The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 134

Chapter 134: A Signal (1)
In the peaceful embrace of the tea garden, Argider exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the past week slowly lifting off her shoulders.

At last, the chaos of the wedding nights was over, and she was free to spend a quiet moment to herself.

She reached for the teacup the butler had placed on the elegant table, marveling at how serene everything felt compared to the whirlwind of wives competing for her attention.

Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach. She had been feeling… different lately—nothing too dramatic, just an odd sense of queasiness and tenderness that reminded her of the warnings Mira and Elira had drilled into her head about early pregnancy symptoms. Her fingers traced small circles over the silk of her dress.

The butler, ever-watchful, raised an eyebrow but said nothing, maintaining his professional demeanor. Still, Argider could sense his curiosity.

Before she could delve too deeply into her thoughts, the sound of soft footsteps caught her attention. She looked up just in time to see Sylva Arathorne approaching, her pristine gown billowing slightly in the garden breeze. Argider blinked. Behind Sylva were two small children—a boy and a girl, toddling along with innocent giggles and sticky fingers clutching sweets.

“Good heavens,” Argider muttered, choking on a breath. “Triplets?”

Sylva raised an elegant brow. “Ah, not all of them are mine. Just the boy and the girl. The other one’s my cousin’s child.”

Argider’s jaw nearly dropped. “Just? Sylva, you gave birth to two at the same time! And you’re already walking around like it’s nothing?!”

Sylva laughed softly, her serene demeanor unshaken. “It’s amazing what the body can endure when you don’t have a choice, dear Emperor.”

Argider gestured to an open seat, her mind reeling. “Please, sit. I have to know your secret. And more importantly, how are you so calm about all of this?”

The children, meanwhile, had taken up seats at a small table nearby, happily devouring biscuits and slurping tea that seemed far too refined for their small hands. Argider watched them with a mix of amusement and terror. She could barely imagine handling one child, let alone two at once.

Sylva settled into her seat gracefully, folding her hands in her lap. “It’s all about preparation, really. That, and knowing when to delegate.”

Argider couldn’t help but groan. “Delegation? I can barely delegate who’s allowed to kiss me in public without sparking some kind of scandal.”

Sylva chuckled. “You’ll manage. Motherhood has a way of sharpening your instincts.”

Argider shot her a skeptical look. “If you say so. Right now, my instincts are screaming ‘run.'”

Their banter continued, lighthearted and playful, until Sylva’s eyes narrowed slightly. Her gaze flickered to Argider’s tea, then to the arrangement of flowers adorning the saucer. A faint crease formed on her brow.

“Wait,” Sylva said abruptly, reaching out to stop Argider mid-sip. “Don’t drink that.”

Argider froze, the teacup hovering just shy of her lips. “Why?”

Sylva leaned closer, examining the floral garnish with the precision of a botanist—because, of course, she was one. Her expression darkened. “This flower shouldn’t be here. It’s harmless on its own, but combined with tea leaves… it could cause a reaction.”

Argider’s stomach flipped—not from nausea this time, but from a sudden wave of unease. “What kind of reaction?”

“Dizziness, maybe worse. It depends on the person,” Sylva replied, her tone grim.

Argider set the teacup down so quickly it clattered against the saucer. Her eyes darted to the butler, who stood nearby, still as a statue but visibly tense under Sylva’s piercing stare.

“Explain yourself,” Sylva demanded, her voice sharp.

The butler hesitated, his usually calm demeanor faltering. “I… I assure you, my lady, it was a mistake. A simple oversight in the preparation.”

Argider’s gaze hardened. She might have been exhausted and overwhelmed, but she wasn’t about to let something like this slide. “An oversight involving my tea? Do you realize what could have happened?”

Sylva remained silent, her presence imposing as she continued to scrutinize the butler. “Mistakes like these don’t happen easily,” she murmured. “Especially not with such specific flowers. You’d better have a very good explanation.”

The butler opened his mouth to respond, but Argider cut him off, her voice cold. “Find the head steward. Now. And don’t think about disappearing—we’ll be having a conversation about this later.”

As the butler retreated, Argider leaned back in her chair, exhaling shakily. Sylva reached over, resting a reassuring hand on her arm.

“You handled that well,” Sylva said, her tone gentle but firm. “But be careful. You’re not just the Emperor now—you’re a mother-to-be. You have to think about more than just yourself.”

Argider nodded, her mind racing. “I know. It’s just… a lot to take in.”

Sylva smiled, a rare softness in her expression. “You’ll manage. And if you ever need advice, you know where to find me.”

The children, blissfully unaware of the tension, giggled over their tea. Argider watched them, her earlier anxiety easing slightly. Maybe, just maybe, she’d figure this whole thing out.

Hours later, the butler returned shortly, his demeanor calm but the faintest sheen of sweat betraying his nerves. He approached the table, bowing low. “Your Majesty, Lady Sylva. I have returned as instructed. However, the head steward seemed busy.”

Sylva wasted no time, sliding the untouched cup of tea toward him. Her voice was cold as steel. “Drink it.”

Argider blinked. “Wait, what? Sylva, isn’t that a bit—”

“No,” Sylva interrupted firmly, her gaze fixed on the butler. “If it’s harmless as you claim, prove it.”

The butler, to Argider’s shock, didn’t flinch. With steady hands, he lifted the teacup, tipped it to his lips, and drank deeply. He set the empty cup down with a soft clink, his expression unchanging. “As I said, my lady, a mere oversight.”

Sylva’s sharp eyes narrowed. She reached for the floral garnish, plucking it delicately and turning it in her fingers. Something about its placement, its pairing with the tea leaves, bothered her. She brought the flower closer to her nose, inhaling lightly. Her brows furrowed as recognition struck like lightning.

“This isn’t poison,” Sylva muttered, though her tone was far from reassuring. Her fingers worked swiftly, examining the intricate petals, the faint discoloration near its base. Her gaze darted to the butler. “But this isn’t ordinary, either.”

Argider leaned forward. “Sylva, what are you saying?”

Sylva didn’t answer. Instead, she stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone floor as she scanned the garden. Her breath hitched. Her eyes landed on the precise placement of the flower beds, the layout of the garden itself. Slowly, her face turned pale, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“This… this is a signal,” she said, her words tinged with dread.

Argider’s heart skipped a beat. “A signal? For what?”

Sylva turned to her, her eyes wide and unblinking. “I don’t know… but it’s already been sent.”