Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 57

Chapter 57: The Spectacle of Justice
The morning started peacefully enough.

I woke up to the usual comforts of royalty a luxurious bed, the faint scent of tea wafting from somewhere nearby, and the muffled sounds of servants moving through the palace.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Nothing hinted at the fact that, in a few hours, I was about to witness my first execution.

[ Good morning, future tyrant. ]

I groaned, burying my face into my pillow. “Shut up.”

[ Oh? Someone’s grumpy today. ]

I peeked an eye open, glancing around my room. Sunlight streamed through the ornate windows, casting a warm glow over the elaborate decor. Everything was calm. Normal.

[ For now. ]

I narrowed my eyes. “What does that mean?”

[ You’ll see. ]

…That was never a good sign.

Before I could interrogate the system further, my door creaked open.

Mara and Elira entered, both looking far too energetic for this early in the morning.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Mara greeted cheerfully, setting down a tray of fresh pastries and tea. “Did you sleep well?”

Elira, the more reserved of the two, studied me with a knowing look. “You’ll need your strength today.”

I frowned. “For what?”

They exchanged glances.

A silent conversation.

“…You’ll see,” Mara said, far too innocently.

I groaned.

That was the second time I had heard that phrase this morning.

Which meant nothing good was about to happen.

Breakfast passed without incident, aside from my growing suspicion that I was being kept in the dark about something.

Mara and Elira had conveniently changed the topic every time I asked what was happening today.

At first, I thought maybe they were planning something fun.

Then I noticed how tense the atmosphere in the palace was.

Servants moved with urgency. Guards stood at attention with sharp alertness. Even the advisors those who were still alive, anyway looked nervous.

Something was definitely happening.

And, judging by the lack of panic, it wasn’t an attack.

Which meant …Oh.Oh no.

[ Congratulations! You figured it out. ]

I froze mid-step.

[ New Mission: Witness Your First Public Execution. Objective: Attend the event and observe. Optional Bonus: Keep your breakfast down. ]

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

[ Afraid not. ]

Mara and Elira must have noticed my horrified expression, because Mara winced.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t realize until we got there,” she admitted.

I stared. “Why is there an execution happening today?”

Elira sighed. “Your parents found the people responsible for the orphanage corruption.”

“…Oh.”

Well.

That made sense.

I should have expected it, honestly.

I had grown up in a family of ruthless rulers, where executions were probably scheduled like weekly meetings.

Still.

It was one thing to know about them.

It was another to actually witness one.

The crowds had already gathered by the time I was led outside.

A large platform had been erected in the palace courtyard, its stone steps lined with guards. At the center stood a massive, ornate execution block, polished to a cruel shine.

And standing before it bound in enchanted chains were the prisoners.

Some of them looked terrified. Others looked resigned. A few even glared defiantly at the crowd.

None of them looked particularly happy about what was about to happen.

Neither was I.

[ You seem conflicted. ]

“…It’s not like I can stop this.”

[ No. But it’s still a first for you. ]

I grimaced.

Because the system wasn’t wrong.

My parents and grandparents stood on a raised balcony, overlooking the scene with their usual regal authority.

Sylvithra and Verania, seated at the center, looked completely unbothered.

If anything, they looked bored.

Sylvithra swirled her wine glass, watching with mild interest. Verania examined her nails.

Eryndor stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Saelira took a sip of her tea.

Like they were waiting for this to be over.

Like this was routine.

I swallowed.

The head executioner stepped forward, his voice booming.

“By order of the Empire, those found guilty of treason against the crown shall be sentenced to death!”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd.

Some people looked relieved.

Others looked uneasy.

And then there were those who watched with eager anticipation.

…Gods.

Was this entertainment to them?

[ People will always fear power. But they’ll also respect it. ]

I stayed silent.

Because honestly?

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

The first prisoner a former treasurer who had stolen from the orphanage funds was dragged forward.

He struggled.

Begged.

Cried out for mercy.

None was given.

The executioner raised his blade.

I clenched my jaw.

[ Are you going to watch? ]

“…Yes.”

The blade fell.

A single clean motion.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

I forced myself to breathe.

[ Mission Progress: 50% Completed. ]

I took another deep breath.

Because the executions had just begun.

The second prisoner was dragged forward, a man with once-proud shoulders that now slumped under the weight of his fate. He did not struggle like the first. He did not beg. He simply stared forward, past the jeering crowd, past the executioner who tightened his grip on the axe, past the imperial family who watched from above. He met no one’s gaze, and in some ways, that made it worse.

I felt the sharp sting of bile rising in my throat as the executioner raised the blade again.

It gleamed under the sun, cruelly polished, uncaring of whose blood it would spill next.

The axe came down.

A sickening crack echoed through the courtyard, followed by the dull, wet thud of something hitting the ground. The crowd roared again, voices blending into a single, deafening wave of approval. Some looked satisfied, others indifferent, but none of them looked away. They had seen this before. It was nothing to them.

To me, it was—

My stomach twisted violently.

I felt sick.

It wasn’t just the sight. It wasn’t just the blood that pooled at the executioner’s feet, seeping into the cracks of the stone like it belonged there. It was the finality of it. The way a life could be snuffed out in a single movement. How a person could exist one second and then gone.

[ Your heart rate has spiked. ]

I gripped the edge of my chair, my nails digging into the fabric. I couldn’t look away, but I wanted to. Gods, I wanted to.

A firm, steady hand rested on my shoulder.

I flinched, but when I turned, it was my mother.

Verania was watching me carefully, her usual amusement nowhere to be found. Her grip was warm, grounding, but there was no softness in her expression.

“This is what it means to rule,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “You must understand that.”

I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight, like it was trying to close around words I wasn’t sure how to say.

Sylvithra leaned forward slightly, her golden eyes unreadable. “One day, it will be your duty to decide who lives and who dies.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

I shook my head instinctively, but Verania’s hand didn’t move.

“There is no room for weakness, my love,” she continued, her tone almost gentle, as if she was explaining something as simple as the weather. “Mercy is a luxury, and luxuries can be dangerous.”

I hated how easily they said it.

How natural it sounded to them.

[ You’re struggling. ]

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the armrest tighter.

No shit I was struggling.

Mara and Elira were still beside me. They hadn’t said a word, but I could feel their presence like an anchor, something steady to hold onto when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

I wasn’t sure when my breathing had become so shallow, but Mara noticed before I did. She knelt beside my chair, whispering just loud enough for me to hear.

“You don’t have to look.”

Elira, standing behind me, hesitated before adding, “No one would fault you for it.”

But that wasn’t true, was it?

I wasn’t just anyone.

I was Elyzara. The heir to an empire. A future ruler. And rulers didn’t have the luxury of looking away.

I opened my eyes just as the next prisoner was dragged forward.

A woman, older than the others, with silver streaks in her hair and a face lined with exhaustion. She didn’t plead. She didn’t struggle. She smiled.

It was a bitter smile. One full of resignation.

She knew she was going to die.

And that somehow that made it even worse.

The executioner lifted his axe.

I held my breath.

The blade fell.

The sound of flesh and steel colliding filled the air.

The roar of the crowd followed.

I couldn’t breathe.

I barely felt Verania’s hand on my shoulder anymore.

The world felt too big, too loud, and yet somehow , I felt so small.