My best friend and I both entered into the ancient adage of Machiavellianism.
The best friend is a neglected harem concubine. In the original novel, she and her son cannot escape death.
In order to rewrite the fate of death, we conspired to put him on the throne.
The system assigned me a task: defeat him, and if my favorability reaches 100, I can return to reality.
The young man looked calm and calm, but deep down he was paranoid and tolerant.
While I was maneuvering around the court, I was trying to gain his favor.
But as the good feelings approached the full value step by step, I gradually couldn't tell the difference.
Whether he cares about me is task feedback or possession from the bottom of his heart.
