The Male Lead isn't Following the Script!
Chapter 264: Ruin Him

Chapter 264: Ruin Him

Her hatred for him was all-consuming. She wanted him to suffer, to fall apart, to experience the same kind of despair he had inflicted upon her.

And yet... The sickest part of it all was that she still wanted him to look at her.

She didn’t want his attention.

She shouldn’t want it.

But a twisted, irrational part of her did—if only because it had once belonged to her and no one else.

And now, Adeline had taken even that.

Annora took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She couldn’t afford to lose herself to these emotions.

Edward was unpredictable and dangerous.

He was playing his own game, and she couldn’t let herself become a mere piece on his board.

But deep inside, no matter how much she denied it, she knew—He would always be there, watching from the shadows.

And she would always be waiting for the moment she could finally bring him to ruin.

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Benedict walked through the brightly lit corridors of the Imperial Palace, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpets lining the marble floors.

This showed how the Imperial Concubine her control over the palace. She was always an extravagant woman but ever since Marcus became the Crown prince, she went all out.

The air was heavy with the scent of burning incense, a suffocating fragrance that clung to his clothes and skin. He hated this place. It reeked of deceit and quiet desperation, of people who spent their entire lives grasping for power, only to lose it in the blink of an eye.

But tonight, he had a purpose.

The chamber doors were already open when he arrived. The Imperial Concubine was waiting.

She sat on a lavish couch, draped in silk and fine embroidery, her dark hair falling in perfect waves over her shoulder.

A golden hairpin shaped like a coiled serpent gleamed in the candlelight. She did not look like a woman who had been cast aside, a mere concubine with little standing in the Imperial Court. No—she looked like a queen waiting for her throne.

"Your Grace," Benedict greeted, inclining his head slightly.

The Concubine smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Sir Benedict," she murmured, her voice as smooth as always. "I was wondering when you would finally come to me."

He sent her a secret letter in the dead of night. She was confused but excited, in her fight against her own father to secure control over her own child... She seemed to have found an ally.

Benedict took a seat across from her, keeping his expression neutral. He had no illusions about this woman. She was dangerous. Perhaps just as dangerous as the Empress herself. And maybe just as dumb...

"I assume you know why I’m here," he said.

The Concubine poured herself a cup of tea, the delicate clinking of porcelain filling the silence. She took a slow sip before speaking.

"I can guess," she said with amusement. "It must be about my dear son... Marcus."

Benedict did not respond. There was no need to.

She chuckled softly and set the cup down, leaning forward slightly. "Cassian has returned from the battlefield, and now all the nobles sing his praises. The victorious hero, the perfect prince. How wonderful," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Benedict’s eyes darkened. Cassian. It was always Cassian.

He did not want to only drag Cassian down so that he could never be an Emperor, he wanted to ruin Cassian... Not a prince... He wished for him to be exiled... Disgraced... Hated by everyone... Killed...

Once, Marcus might have had a chance to stand above him. But now? Cassian had returned with every accolade one could dream of. His victories had secured him the unwavering loyalty of the military, and that was a power even the Emperor could not ignore.

Marcus’s future did not look good.

If things continued as they were, Cassian would be reinstated as the Crown Prince. Marcus would be cast aside, forgotten.

Or worse.

Benedict watched the Concubine carefully. She was a mother, but unlike the Empress, she had never lost control over her son. She was the one who shaped Marcus, who controlled his every move, ensuring that he never strayed too far from her grasp.

She would not allow him to fall.

"You fear what will happen if Cassian returns to the throne," Benedict stated.

The Concubine’s smile did not falter, but her grip on the teacup tightened ever so slightly.

"Fear?" she mused. "No, I do not fear him."

Lies.

Benedict could see it in her eyes.

She lived in constant terror of Cassian, just as the Empress did.

Perhaps even more so.

Because unlike the Empress, who had already lost her grip on her son, the Concubine still had something to lose.

"Once Marcus is Emperor," she said, her voice low and steady, "Cassian will be nothing more than a relic of the past. A war hero who has outlived his usefulness."

Benedict nodded. "That is what we both want."

Her smile returned, this time sharper.

"You have ambition, Sir Benedict," she said. "That is why you came to me, is it not? You know that the Northern Territories will never be truly yours if Cassian takes the throne. You will always be his subordinate, his lesser."

Lesser... That word struck a nerve.

"You want power," she continued. "And I want my son to rule. It seems we have a common goal."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, Benedict spoke.

"We will need support," he said. "Cassian has the military on his side. The people adore him. If we move too soon, we will fail."

The Concubine tapped her nails against the table, deep in thought.

"The nobles," she said. "There are many who resent Cassian. They fear what he will become. If he gains the throne, he will not forgive those who stood against him."

Benedict smirked. "Then we make them believe that siding with Marcus is their only chance of survival."