Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord
Chapter 91: A Queen’s Mercy (1)

Chapter 91: A Queen’s Mercy (1)

Step.

Step.

Step.

Each footfall of the soldiers rang out against the marble floors, vibrating faintly through the grand halls like an approaching storm.

Among them walked Steve, hands loosely bound, his eyes flickering from one ornate wall to the next.

He couldn’t help but notice the eerie silence. The palace, for all its majesty, was... underwhelming in terms of protection.

The long corridors they passed through were grand, certainly—towering pillars, velvet-lined drapes, glowing lanterns mounted on gold-plated sconces—but they lacked something else.

Guards.

It was strange. Very strange.

The arcane building he’d once performed in—just a place for exhibitions—had been crawling with armed guards. There, he could barely pull off a minor sleight-of-hand without someone breathing down his neck. But here, in the royal grounds, he’d counted maybe three guards since entering.

Something about that didn’t sit right with him.

’Hmm. Could it be that all the guards are somewhere else?’ Steve mused inwardly.

He leaned forward slightly, casting a glance at the female guard walking just ahead. Her armor clinked softly with each movement, and her long hair was tied back in a strict braid that swayed behind her.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Um... I know this might sound a bit out of place, but... where are all the guards? We’ve been walking for quite some time, and I haven’t really seen many."

The guard didn’t slow her pace. Her tone, when she responded, was firm, measured, and dispassionately calm.

"There’s no need for guards." she said.

"Not here."

Steve blinked.

"No need? I mean, not even a few stationed near the—"

She cut him off with a small shake of her head.

"Even without guards, the Queen Witcher surpasses them all. She doesn’t require protection. The guards that are stationed here are for ceremonial purposes, or to protect the staff. Believe me, if someone were foolish enough to threaten the Queen... they wouldn’t survive long enough to regret it."

Steve’s steps slowed slightly as the weight of those words sank in. He fell silent, processing what she had said.

’...She’s that powerful, huh?’ he thought.

’Strong enough to command an entire palace without needing armed protection... What kind of being is she?’

The chill in the air deepened the farther they walked. Whether it was from nerves or the faint drafts curling through the open halls, Steve couldn’t be sure.

Eventually, they arrived at a pair of polished redwood doors—finely crafted, gleaming under the golden torchlight.

Unlike the grand double doors of a throne room, these were more modest in scale, yet something about them exuded authority. A single guard stood in front of them, spear in hand, unmoving.

The female guard leading Steve came to a stop. She turned around to face him and gestured toward the doors.

"This is the Queen Witcher’s personal chamber." she said.

"She has requested to see you privately."

Steve hesitated. His eyes darted from her to the doors. His pulse quickened. Despite the luxurious surroundings, his stomach twisted with unease.

’I’d have preferred to be in her personal quarters under different circumstances.’ he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

’But here I am. Guess all I can do now is humble up and go along with it.’

He stepped forward. His fingers curled around one of the bronze handles. With a breath held in his lungs, he pushed.

The doors opened slowly.

A soft golden glow spilled out, flooding the hallway with flickering light. The room beyond was aglow with dozens of lit candles.

They were placed on shelves, in sconces, clustered around the floor, and hanging from a low iron chandelier above.

Steve stepped inside.

The chamber was luxurious—medieval yet elegant. Stone walls covered in velvet drapes, thick rugs sprawled across the floor. A king-sized bed, its canopy draped in silken red cloth, stood against the far wall.

Shelves of books, strange herbs, and glimmering trinkets lined the space between.

But it wasn’t the room that took his breath away.

It was her.

The Queen Witcher.

She sat at the far end of the room on a high-backed, cushioned wooden chair—carved with runes and golden inlays.

She was poised, relaxed, her posture regal. A faint smile tugged at her lips, as though she had been expecting him for far longer than the guard’s words implied.

She wore a sheer silken robe—so thin that it barely concealed her.

Beneath it, her figure was clear. Her pale skin glowed in the candlelight. Her full breasts pressed lightly against the fabric, the tips of her nipples visibly hard. Her legs were crossed, long and smooth, the robe split slightly at her thigh.

Steve’s heart leapt.

He quickly averted his gaze, lowering his head in a swift, respectful bow.

’Why... why does she always catch me off guard like this?...always after I’ve used charm master already.’ he thought.

A moment of silence passed.

Then she spoke.

"It’s been a while, Steve."

Her voice was smooth, low, and disarmingly pleasant.

Steve raised his head slowly.

"Y-yeah. It has." His eyes flickered to her face, then back to the floor.

’Get a grip.’ he told himself.

’Now’s not the time.’

She continued smiling.

"You wanted to see me, yes?"

Steve blinked.

"Wait, what? I mean... I was brought here. I didn’t really ask to—"

She interrupted, still smiling, her eyes sparkling in the dim glow.

"Yes, I did summon you. But it seems your own troubles are of greater concern right now, aren’t they?"

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"You... you know why I’m here?"

The Queen Witcher leaned back slightly, her smile deepening.

"I told you before. I am omnipotent. I see all. I know all. That is the nature of my power."

Steve swallowed hard.

"So... is that why you summoned me?"

She tilted her head.

"Not entirely. There’s a more... serious matter at hand."

Steve tensed.

"More serious?"

She nodded, her gaze now sharp.

"You remember what I told you during our last meeting? I warned you—do not involve yourself in noble affairs. Especially those of bloodlines far older than your understanding."

His brows furrowed.

"Yes... I remember. But—"

She raised a hand, silencing him.

"Well, it appears you’ve done the exact opposite." Her tone darkened.

"You’ve entangled yourself with Lady Jennifer of House Stoneborn."

Steve’s face drained of color. His breath caught in his throat.

"H-how do you...?"

Before he could finish, she spoke again.

"I didn’t use my power to find that out. I didn’t need to. The report came from House Stoneborn itself."

His eyes snapped at her.

"What do they want?"

The Queen’s voice was like a cold dagger.

"There is a petition—currently under review—to have you executed, Steve Jobson. On account of physical harm committed against Lady Jenny, noble blood of House Stoneborn."

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