To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 237

“Thank you for granting me this sudden audience,” the emissary, dressed in the traditional attire of the neighboring nation, Zepen, spoke respectfully as he bowed deeply before the throne. His name was Munera, and judging by his appearance, he was a man in his mid-forties, with the smooth tongue typical of a seasoned diplomat.

“First and foremost, I extend the congratulations of His Highness Igor on your recent ascension, King Varkan. News of how quickly your kingdom has stabilized since the coronation has even reached Zepen, and His Highness expressed great admiration.”

Indeed, it was a momentous occasion—Varkan’s first meeting with a foreign emissary since becoming king. And yet, he already found it tiresome.

“That’s enough pleasantries,” Varkan interrupted, his impatience seeping through. He hadn’t become king to waste time on formalities. “Let’s get straight to the point. I’m a busy man.”

One of the things he particularly enjoyed about being king was calling himself ‘I’—something so simple and yet, to him, grand.

“So,” Varkan leaned forward, “why are you here?”

Munera smiled, unfazed by the abruptness. “When such an auspicious event occurs in a neighboring country, how could we not pay a visit? We come bearing gifts to congratulate you and pay our respects to the new king.”

Munera’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, a fact Varkan, once a skilled con artist himself, recognized immediately.

He’s hiding something, Varkan thought. But he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. Better to see what cards the emissary would play first.

“Let’s see this gift, then.”

Munera, keeping his composure, gestured with a slight nod. “Bring it in.”

Varkan’s interest piqued as soon as he heard the polite tone Munera used to call in the gift bearers. Odd. Why would he address a subordinate so formally?

The doors opened, and the person who entered was not what Varkan expected. She was an absolute beauty.

The woman, dressed in traditional Zepen silks, carried a silver tray with the gift atop it. Her outfit was designed to accentuate her features, with her chest half-exposed and her striking red lipstick highlighting her delicate, pale skin. Her long, flowing black hair shimmered as it cascaded down to her waist.

“I greet the new king,” the woman spoke as she gracefully bowed, making sure her cleavage was in full view, her seductive gaze locked on Varkan. “I am Shaeli, assistant to Minister Munera of Zepen’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

Varkan eyed her without a word before extending his hand. Shaeli smiled brightly, thinking he wanted to hold her hand, and reached out to meet his gesture.

But just before their fingers touched, Varkan pulled his hand back and spoke flatly, “Why are you offering your hand? Isn’t there a gift?”

Shaeli’s face flushed in embarrassment as she quickly realized her mistake. Back in her homeland, men would fall at her feet with just a brush of her hand, but this treatment was entirely foreign to her.

“My apologies,” she said, regaining her composure. She picked up the gift and presented it to him.

“Hmm,” Varkan hummed as he examined the gift. When the intricately designed flower wrapping was undone, it revealed Zepen’s famous silk. This silk, woven from the finest threads spun by specially fed silkworms, was among the highest-quality fabric produced in Zepen—so rare that only royalty or high-ranking nobles could acquire even a few rolls each year. The cloth had a beautiful gradient, starting with a pale lavender at the top and deepening to a rich, dark purple at the bottom.

“In Zepen, only royalty may wear purple garments,” Munera added with a smile, stepping forward. “For His Highness Igor to share his personal silk with you is a great honor. It shows just how much he values a bright future between our two nations.”

Or he’s eyeing a son-in-law, or a future pawn, Varkan thought, but kept the observation to himself.

“How thoughtful,” Varkan said with a grin as he accepted the gift. “This will look splendid on my wife.”

“Your… wife?” Munera’s frozen smile faltered.

“Forgive me, but I was under the impression that Your Majesty was still unmarried…?” Munera ventured cautiously.

“Let’s not play dumb,” Varkan replied with a smirk. “We’re not children here.”

Varkan cut off Munera’s words with the kind of arrogance only a man who had nothing to fear could muster.

“You already know I have a woman I’m set to marry, don’t you? I’m sure you’ve done your homework,” he said, his eyes darting between Munera and Shaeli.

Of course they would know. If a neighboring kingdom hadn’t gathered that basic information, their entire diplomatic corps should be disbanded. Varkan could also guess Shaeli’s true identity—likely a member of the royal family of Zepen. Perhaps the king’s sister, daughter, or niece.

“…Yes, we’ve heard the rumors,” Munera finally admitted after a shared glance with Shaeli. It was clear they had dropped the pretense, knowing it wouldn’t work on him.

“I’ve heard your fiancée’s family holds significant military power. Her father controls most of the northern forces as a border lord, and her brother now commands the royal guard. If I were in Your Majesty’s position, I might find it troubling. A wife’s family wielding too much power could be as much a threat as an asset, especially in the early days of a reign.”

“And?” Varkan asked, though he knew exactly where this was heading.

“There is a saying in Zepen,” Munera said quietly, lowering his gaze before whispering so that only Varkan could hear. “Once the hunt is over, the hunting dogs are no longer useful—they are boiled for stew.”

The implication was clear: if Varkan didn’t deal with his powerful in-laws, they might eventually turn on him. Munera’s expression silently added the rest: a weak new regime like Varkan’s could be overturned in a heartbeat if he wasn’t careful.

At that moment, an attendant entered the room, interrupting the conversation.

“Your Majesty, Commander Michael Elorance of the Royal Guard has arrived.”

“Ah, is it that time already?” Varkan remarked, unfazed. It was clear that Michael, Irel’s brother, had assumed the very position previously held by Philip Alswaiz, making his rise in power official.

“Tell him to wait. We’ll finish here quickly.”

Despite Munera’s warning, Varkan didn’t hesitate to accept the audience with Michael, making his intentions clear. The look on Munera’s face was one of bemusement, realizing his attempt to plant seeds of doubt had fallen on deaf ears.

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s unnecessary. It was an interesting waste of time, though.”

Varkan’s lips curled into a cold smile as he recalled the proverb Munera had mentioned.

“You’re worried my wife’s family might be too powerful, that they might turn on me. But let me be clear—I am the one who gave them that power.”

He was the strongest Masaka in the world, and he commanded an elite force of Masaka soldiers. The idea that he would fear anyone, let alone his in-laws, was laughable.

“If you still don’t understand,” Varkan continued, his tone mocking, “stop trying to uproot what’s firmly planted. Instead, go fetch me some pretty stones to line my garden with.”

The message was clear: if Munera wanted to offer something of value, it shouldn’t be a bride—they should propose something meaningful, like trade deals or useful alliances. Varkan had no interest in their thinly veiled attempts to manipulate him through marriage.

Munera’s face twitched with frustration, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. Even Shaeli, who had been offered up like a gift, was clearly insulted.

But that wasn’t all. Varkan’s next words hit harder than either of them expected.

“I hear Zepen is having quite the problem with the Kitans. Isn’t that why you’re really here? You came to ask me to lend you my Masakas, didn’t you?”

The color drained from Munera’s face.

“How… how did you know?” he stammered.

Varkan leaned back in his throne, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face.

“There’s been talk that since my coronation, the Kitans have all but disappeared from my kingdom. Word is they fear me—that they’ve fled.”

Though Munera remained silent, his expression confirmed it. He had heard the same rumors. Varkan’s coronation had not only brought about the miracle of two suns, but had also caused a mass migration of Kitans, who had fled to the mountains like fish returning to their spawning grounds. Ever since, they hadn’t been seen near the kingdom.

“Of course, you’d be interested in that story,” Varkan said smugly. “After all, you’re having a hell of a time with Kitans ravaging your borders, aren’t you?”

Munera’s silence was all the confirmation Varkan needed. Zepen, which was a gateway for the Kitans on the continent, had become overrun with the beasts. In Zepen’s eyes, their kingdom was on the brink of collapse.

That was why they had come. The pleasantries and gifts were just a distraction. Their true aim was to secure Varkan’s Masaka warriors to fight off the Kitan threat.

“I see the picture now,” Varkan continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You came all this way, hoping to beg for my help. The Kitans are running wild in Zepen, and you want my Masakas to clean up your mess.”

Munera was speechless, his composure finally shattered.

“Let’s talk business,” Varkan said, his smirk widening. “You know Masakas aren’t cheap, especially when it comes to wiping out Kitans.”

He rested his chin on his hand, looking down at the emissary with a cold, calculating gaze.

“So, what can you offer in return? And this time, it better be something of real value.”

Varkan’s smile was sharp, a predator ready to take full advantage of the situation.