People call us the Holy Empire.
Honestly, I have no idea why.
Empires are supposed to have things like sprawling territories, overflowing treasuries, armies so large they darken the horizon, a noble class constantly plotting each other's downfall…
We have none of that.
Our "territory" is literally just one city - the capital.
Our resources wouldn't last a month in any other kingdom.
We have no nobles. No vassals. Not even an economy worth bragging about.
So why are we called an empire?
Because of one person.
A single individual capable of turning a doomed battlefield into victory.
A being whose presence alone forces nations to rethink their ambitions.
A monster, some say. A hero, others whisper.
Me.
Maria D'Ange.
Queen of the Holy Land.
Immortal.
Tired.
Very, very tired.
***
Why did my past life memories have to come back now?
That question haunts me every time I feel anoyed, but I don't have the luxury of pondering it. Not today. Not this month. Not this century, probably.
Every minute of my day is scheduled.
Every second is spoken for.
I even have to eat while signing documents. What kind of black company did I reincarnate into?
"Your Majesty, please reconsider!"
Ah. Here we go again.
"I already told you," I say, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in my voice.
"The Kingdom of Eures will receive no support from me or from the Holy Knights. Tell His Royal Highness Mercis to handle his succession issue on his own. And stop bringing me trivial matters every day. Understood?"
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
Clang.
The advisor finally leaves the room.
Seriously, who asks an empire for help when they can't even organize their own throne succession?
Then again… can we even be classified as an empire?
Whatever. If they insist on calling us one, I won't fight it. I'm too busy to care.
"Just one more audience, Your Majesty. Please endure a little longer."
I sigh. Loudly. "Alright… bring them in."
Just endure it, Maria.
Today is the last day of this ridiculous schedule.
Today is the last… the last…
"Your Majesty, Queen Maria D'Ange of the Holy Empire! We, the Kingdom of Apollo, hereby declare war, as reparations for historical offenses committed by the Empire!"
…
"What."
Of course this happens today.
Why wouldn't it?
The messenger clears his throat as if expecting me to erupt in divine fury or unleash holy flames.
I simply nod.
"Alright."
""Huh?""
Why are they looking at me like I've grown two heads? Do they want a speech? A tantrum? A dramatic divine proclamation?
If they're done, they can just leave.
"You have something else to say?" I ask, staring.
"N-no, Your Majesty!"
Good. Shoo.
These political issues are like ants. You crush one, and two more crawl out just to annoy you.
"Tch… Tell your king, Solareon Astor, to be prepared."
My voice comes out colder than intended. Even I feel a chill.
The messengers gulp in unison.
After all that nonsense, I finally - finally - get a moment to myself.
My first break in four months.
It lasts thirty minutes.
Amazing. Truly luxurious.
"This damn world…"
Before I'm inevitably interrupted again, let me explain the situation.
My name is Maria D'Ange, one of the four war heroes recognized by the world.
The Queen of the Holy Land.
Bearer of the so-called divine blessing.
Four hundred years ago, at the age of twenty, I earned the empire's salvation in a great war… and in return received immortality.
Yes, you heard that right - four hundred years.
Do you know what happens when you rule for four centuries?
You get tired.
Utterly, cosmically, spiritually tired.
For the first hundred years, I tried. I genuinely tried to be a responsible ruler.
For the next hundred, I pretended to try.
For the third hundred, I mastered the art of escaping meetings.
And in this fourth century?
I just want to quit.
To make things worse, four months ago, I regained memories of my past life.
In that life, I was an ordinary man in a peaceful world. Yes - man. I still don't understand how I went from that to… this. But the important word is ordinary.
I had no responsibilities outside of work and home.
I miss that so, so, SO much.
"Sigh…"
Four hundred years of pressure.
Four hundred years of expectations.
Four hundred years with no vacation.
Is it any surprise that I want to vanish?
Then it hits me.
Wait.
Can't I just… run away?
An immortal queen disappearing would cause chaos, but if I faked my death, snuck out, changed my appearance-
One problem.
I glance at the mirror.
Snow-white hair that glows faintly in sunlight. Eyes like polished blue crystals. Pale skin untouched by time. A figure that looks sculpted by the gods themselves. And a face so angelic it's suspicious.
That's the problem.
I look like this.
Disappearing won't be easy.
Nothing is easy in this world, for god's sake.
…but I can try, right?
"Hmm… disguise?"
A disguise is probably the simplest option.
If I use magic inside the palace, the security wards will detect it within a week.
If I just run, that would hurt my pride.
I'm tired - exhausted, really - but not enough to abandon my dignity as Queen.
So yes. Disguise it is.
"Let's try it…"
I sneak into the maids' living quarters and rummage through the uniforms.
It takes a moment before I find one that looks remotely my size.
"It's… kind of tight, but that's okay."
Alright. Goodbye, palace.
May we never meet again.
I take one step toward the exit-
"Your Majesty, what are you doing!?"
"!!!"
Why is a maid here at this time!?
"Why are you here?" I ask, panicking and trying to hide my very obvious maid apron.
"P-pardon?"
The maid's face turns bright red.
I blink, confused - until I glance behind her and see the young gardener frozen stiff, clearly borrowing the room for a private meeting.
Ah.
I understand.
"Sorry for interrupting."
I say this as calmly as possible while backing out of the room and quietly returning to my chambers.
"Sigh… I only have five minutes left before I have to go back to that hell."
Is that sacrilegious to say in the Holy Land?
Maybe.
But right now, I do not care.
I'm frustrated.
I know what it's like to live without responsibilities.
I've lived a life where the worst problem was a late train or a forgotten lunch.
But I can't go back - and just remembering that peaceful life makes my chest tighten.
I just want to eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I'm tired, and do whatever I want whenever I want.
Instead, I'm stuck here like a prisoner.
Actually… no. Prisoners get free time every day.
I get one break every six months.
This is bull-
"Your Majesty, it's time."
"Sigh… Fine. Let's go."
No time to complain now…
***
I take one step toward the throne room-one single, miserable step-and already I can feel my soul peeling away from my mortal body like it's trying to escape before I can.
Then-
BANG.
The doors slam open with such violent enthusiasm that even the hinges sound like they're begging for retirement.
"Your Majesty!"
Oh, perfect. That tone. That volume. That flavor of panic.
This is definitely not good news.
A knight stumbles inside, pale, sweating, and clutching a stack of documents thicker than my will to live.
"W-We urgently require your signature on the annual-"
"No," I say instantly. Not even a pause. If I think, I'll hesitate, and I refuse to show weakness.
"But, Your Majesty, without your approval the-"
"No."
I haven't even reached the throne. I haven't even inhaled in the throne's general direction. And this man thinks I'm about to sign paperwork?
He should be arrested for attempted cruelty to royalty.
Before the knight can muster another doomed protest, a shrill voice echoes through the corridor like a banshee blessed by caffeine.
"Her Majesty must hear the prophecy! God has spoken! This is an emergency!"
Fantastic. Wonderful. Absolutely spectacular.
War, paperwork, and now divine intervention.
If a dragon bursts in next, I'm defecting to its side.
Another messenger barrels in so fast he nearly collides with the knight.
"Your Majesty! The Kingdom of Solaris has declared war-in alliance with the Kingdom of Apollo! They claim the Holy Empire has-"
Nope.
That's it.
No more.
I lift a hand.
Everyone halts mid-breath, as if I've just cast a freeze spell fueled entirely by royal exhaustion.
Then, slowly, with the calm of someone whose sanity is dangling by a thread, I say:
"I am taking a break."
Silence.
Glorious, absolute silence.
I continue, enunciating each word like I'm etching them into the foundations of the castle:
"I. Am. Taking. A. Break."
A collective gulp ripples through the room.
No one moves.
Good.
If the gods have objections, they can schedule an appointment, fill out the appropriate forms, and wait three to five business days like everyone else. And maybe I will think about answering.
Maybe.
I turn on my heel, fully prepared to walk away from all of this-war, prophecies, paperwork, hysterical messengers, divine tantrums, and whatever else the universe has decided to dump on my palace carpet today.
For one blissful moment, the corridor stays quiet.
Then someone dares to inhale.
I shoot them a look.
They stop.
I keep walking.
Behind me, I hear the softest whisper:
"D-Does… break mean she's leaving the castle?"
Another voice hisses back, "Shut up unless you want to explode."
Finally, peace.
Or at least that's what I thought at the time.