The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 64

Chapter 64: Psychosexual Trial (1)
Argider stared at the ceiling, the accusations from earlier replaying in her head like an unwanted melody she couldn’t silence. Murderer. Destroyer. Scum. Each word had been a dagger, sharper than any blade Fialova or her eerie twin could wield.

She scoffed softly to herself. Me? A murderer? Please. She’d never even squashed a bug without apologizing. Yet, despite it all, something about their words clung to her like a ghostly hand on her shoulder.

It wasn’t just the words themselves. It was the way they were spoken with conviction and venom. As if the accusations weren’t wild delusions but unshakable truths. And that unnerved her more than the swordplay or the near-death experience.

Then, she glanced at Fialova’s sleeping face, the soft moonlight casting a gentle glow on her features. “How do you sleep so easily after all that?” she muttered under her breath.

But deep down, Argider knew sleep wouldn’t come for her. Not until she uncovered the truth behind the haunting accusations. Until then, she was stuck with this crippling doubt, clawing at the edges of her mind like a caged beast.

— [New Notifications]

— [Congratulations! Based On Your Recent Actions And Willingness To Imperial Duties, You Have Received EXP Points]

— [All of Your Personality Traits Have Been Capped At Level Five. Choose One of The Personality Levels And A Trial Quest Will Be Generated]

…

— [Choose One Of The Following]

[Cognitive? Y/N]

[Psychosexual? Y/N]

[Moral? Y/N]

[Psychosocial? Y/N]

….

Straight to a test? Figures. Of all the possible trials she might face, they had to pick the time where she felt most vulnerable.

Sure, she’d built a reputation for handling… other aspects of her life. Psychosexual? Please, she’d practically written the book on that battlefield, though lately, it all felt more routine than thrilling.

She’d become numb, like a performer who’d played the same role one too many times. And honestly, the whole “being claimed” dynamic was something she’d grown used to. She was really getting her own taste of medicine, huh?

Moral dilemmas? No comment. Psychosocial? Now there was some progress. People were finally taking her seriously. Well, some people.

But cognitive? That was her Achilles’ heel. A place where decisions demanded precision, foresight, and logic – none of which she considered her strong suits. “Great,” she muttered under her breath. “Let’s see how I can embarrass myself this time.”

Psychosexual it is, then. At least there, she’d be on somewhat familiar ground. Sure, it was messy and chaotic, but she thrived in the mess. A battle of wits and seduction?

Far less terrifying than facing her own questionable decision-making skills. And let’s be honest, she’d take the chaos of feelings and intimacy over mind-numbing logic any day.

“I choose Psychosexual.”

[COMMAND ACCEPTED!]

….

[Installing 1%…]

[Installing 17%…]

…

..

[Installing 60%]

….

— [QUEST TRIAL AVAILABLE!]

— [Proceed? Y/N]

The System before her shimmered, its text flickering like a teasing smirk.

“Proceed?”

Argider squinted at the text. There was no explanation, no clue as to what this “quest” entailed. Just a single, blinking word on the screen, almost daring her to press it. There was uncertainty inside her, but after a long sigh and an exasperated roll of her eyes, she gave in. She had no choice. She pressed “Yes.”

As soon as her finger touched the option, a wave of sleepiness rushed through her. Her eyelids grew heavy, the edges of her vision blurred. She tried to fight it, tried to stay conscious, but it was useless. She collapsed back onto the bed, her body giving in to the deep, inevitable slumber.

“What the hell…?” she mumbled before everything faded into black.

When she awoke, it was as though she had never left.

The room was exactly the same. The bed, the curtains, the faint scent of parchment. It all seemed unchanged. But there was something undeniably different.

But what was that feeling in her bones? It wasn’t just the weight of the room. It was her.

Her eyes shot open in panic. She glanced around the room, trying to get a sense of what had happened, but nothing made sense. It was as if she had woken from one dream into another. No. This was something different.

She rubbed her temples, trying to shake off the confusion that clouded her mind. Her hands felt heavier, her body strangely… elongated. Her skin felt different too, as though it had changed texture, becoming rougher, thicker.

And not just that, her right arm had healed.

Instinctively, she moved her hand downward, reaching between her thighs. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt the unmistakable presence of something foreign.

“No way…” she whispered to herself, breathless.

With trembling fingers, she confirmed it: she had turned back into a man.

She, or rather, he yanked his hand back as if burned. The transformation was complete. No, not just complete. Shocking. He tried to steady herself, standing up and testing her limbs, but everything felt different. Heavier. More solid.

His voice, now deeper and resonating with an unfamiliar timbre, escaped his lips, “What the hell just happened?!”

His words echoed in the empty room, a cruel reminder of how wrong everything felt. He felt like a stranger in his own body.

Argider took a few shaky steps toward the window, his hands gripping the windowsill tightly as if it could anchor his to this reality. He could feel his center of gravity off, her posture different, and it was as though he had forgotten how to walk as a man.

The room suddenly seemed to close in on him, the walls narrowing as his mind raced for any possible explanation. But there were none. No answers. Just more questions.

“System!” he called, frustration thick in her voice. “What kind of twisted joke is this?”

Was this reality? Was everything back then just a joke and punishment after her death?

There was no response. No comforting voice to guide her through this madness, no comforting answers. Instead, the walls of the room began to glow with an eerie light. The words appeared in the air before him, shimmering as if written in liquid gold:

“Revisit your origins. Confront the desires you buried. The trial begins.”

The letters twisted and flickered as they hovered, taunting him, daring him to understand their meaning.

Revisit his origins? Desires he had buried? What was this? Some kind of psychological torment? He couldn’t make sense of it. Had the System done this? Was this part of the trial?

When he looked around, the silence of the room struck him first. Fialova wasn’t there. “Where is she?”

His gaze dropped to his attire, he was still wearing his robe, the one he had been wearing when he had fallen asleep.

The fabric felt heavier now, almost like it had aged overnight, and the faint scent of perfume he had grown used to lingered faintly in the folds. His mind struggled to piece everything together. It’s the day already… He thought as he looked at outside.

He walked to the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway, expecting the usual bustle of palace servants, attendants, and guards. But something was wrong.

It was colder than usual, and the servants he passed didn’t greet him with their usual warmth.

Their smiles were absent, replaced by cold, distant expressions. Their eyes glanced at him, but not with the usual recognition or respect.

There was no acknowledgment of his status. No cheer, no pleasantries. Just… cold indifference.

“Good morning, Your Imperial Majesty,” one servant said, her voice flat, her eyes flicking quickly away as if she didn’t want to be seen. The words felt empty, mechanical.

What is happening?

He continued down the corridor, each step growing heavier with the unsettling atmosphere. Was this part of the trial? Or had he somehow been thrust back into a time before he had become a woman?

The thought gnawed at him. It felt so real, so familiar, but wrong. The servants, the faces, the very air, it all felt like a different reality, one where he was still the emperor in name but had lost all connection to who he had become.

He wasn’t sure how to make sense of it.

Every turn seemed to lead him deeper into confusion. The palace, once filled with warmth and purpose, now felt like a maze of cold stone and empty halls.

A place that no longer welcomed him. Or maybe it never did? he wondered, the question stirring something deep inside him. Had he ever truly belonged in this world? Was he just playing a part, a role thrust upon him by others?

And still, no sign of Fialova. Where was she? Why was everything suddenly so… wrong?

Suddenly, someone bumped into him, knocking him off balance. It was a maid, her arms flailing as she tried to regain her footing.

They both stumbled, and just as she was about to fall, Argider’s reflexes kicked in. He reached out and caught her in his arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer than usual as he steadied her.

The maid looked up at him, her face flush with surprise and embarrassment. “Your Majesty…” she stammered. “I-I’m so sorry…” Her words were barely a whisper, but they carried an odd weight.

As she leaned in a little closer to apologize again, Argider found himself struck by her presence. She was beautiful, curvaceous, with soft brown hair that framed her face delicately, wide, bright eyes that shone like polished hazel gems.

He’d never seen her around the palace before. The maid’s features seemed almost too perfect, the kind of beauty that might make one forget the world for a moment.

Argider’s gaze inadvertently dropped as she shifted, and that’s when he saw it, her ample bosom pressing gently against his chest.

It caught him off guard and it sent a wave of heat surging through him, far more intense than anything he had ever felt before.

The sensation was unbearable. His skin prickled with a burning desire, a deep ache between his thighs that felt so hot, so urgent, that it was almost as if fire had ignited within him.

What? He stumbled back, his hands instinctively moving to cover himself, as though he could hide the erection that had taken him completely by surprise.

The heat radiated from his core, making every inch of him feel like it was on fire. He couldn’t understand why it felt so intense, so completely out of control. What’s happening to me?

He tried to regain his composure, but the discomfort lingered, testing him as the maid stood there, looking confused.