80: Chapter 80 My First Night Working in the Palace

Everything was prepared, and Isabella was led to a magnetic levitation palanquin.

It was pitch black, shaped like a coffin, and lined with velvet inside.

Isabella did not hesitate; she bowed and stepped inside, curling up in the soft darkness.

The palanquin glided forward silently, with an unsettling smoothness.

Amidst her chaotic thoughts, she began to repeatedly simulate the scenes she was about to face.

As a survivor who had emerged victorious from brutal household intrigues, Isabella had long since prepared contingency plans for every possibility.

She had imagined that the Emperor might be extremely cold, perhaps so engrossed in some genetic experiment or interstellar battle report that he would merely glance at her as a formality, then dismiss her with a wave of his hand, lacking any interest.

If that were the case, she would need to display a perfectly measured, unobtrusive gentleness and disappointment, perhaps even taking the opportunity to show a naive curiosity about His Majesty's "great cause," leaving behind an opening for future access.

She had also imagined a worse scenario—that the Emperor was a lecherous glutton for desire who viewed his concubines as mere tools for stress relief.

If that were so, she would have to bury her disgust deep within her heart, wrapping herself in extreme allure and flattery, and even use this body to whisper sweet nothings in bed, seeking a chance for advancement for herself and her family.

Just as her thoughts were swirling, the palanquin slowed down and finally came to a complete stop.

After a slight sensation of weightlessness, a gap quietly opened in front, and blinding, cold white light instantly flooded in, dispelling the darkness inside the cabin.

Arrived.

Isabella quickly reined in all her thoughts and sharp edges.

She took another deep breath, forcing that mixture of fear, ambition, and determination deep into her dantian.

When she raised her head and stepped out of the palanquin, her face held only a meticulously practiced, pitiable look of trepidation and docility, her eyelashes lowered, her posture humble, as she walked step by step toward her destiny.

Cheng Yu, the Gene Tyrant notorious throughout the Tempestus Sector, was not wearing his imperial robes at this moment, but a simple casual outfit with a pattern of two fish, one black and one white.

"You have come."

Isabella's heartstrings tightened, and following court etiquette, she bowed softly: "May Your Majesty live forever in peace and health."

To her surprise, Cheng Yu turned around, holding a thick document in his hand.

"Come, take a look at this." The Emperor handed her the document.

Isabella's hand had already subconsciously moved to her sash, preparing to handle the most direct "serving in bed" procedure.

This sudden turn of events made her pause slightly, her movements freezing in mid-air.

The Emperor, however, shoved the document into her arms without explanation.

"Come, I will hold the light for you; read it carefully and tell me if you have any thoughts."

Cheng Yu's tone even carried a hint of inappropriate eagerness.

He personally adjusted the nearby light source to illuminate the document in her hands more clearly, even pulling over a soft stool from beside the throne and pouring her a cup of clear tea.

"It's fine, it's okay, I have a contingency plan..."

Isabella comforted herself in her heart, forcibly suppressing her churning bewilderment.

She sat down as instructed and took the cup of lukewarm clear tea; her fingertips touched the cool surface of the cup, which helped clear her chaotic thoughts a little.

In the eerie atmosphere of the Emperor personally holding the light, Isabella spent a full hour, concentrating intently on reading the fiscal settlement report covering the entire territory of the Empire.

She had assisted her father in managing their family fiefdom since she was young, so she was no stranger to economic affairs.

In all fairness, this report was quite professionally done, with detailed data and clear organization; it was far superior to the work of the old accountants in her family.

"How is it? Do you have any thoughts?" Main Body leaned in closer, his face full of anticipation, like a student waiting for a teacher to grade their homework.

"Thoughts... me?" Isabella was completely bewildered. She raised her glistening eyes and subconsciously asked the question at the bottom of her heart, "Does Your Majesty wish to employ me as an official?"

Upon hearing this, Cheng Yu actually grinned, revealing a smile that was almost silly and completely inconsistent with his title of tyrant:

"Yeah... what else? Didn't anyone tell you before you came? My concubines all have to work."

He immediately raised his voice to instruct the attendants outside the hall, "Someone, bring tea and food for Consort Isabella. Her face shows she is someone who can make decisions."

Isabella watched helplessly as the attendants filed in, bringing not silks or rare treasures, but several exquisite snacks and a bowl of steaming, pungent, refreshing herbal soup.

"It is a blessing to meet you today, Consort..." Cheng Yu rubbed his hands together, his tone becoming a bit embarrassed, yet filled with an earnestness that could not be refused, "I wonder if you would be willing to work through the night for me?"

Just while Isabella was bathing earlier, Cheng Yu had already thoroughly researched her background.

He had spent the whole afternoon looking at this headache-inducing financial report himself and couldn't find any good strategies to effectively stimulate economic growth.

Since this newly appointed Consort could manage her own fiefdom and a group of troublesome retainers so obediently, having her help reorganize the economy of the Hive City seemed to him like the perfect use of talent and a logical step.

Letting her do more because she is capable, that's not too much to ask, right?

I am dull-witted, so I am tired and going to sleep for a while, that's not too much to ask, right?

Thus, in this palace chamber under the flowers and moonlight, a truly bizarre scene unfolded:

The majestic Emperor lay down on the soft couch to the side, fully clothed, and his breathing soon became steady and deep.

Meanwhile, the newly arrived Consort, who should have been serving in bed, sat upright at the imperial desk, draped in gorgeous robes, sipping the refreshing herbal soup while frowning and pondering over a pile of complex reports and data.

Isabella studied until the second half of the night before she finally finalized the basic ideas for improving the Hive City's economy and drafted an outline.

By this time, even the attendants on duty outside the bedroom couldn't help but start dozing off.

But under the influence of the potent herbal soup, Isabella's mind remained exceptionally clear.

However, mental excitement could not completely offset physical exhaustion.

When she finally stopped writing and stretched her stiff shoulders and neck, an uncontrollable yawn hit her, and physiological tears uncontrollably welled up in her eyes, sliding down her smooth cheeks.

Isabella had imagined countless times that she might cry when serving in bed.

Perhaps it would be the weeping of missing her distant hometown, or the sorrow of submitting to a tyrannical demon, or perhaps the grievance and heartache after being neglected, or even the relief after her thoughts became clear and she decided to go all out.

But she never expected that her "first night" would be spent in the imperial palace, working all night on economic analysis spreadsheets, and finally, because she was extremely tired, shedding a tear that was purely a physiological reaction.

Looking at the Gene Tyrant sleeping soundly on the soft couch not far away, Isabella gently wiped away the tear with her fingertip, the corners of her lips curling into a complex and indescribable arc.

The Gene Tyrant, acting as he pleased, truly lived up to his reputation.