Host not?]

‘Time is so pressing? I thought I might have a moment to rest!’ Ophelia hastily rose to her feet, trailing a cascade of water droplets.

She turned, and then beheld her own reflection in the mirror.

Water vapor diffused through the air, creating a hazy mist. Ophelia, with her white hair and crimson eyes, stood utterly naked, resembling a fairy from a storybook, emanating a subtle, alluring mystique.

The mirror, too, was shrouded in a watery haze, revealing only Ophelia’s melancholic red eyes.

Once again, she realized the extent of her own devastating beauty, capable of toppling kingdoms.

And the fact that she was completely naked sent a rush of heat through her veins.

‘It’s said that boys, after becoming girls, must reward themselves, and I haven’t had the chance yet…’

[Host!]

[Quickly, get dressed! Purge those lewd thoughts from your mind! Is this truly the time for such activities? Make haste and cultivate the female lead!]

Ophelia’s secret thoughts exposed, her face flushed crimson. She pouted, then began to dry her body with a bath towel.

When she reached certain areas, Ophelia secretly lingered, wiping them a little longer, intently focusing on the sensation. The result was her legs giving way, and she collapsed abruptly to the floor.

‘What is this feeling…?’

‘A strange sensation, like an electric shock, rendering me unable to stand, my entire body feeling utterly limp…’

‘Why am I so sensitive…? I merely touched it…’

‘Like a sweet poison.’

‘A mere taste, and it will drag you into the abyss…’

Ophelia took three consecutive deep breaths, only then managing to suppress her urge to continue touching. She re-wiped the areas that had become damp once more, then struggled to her feet.

Dressing, she stepped out.

Marta, who had been resting with her eyes closed, heard the movement and hastily rose to her feet.

“Queen?”

A few water droplets still clung to Ophelia’s skin, her hair cascaded down, wet. Her gaze had returned to its melancholic state, yet now held a renewed spark of vitality.

‘Excellent, she has returned to being the Queen I know.’

Marta dared not ponder what had transpired with the Queen yesterday; truthfully, she now felt a slight apprehension in facing her. Her gaze darted away, yet the Queen seemed to shimmer.

Fresh from her bath, she radiated brilliance under the sun, but before Marta could fully appreciate the sight, Ophelia’s words caused her eyes to dim—

“Come quickly with me, Marta. We must now go and rescue another poor girl!”