The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 129

Chapter 129: Five Women At A Time (2)
The first thing Argider noticed when she woke up was warmth.

Lots of warmth.

It wasn’t the comforting kind provided by the sun through a window, nor the luxurious coziness of her silken sheets.

No, this was a distinctly human warmth—a tangled, sprawling heap of it.

Groggily opening her eyes, Argider realized she was practically buried under a pile of limbs, soft hair, and gentle breaths.

She blinked a few times, her mind slowly piecing together the chaotic puzzle.

Talia had one arm slung possessively around Argider’s waist, her face resting in the crook of Argider’s neck. Kassandra was curled up on her other side, holding her hand like a child clutching a favorite toy. Amara had managed to claim a spot practically on top of Argider, sprawled half-across her legs with an unbothered smile on her sleeping face.

Viora was nestled comfortably near Argider’s feet, looking like she’d posed herself in her sleep to ensure maximum elegance. And Sylva, the botanist with her endless curiosity, was snuggled up at Argider’s other shoulder, her glasses askew but somehow still managing to look composed even in her sleep.

This is fine, Argider thought, staring at the ceiling. Totally normal for an emperor to wake up like this.

To her surprise, though, she wasn’t overwhelmed. Instead, she felt…oddly comforted.

The weight of their arms and the peaceful rhythm of their breathing calmed something inside her. Sure, nothing remotely romantic—or gods forbid, physical—had happened the night before, but the sheer act of being embraced, surrounded by warmth and affection, felt surprisingly nice.

It was a stark contrast to the cold, lonely nights she’d spent as emperor, where the weight of the crown pressed harder than any embrace.

Now, she was still the emperor, but…in this moment, she felt human.

She almost smiled. Almost.

As the dawn’s light streamed gently into the room, Sylva stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she looked disoriented. Then her gaze landed on Argider, and a small, sleepy smile graced her lips.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice soft and slightly husky from sleep.

“Uh, morning,” Argider replied, her voice still thick with awkwardness.

Sylva leaned up on her elbow, looking down at Argider with an expression that was unreadable yet oddly warm. Without a word, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Argider’s cheek.

The touch was light, fleeting, and oddly innocent, but it sent Argider into a flustered mess nonetheless.

“W-what was that for?” she stammered, her face heating up.

“Just felt like it.”

“O-Okay then… I’ll leave you be with the others. I’ll get some fresh air.”

Hours later, Argider found herself strolling through the palace gardens with her five wives from the previous night.

It was a surreal experience, the emperor-turned-wife-magnet trying her best to juggle conversations with Talia, Viora, Kassandra, Amara, and Sylva.

Each had their own quirks that made the walk entertaining—and occasionally nerve-wracking.

Sylva plucked flowers as they walked, explaining their medicinal properties to a very confused Amara, who kept interjecting with questions like, “But can you eat it?”

Meanwhile, Viora stared wistfully at the horizon, claiming the sky was “an infinite canvas,” which left Kassandra muttering under her breath about how artists always needed better grounding in reality.

Talia, the widow, seemed oddly at peace, a soft smile on her face as she occasionally chuckled at Argider’s obvious discomfort. “You’re doing well for someone trying to be responsible,” she teased, patting Argider’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t exactly given a choice,” Argider muttered.

It was almost peaceful.

Until tranquility shattered when Amara noticed Talia walking a little too close to Argider.

“You’ve been hogging her all morning!” Amara accused, pointing dramatically.

“Hogging? She’s just walking next to me!” Talia defended, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!” Kassandra chimed in, crossing her arms. “We all deserve equal time.”

Sylva sighed. “If we’re arguing, can we at least make it constructive?”

Viora gasped and pointed a trembling finger at Talia. “You’re monopolizing the muse! I need her for inspiration!”

“Oh for God’s sake—” Argider groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

As the squabbling escalated, Argider did what any reasonable emperor would do: she made a tactical retreat.

“Look over there! A rare bird!” she exclaimed, pointing randomly.

When all five heads turned, she slipped into the bushes and bolted.

Argider’s escape led her straight into Elira, who was carrying an armful of herbs and scrolls. The apothecary blinked as Argider emerged from the bushes, twigs in her hair and a harried expression on her face.

“Rough morning?” Elira asked, smirking.

“You have no idea,” Argider grumbled, brushing leaves off her robes.

Elira tilted her head. “So, how was your first night with the wives?”

Argider paused, thinking. “Honestly? It wasn’t as bad as I thought. I mean, nothing happened. We just…slept. It was nice.”

Elira raised an eyebrow. “Nice? From the looks of you, it sounds more like chaos.”

“Oh, it was chaos,” Argider admitted, waving a hand. “But surprisingly cozy chaos.”

Elira snickered. “Well, good for you. But good luck tonight.”

“Why?” Argider asked, tilting her head suspiciously.

Elira grinned wickedly. “I hear Nyra’s on the list for tonight.”

Argider’s eyes widened in horror. “Nyra? You can’t be serious!”

“Dead serious,” Elira confirmed, clearly enjoying her torment.

“Fuck…” Argider muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Elira patted her on the shoulder sympathetically—though her smirk betrayed her amusement. “Good luck, Emperor. You’re gonna need it.”

As the night arrived, Argider entered the chamber with trepidation, her nerves already frayed from Elira’s ominous warning.

Five women awaited her, each sitting on the expansive bed in varying states of awkwardness and curiosity.

Calla Renshade, the sweet baker’s daughter, was fidgeting with her fingers, looking around the room like a lost kitten.

Orla Ventris, the widowed noblewoman, observed the scene with a sly smirk, clearly entertained.

Reina Dalwyn, the tomboyish blacksmith, looked as out of place as Argider felt, her arms crossed and her gaze darting around the lavish room.

Serapina Eldwyne, the disgraced noblewoman, was inspecting her surroundings with an air of faint disdain, no doubt lamenting her circumstances.

And then, there was Nyra.

Nyra lounged at the center of the bed like a cat who owned the world, her emerald eyes twinkling with mischief.

The moment Argider stepped inside, she leaned back, stretched like she was settling into her throne, and purred, “Ah, finally. The emperor has arrived.”

“Please don’t,” Argider muttered under her breath, but it was too late.

The evening started innocently enough. Argider tried to make polite conversation, attempting to learn more about her wives. Calla nervously mentioned her love for pastries.

Reina shyly admitted she once forged a blade for a duke. Orla casually complimented Argider’s transformation with a subtle smirk, while Serapina stayed silent, clearly uncomfortable.

But Nyra? Nyra wasn’t here for small talk.

“Well, since we’re all getting to know each other,” she said, sitting up and fixing everyone with a devilish grin, “why don’t I share a story about our dear emperor?”

Argider froze. “Nyra, no—”

“Oh, yes.”

Nyra leaned in close to Argider, close enough to make the other wives gasp and blush. She tilted her head, pretending to study Argider’s face. “It’s funny how beautiful you’ve become, isn’t it? I mean, you were already striking before, but now…” She trailed a finger along Argider’s jawline, and Argider practically short-circuited.

“Can we not do this?” Argider pleaded.

Nyra ignored her, turning her attention to the other wives. “Did you know that the emperor and I once had a very intimate encounter?”

Calla turned beet red. “I-I didn’t know that!”

Reina choked on her own breath. “Wait, what?!”

Even Orla, the unflappable noblewoman, raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Nyra smirked. “Oh, it was unforgettable. We were in a carriage, traveling through the mountains. The air was cold, but inside… it was warm. Very warm.” She let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her heart for effect.

“That didn’t happen,” Argider interjected weakly.

Nyra continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “The emperor leaned in, looked into my eyes, and said—”

“Stop!” Argider yelped, her face as red as Calla’s.

Nyra grinned wickedly. “And said, ‘Nyra, your beauty is unmatched. I cannot resist you any longer.'”

“I didn’t say that!” Argider protested, glaring at Nyra.

The wives erupted into chaos. Calla looked utterly scandalized, her hands covering her face. Reina muttered something about “needing air.” Orla chuckled, clearly amused, while Serapina just rolled her eyes and muttered, “How undignified.”

Nyra wasn’t done. “And then,” she continued, leaning back dramatically, “we—”

“That’s enough!” Argider jumped to her feet, waving her arms like she was trying to stop a runaway cart. “Nyra, you’re making it all up!”

“Am I?” Nyra asked with a mock-innocent expression.

“Yes!” Argider shouted, but her voice cracked, which only made Nyra laugh harder.

Reina finally found her voice. “Wait… are you two—?”

“No!” Argider exclaimed.

“Not yet,” Nyra teased, winking.

Argider groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “Why did I agree to this? Why am I here?”

Calla, still blushing furiously, whispered, “I think it’s kind of romantic…”

“It’s not!” Argider insisted, but her voice was drowned out by Nyra’s laughter.