I Accidentally Became The Evil Princess Of This Empire

Harusheen scowled as he looked at the lazy king sprawled across his lavish seat. Servants flanked him on either side, fanning him and feeding him slices of fruit as if he couldn't be bothered to lift a finger.

"So… we meet again. How unfortunate," the king drawled, not even sparing him a glance.

"Tsk. What do you want?" Harusheen snapped.

"It was reported to me that you killed people," the king said, his voice calm yet laced with authority. "Do you realize how severe the punishment is for such a crime?"

"They were criminals," Harusheen argued, his fists clenching. "I was only helping a poor woman and her daughter retrieve the money those thugs stole from them."

The king's gaze remained indifferent. "But you killed them. And in my kingdom, killing is punishable by death."

Harusheen gritted his teeth. Would he really die in this unfamiliar world just for doing the right thing? He only helped the victims because the daughter reminded him of his little sister.

No… he couldn't die here. He had to find a way back to his family.

The king finally looked at him, eyes sharp with curiosity. "However," he continued, sitting up properly and resting his chin on his hand as he studied Harusheen. "I've also received reports that you're highly skilled in combat. Now, I'm starting to doubt that you're just an ordinary man."

At his signal, the guards surrounding the hall drew their swords, their sharp blades gleaming under the torchlight. They stepped forward, closing in on him.

Harusheen instinctively took a step back, mind racing for a way to escape if they decided to strike.

"Tell me, Mr. Pink Hair," the king said, voice dropping to a suspicious tone. "Are you a spy from Montclair Kingdom? Did they send you to gather intelligence and prepare for an attack against us?"

"Montclair what?" Harusheen frowned. "I don't even know what that place is! I already told you—I'm from J City! No one sent me here. I just woke up, and boom—I was already in this place! I don't even know how to get back." His voice grew frustrated. "All I want is to return home. This world makes me sick."

The king studied him in silence. Was this man truly telling the truth? Yet, according to the reports, he had cut down those thieves with incredible swordsmanship. Too skilled for an ordinary outsider.

"Then how do you explain your sword skills?" the king asked.

Harusheen let out an exasperated sigh. Another explanation. "My uncle introduced me to a sword master. He's the one who trained me. I'm sure every place has its own swordsmen and disciples, right? Can't you just believe me? I'm not an enemy. I didn't come here by choice, and I don't even remember how I ended up in your kingdom. All I want is to return home and live in peace."

The king tapped his fingers against the armrest of his seat, deep in thought. This man… he might be telling the truth. But if he truly had no way back, then perhaps his exceptional skills could serve a purpose.

A smirk played on the king's lips.

"Interesting…"

The Targaryen Kingdom was an ally of the Serolf Empire. Its king's older brother was the current emperor of the Serolf Empire.

A year ago, when the Montclair Kingdom declared war on the empire, tragedy struck.

The Montclair Kingdom lies in the westernmost region beyond the empire. It is a mysterious kingdom, as it refuses to form alliances or friendships with other nations. To reach Montclair, one must travel for days through the treacherous Snowstorm Mountains. However, one day, Montclair unexpectedly announced an alliance with several other kingdoms and countries—particularly those known for rebellion and isolation. Shortly after, they declared war on the Serolf Empire, the largest empire in the region.

The true nature of Montclair's alliances remains a mystery.

The emperor of Serolf Empire fell ill under a mysterious curse, rendering him weak at a crucial moment. To make matters worse, some members of the imperial ministry and noble households betrayed the empire, joining forces with the enemy.

The war was still ongoing. The Serolf Empire managed to hold on only because of the unwavering support from Targaryen and the Firenzan Country. His remaining siblings stood by the emperor's side, assisting him in any way they could. But the cost had been heavy—one of his sisters was killed in battle, and one of his brothers had gone missing.

Now, only three royal siblings continued to fight for Serolf: Arash Targaryen, the king of Firenzan, and their sister—a powerful mage.

For the moment, the Montclairs had shifted their focus entirely to conquering Serolf, halting their attacks on Targaryen. But it was only a matter of time before they turned their sights back on them. They needed more warriors—skilled fighters who could help strengthen their forces.

If Harusheen agreed to fight for them, it would be a great advantage.

The king cleared his throat. "I have a way to reduce your punishment."

Harusheen's eyes widened. "Really?"

"If you fight alongside us and help us defeat the Montclairs, you will be pardoned of your crime," the king explained.

Harusheen fell into deep thought. This is my chance to survive in this world.

If he stayed on good terms with the king, it could work in his favor. While aiding them in battle, he could also search for his brothers. He was certain they were somewhere in this world.

But why were they here? What was that strange light that brought them to this place? He needed to find out.

Straightening his posture, he locked eyes with the king. "Alright, I'll help you. But I have one condition."

The king raised a brow before scoffing lazily. "You can't negotiate. You're a criminal—your conditions don't matter. I won't hear it."

"What?" Harusheen's expression darkened, irritation flashing in his eyes.

The king's face turned serious once more. "Remember—you are fighting to lessen your crime. We will set you free, but we will also be watching you. If you dare to betray us…" His gaze sharpened. "You'll be beheaded."

Harusheen clenched his fists. I have no choice.

"Fine," he muttered. Then, crossing his arms, he added, "At the very least, can I know your name?"

A smirk curled on the king's lips. He rose to his feet, his voice booming with confidence.

"I am Arash Targaryen, the most handsome and strongest king of Targaryen!"

As if on cue, the servants blew their trumpets in celebration.

The maids, watching from the sidelines, clapped their hands in admiration, their eyes sparkling with adoration for their king.

Meanwhile, Harusheen stood motionless, his expression blank. Is this guy for real?

He's terrifying… but also kind of ridiculous.