Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 43

Chapter 43: A Quiet Dinner, Ruined
Night has settled like a thick velvet cloak over the palace, the hallways hushed save for the occasional flicker of torchlight casting long, twisting shadows along the stone walls. I walk through the dimly lit corridors, my footsteps barely audible, yet each step echoes in my head louder than necessary. My mind still simmers with the remnants of today’s ordeal, the endless stream of nobles, their incessant questions, their unbearable proximity.

[You survived. Barely. But still.]

I roll my eyes, not bothering to respond. It’s been hours since the salon incident, yet the system’s amusement remains disturbingly intact. It’s unnerving how much enjoyment it gets from my suffering.

[Admit it. You enjoyed it too. Especially the part where you convinced them you stuff dead animals for fun.]

A smirk tugs at my lips despite my exhaustion. Alright, that part was satisfying. Watching their horrified expressions had almost made the entire ordeal worth it. Almost.

The grand dining hall awaits ahead, its double doors carved with intricate patterns of dragons and constellations, gilded with gold that gleams faintly under the torchlight. I pause for a moment, inhaling deeply, preparing myself. Not for battle though it might as well be but for my family.

I push the doors open, and the familiar sight of the long dining table greets me, illuminated by dozens of floating crystal lights that hover lazily above, casting a soft glow over the polished wood and gleaming silverware. The scent of roasted meats, spiced vegetables, and freshly baked bread fills the air. My stomach growls in response, betraying me.

Seated at the head of the table are my mothers, Verania and Sylvithra, their contrasting appearances as striking as ever. Verania, regal and fierce, with deep navy hair cascading down her back and sharp gold eyes that miss nothing. She holds a goblet of dark wine in one hand, the other drumming lightly on the table as if already growing impatient for my arrival. Sylvithra, by contrast, radiates an almost ethereal calm with her silver hair neatly braided over one shoulder, her piercing gaze soft yet calculating. She’s the quiet storm to Verania’s wildfire.

To their sides sit my grandparents the four most formidable people in existence, if you ask me. Grand Empress Saelira and Grand Warlord Eryndor on one side, and Grand Consort Ilythia and Grand Strategist Veylen on the other. Their presence alone could bring kingdoms to their knees. To me, they’re… well, still terrifying. But family, nonetheless.

The moment I step inside, six pairs of eyes lock onto me. There’s a beat of silence.

“Elyzara!” Verania’s voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and thrilled. She stands abruptly, causing her chair to scrape against the floor with a screech that makes me wince. “Finally!”

Sylvithra rises more gracefully, her expression softening. “There you are, dear.”

Before I can respond, my grandparents are on their feet as well, all four of them looking far too excited for what’s supposed to be a simple dinner. I eye them suspiciously as I make my way to my seat.

[They’re excited. That’s never a good sign.]

No kidding.

“Sit, sit!” Saelira urges, gesturing dramatically. “We’ve been waiting.”

I lower myself into my chair, noting how they all seem… unusually eager. Too eager. I narrow my eyes at them.

“What?” I ask flatly.

Verania grins, leaning forward on her elbows like a mischievous child. “We just want to know how your day was, sweetheart.”

The word sweetheart drips from her mouth like honey. It’s unsettling.

“Fine,” I reply, reaching for a slice of bread. “It was a quiet day.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, as expected—

“Was?” Eryndor raises a brow. “Past tense?”

Sylvithra’s lips twitch in amusement. “Do tell.”

I sigh, tearing a piece of bread apart more aggressively than necessary. “It was quiet. Until a horde of nobles decided to interrogate me like I was some rare beast on display.”

Laughter ripples through the room. I glare at them. It only makes them laugh harder.

[Oh, they’re going to love this.]

“Interrogated?” Saelira chuckles, sipping her wine. “About what?”

I shoot her a look. “Everything. What I like, what I do for fun, whether I’ve ever burned anyone alive—” I pause. “Actually, no. That last one would’ve been far more interesting.”

Sylvithra smiles, serene as ever. “What did you tell them?”

I lean back in my chair, eyeing them warily. “Alchemy. Taxidermy. Dissecting minds. You know, the usual.”

Eryndor chokes on his drink, while Ilythia laughs behind her hand. Verania looks outright delighted.

[You really are their favorite.]

Verania leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Did it work?”

“Of course it worked,” I mutter. “They fled like frightened deer.”

“Excellent.” Sylvithra’s approval is quiet but clear.

I glance between them, suspicious. “Why do you all look so pleased?”

“We raised you well,” Eryndor smirks.

“Obviously,” I retort, rolling my eyes.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence as plates are passed around, servants appearing and disappearing like shadows, filling goblets and serving dishes. Just as I start to think I might get through this dinner without further interrogation, Verania strikes again.

“So, what’s the plan if it happens again?”

I blink at her. “What?”

“If more nobles corner you,” she elaborates, slicing into her roast. “What will you do next time?”

I frown. “I’ll… handle it.”

“That’s vague,” Saelira remarks, unimpressed.

[You should’ve seen this coming.]

Verania grins, far too amused. “Darling, you know you can just burn them.”

I freeze. “What?”

“If they’re that annoying,” she continues nonchalantly, “just set one on fire. It’ll make the rest reconsider.”

I stare at her, waiting for the punchline. There isn’t one.

[She’s serious. This is beautiful.]

Sylvithra nods thoughtfully. “It would certainly be effective.”

My mouth falls open. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” Ilythia shrugs. “It’s practical.”

“It’s arson!” I sputter.

“Selective arson,” Eryndor corrects.

[I’m in awe.]

I run a hand down my face. “You’re all insane.”

“Insanely supportive,” Verania quips.

I groan. “I’m not burning nobles.”

“Just one,” Saelira suggests. “Think of it as a… warning.”

“No.”

Sylvithra sighs, as if disappointed. “Such a shame. It would solve so many problems.”

“You want me to commit casual murder at a tea party?”

“Not murder,” Verania corrects cheerfully. “Just a little… scorching.”

[I’m begging you, please do it.]

“Absolutely not,” I mutter.

“Fine,” Eryndor relents, though his tone suggests he doesn’t mean it. “No arson.”

“Yet,” Ilythia adds under her breath.

This is my family. These are the people shaping my future.

[No wonder you’re destined for greatness.]

I don’t know whether to laugh or scream.

The rest of dinner passes in a blur of sarcastic remarks, questionable advice, and too much wine poured by my far-too-enthusiastic grandmother. As I finally retreat to my chambers, the lingering echo of their laughter follows me down the halls. I can’t help but smile.

Gods help the world when I finally take over.