— — — — — —
Everyone picked up their copy of the reform plan, but instead of reading it right away, their eyes turned to Dr. Stylish—clearly confused.
Stylish frowned, noticing something was off. He looked toward Renzo. "Your Majesty... is there one missing? I don't seem to have a copy."
"Nope. Not missing," Renzo replied coldly, locking eyes with him. "You're just not going to need it."
"Dr. Stylish! Over the years, you've used your Teigu—Glorious Hands of God: Perfector—to commit all sorts of horrors. You've conducted human experiments and used countless innocent people as lab rats."
"I did the math. You've got at least ten thousand lives on your hands, haven't you?"
"You're a monster. A walking pile of sin."
"And on top of that, you went and created a squad of artificial Danger Beasts—made from innocent civilians and death row prisoners. You tried to hide it, but guess what? I know."
"So yeah. You deserve to die."
Renzo could overlook some past mistakes from his subordinates—but what Dr. Stylish had done was beyond redemption. It was inhuman. And Renzo had no intention of sparing him.
To him, Stylish is like Shou Tucker from Fullmetal Alchemist. So yeah, even death is merciful for people like them.
The others were visibly shaken. After hearing Renzo's accusations, their expressions toward Dr. Stylish changed—especially Run. His gaze turned ice-cold.
If what the emperor said was true… then Dr. Stylish really must die.
"I see, that's our goodbye then~!"
Dr. Stylish made a dash for the window, trying to escape without hesitation.
"Freeze."
A cold voice rang out. Instantly, Dr. Stylish's body locked in mid-air, paralyzed, unable to move a muscle.
Renzo lazily raised his hand and made a small beckoning gesture. The Teigu Perfector slipped right off Dr. Stylish's arms and floated over into Renzo's grasp.
"Absolute Zero."
With a simple command, a wave of frost exploded from Renzo's fingertips—and Dr. Stylish was instantly turned into a frozen statue of shimmering ice.
Snap!
Renzo casually snapped his fingers, and the statue shattered into thousands of glittering shards. They dissolved into the air like snowflakes in the wind—leaving not even a drop of blood behind.
"...Holy crap."
Run and the others couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath. They just stared at Renzo, stunned.
Is the emperor really this powerful…?
"Alright. Trash taken out," Renzo said matter-of-factly. "Now get serious and go through the plan. I'll be assigning key parts of the reforms to each of you."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The others snapped back to attention, nodding quickly as they opened their plans and started reading.
Renzo noticed Bols seemed uneasy. His hands trembled slightly as he tried to concentrate—but his guilt was practically leaking from his body.
Thud!
Suddenly, Bols stood up and fell to his knees before Renzo, head bowed low.
"Your Majesty… I… I have sins to confess, too!" he said, voice shaking. "In the past, under orders, I used my Teigu to burn innocent people alive… Please, punish me!"
"My only request—please spare my family. They're innocent. All the blood is on my hands!"
The others froze, staring at Bols in shock.
Wait—Mr. Bols, too?
But… he'd seemed like such a kind, gentle guy these past couple of days.
Renzo let out a soft chuckle.
"Get up," he said. "You already explained—it was under orders. That means the full weight of that guilt doesn't rest on your shoulders. At the time, you were a soldier. And a soldier's duty is to obey."
"I'm pardoning you."
"I'll launch an investigation to track down the ones who gave those orders and hold the real culprits accountable."
"That said… you're not innocent, at least not morally. But I can feel the guilt eating away at you."
"So, here's your punishment—every month, from now on, you'll donate 90% of your salary to help the families of those who died because of your actions."
"If those families are gone, then the money will go toward a charity that helps orphans, the elderly, and the vulnerable. Understood?"
Renzo had peeked into Bols' memories—what he saw was a man who was shy, kind, and gentle at his core.
But in this rotten, twisted world, kindness alone wasn't enough to protect yourself or your family.
That was exactly why Renzo had to push for reform.
Stay in this horrible world too long, and anyone would lose their mind.
If he didn't have the power, he could've endured it. But now, standing at the very top—armed with the strength and authority to do something—why shouldn't he tear down these ancient, idiotic systems? Why shouldn't he wipe out the corruption and filth?
He was going to build a new Empire—one unlike anything the world had ever seen.
...
"Yes! Thank you, Your Majesty! I… I…"
Whether it was regret or a sense of relief, Bols couldn't finish the sentence.
By the end, he just broke down and started crying.
But he felt… lighter. Like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest.
At the very least, there was someone who understood him. Someone who didn't condemn him, but guided him forward.
In that moment, Bols' loyalty to Renzo skyrocketed—completely maxed out.
Just then, Run spoke up. "Actually, I've looked into Bols' past too. What His Majesty said is true—he was forced into it. And the fact that Mr. Bols stood up and admitted to everything on his own? That takes guts. He's not so bad after all."
"Thank you… thank you…"
Bols just kept repeating it over and over, overwhelmed with emotion.
"Alright, let's keep going," Renzo said with a smile. "This reform plan is a perfect chance for redemption."
"You're not just getting a second chance—you're about to help change the entire Empire. You're going to be part of something huge."
"Something that'll give the common people real hope."
Renzo looked at them all seriously as he spoke.
One by one, the group turned their attention back to the documents in their hands, reading through them with focus.
Once he finished, Run was the first to rise. He took a deep breath, then dropped to one knee in front of Renzo, eyes shining with purpose.
"Run pledges his loyalty to Your Majesty!"
He'd read the whole plan. He understood exactly what Renzo was trying to do.
And it was everything he'd dreamed of—and more. Not only did it match his ideals, it went beyond them. It was bold. Sweeping. Complete.
If this plan truly succeeded, then not only would the Empire be reborn, but all its suffering citizens would finally have a real shot at a better future.
In that moment, all of Run's doubts and worries vanished. All he wanted now was to be part of that change.
"Seryu Ubiquitous pledges loyalty to His Majesty!"
"Kurome too!"
"Bols is ready to serve to the death!"
One after another, the others followed suit, kneeling and swearing allegiance.
It was clear—they didn't oppose the reform plan. In fact, most of them seemed genuinely eager to help bring it to life.
"Good. You may rise," Renzo said, nodding in approval.
With a wave of his hand, he lifted them to their feet using his psychic power. The four of them exchanged surprised glances, floating gently upward as Renzo smiled, clearly pleased.
"Haha… I'm very satisfied with your attitude. Then—"
Thud!
Suddenly, Kurome clutched her chest in pain. The snacks she'd been nibbling fell from her hands as her face went pale and her body trembled. Sweat poured down her forehead as she collapsed to the floor.
"Huh? Kurome, what's wrong?!"
"Are you okay?!"
Run and Seryu immediately rushed to her side, concern written all over their faces.
Kurome gritted her teeth, barely able to speak through the pain. "It… hurts…"
"What the hell's going on?" Run muttered, his brows furrowed in worry.
"Step aside. Let me take a look."
Renzo walked over calmly and placed his hand on Kurome's forehead. He closed his eyes and sent a wave of spiritual power into her body to examine her condition.
Moments later, his expression darkened.
"…What a mess. Looks like more people from the assassination division need to be held accountable."
He frowned deeply. "These drug-based body modifications need to be banned. Immediately."
Saying her condition was "bad" would be a massive understatement.
Her life force was dangerously low, and her body was already on the verge of collapse.
If not for her sheer willpower—and some heavy chemical support—she would've died a long time ago.
.
.
.