To Elo, being Emperor was just a job—a profession, not his life.

  So, what was Elo’s daily life really like?

  The answer was simple—the life of a homebody.

  He loved staying indoors, reading novels, watching anime, movies, listening to music, and playing games.

  In the past thirty years of his life, whenever he had a day off or a holiday, he had always avoided going outside.

  Even so, he still accompanied Vian on shopping trips, picking up household essentials and stocking up on a week's worth of groceries.

  Occasionally, they would indulge in a restaurant meal, spending forty or fifty dollars to enjoy a nice dinner.

  But those days were now nothing more than memories.

  With the empire now under a rationing system, there were no supermarkets or restaurants—everyone had to dine in public canteens.

  As Emperor, Elo naturally had no need to concern himself with everyday trivialities.

  If he had no official duties for the day, he could even stay in his bedroom the entire time.

  But this wasn’t because he had a vast team of palace attendants—it was because his mother and Vian had taken over the household chores.

  And Elo had his own share of responsibilities, too—such as washing the dishes after meals and cleaning up.

  The Emperor doing the dishes? The Emperor cleaning the house?

  It might sound absurd, but this was just everyday life for Elo’s family.

  The so-called "Imperial Palace"—Ark Cottage—was, in reality, nothing more than a 600㎡ residence.

  The main residence, where Elo and his family lived, was a modest two-story villa, accounting for 120㎡ of the total space.

  The 200㎡ courtyard was divided into a front yard, backyard, and side garden—far from luxurious, but tranquil and comfortable.

  Surrounding the main residence were auxiliary buildings such as a security post, storage room, and garage, adding up to about 100㎡.

  Including the outer security perimeter, the entire estate barely reached 600㎡ in total area.

  It was far from luxurious or grand—more like a carefully arranged private estate.

  The so-called 'Imperial Guards' numbered only 18 in reality.

  Before Elo's awakening, the palace had far more than 18 guards, maintaining an almost rigid security system.

  However, after his awakening, the guard force was significantly downsized at his will.

  In truth, if possible, Elo would have preferred to cut the number down to single digits.

  But in the end, he abandoned the idea.

  He knew all too well the misery of being overworked, and if there was one thing he despised most—it was overtime.

  As a former corporate drone, Elo had endured endless hours of overwork, sometimes going weeks without a proper break.

  What he longed for was a near-ideal balance between work and life:

  —8 hours of work, 8 hours of leisure, 8 hours of rest.

  —2 days off per week, with all public holidays observed as scheduled.

  It was precisely for this reason that he reluctantly accepted the presence of 18 Imperial Guards.

  This was not just Elo’s will—it was his unwavering obsession with a "normal life."

  So, where did the government stand on the matter of downsizing the Imperial Guards?

  There was no doubt about it—they were strongly opposed.

  They knew all too well that once a system was established, it was highly likely to become a long-standing convention, difficult to overturn.

  More importantly, many people longed for the honor of serving near the Emperor, Even standing guard was considered a supreme privilege.

  For that reason, no one wanted to see the Imperial Guard reduced in size.

  Yet, despite their reluctance, the government had no choice but to comply with the Emperor’s will.

  Why? The Answer Was Simple.

  Two key factors determined the outcome:

  1. The Stance of the Grand Princess and the Empress Dowager

  It wasn’t just Elo—the Grand Princess and the Empress Dowager also believed that the palace did not need so many guards.

  With the core members of the royal family in full agreement, the cabinet and parliament had no choice but to unconditionally carry out the royal decree.

  2. The Government Was Never Responsible for the Royal Family’s Security

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  The safety of the royal family had always been under the absolute control of Alaya—never the government.

  Within Ark Little World, Alaya could detect even the faintest flicker of malicious intent the moment it emerged in someone’s mind.

  If the royal family’s safety could not be guaranteed under Alaya’s protection, then no number of guards would make a difference.

  From the very beginning, the Imperial Guards were never meant to protect the royal family—

  their role was purely ceremonial and symbolic.

  Their existence was more of a gesture of respect from the government to the royal family, rather than a practical security force.

  So, in the past five years, has anyone ever harbored malice toward the royal family?

  Elo had been curious about this and had once secretly asked Alaya.

  Alaya had given him a simple answer:

  —No.

  In the past five years, not a single citizen had harbored any malice toward the royal family.

  And now, that possibility was even closer to zero.

  After all, everyone was well aware of the Emperor's thoughts and understood his value to the Empire.

  After knowing all this, who but a madman would be foolish enough to oppose the Emperor?

  In short, the staffing of the palace was so minimal that it was almost frugal—besides the 17 Imperial Guards, there was no one else.

  No butlers, no secretaries, no maids, no attendants, no chefs, and no royal physicians.

  Of course, in a certain sense, it wasn’t entirely without a butler, or secretary.

  Elo’s so-called “butler” was the Prime Minister.

  Though he was the head of the government, he also served as the Royal Minister of Internal Affairs.

  One of the responsibilities of this position was managing royal affairs, so calling him a "butler" wasn’t entirely inappropriate.

  As for the responsibilities of the Royal Secretary, they were shared among the 6 Cabinet Ministers.

  As for maids, attendants, chefs, and royal physicians—such positions simply did not exist.

  Long ago, the cabinet had proposed expanding the palace and increasing the number of palace staff, but the Empress Dowager and the Grand Princess had never agreed.

  "If the house is too big, it won’t feel like home."

  "We can handle the household chores ourselves; we don’t need so many people waiting on us."

  That was the reasoning they had given.

  Now, with Elo awake, the proposal was even less likely to pass.

  Because—Elo had never seen himself as a true Emperor.

  To him, being Emperor was just a job, not his entire life.

  His logic was simple:

  When I’m on duty, I’m the Emperor.

  When I’m off duty, I’m just Elo.

  Work is work. Life is life. The two must never be mixed.

  A lavish palace life?

  Neither Elo nor his family had any interest in such things—they were already perfectly content with the life they had.

  Elo’s former dream had been simple—to buy a home and live a peaceful life with his family.

  Now, that dream had become a reality.

  He had once dreamed of achieving financial freedom—of having the choice to work or not.

  And now, that dream had come true as well.

  Although they had no extravagant demands for life, if there was one regret, it would undoubtedly be—food.

  Many people knew that Elo’s family had an undeniable love for fine cuisine.

  However, while his mother and Vian could manage simple home-cooked meals, their cooking skills extended no further.

  As for Elo himself?

  His cooking… could make people question their very existence.

  To Elo and his family, culinary skills were never something that could be changed through effort or talent—it was simply fate.

  Because of this, Elo had never even considered hiring a chef.

  Some things were simply preordained.

  In fact, judging by Elo’s daily routine, it seemed as if there was no real need for a chef in the palace at all.

  Alaya frequently served exquisite dishes, desserts, and fresh fruits, while the cabinet ministers often presented carefully prepared delicacies of their own.

  In such an environment, there was never a need to cook in order to enjoy fine cuisine.

  For Alaya and the Imperial Government, such expenses were insignificant.

  but in doing so, they subtly reinforced the trust between the royal family and the state.

  Strictly speaking, Transcendent Beings actually do not need to eat.

  Their bodies possess far more efficient energy absorption mechanisms than ordinary humans, making eating more of a pleasure rather than a necessity for survival.

  However, unfortunately—[System Users] do not enjoy this convenience.

  The system mandates that they must eat; otherwise, they will experience thirst and hunger just like normal humans.

  This is precisely why, even though the Empire has achieved 'Life Sharing,' agriculture remains indispensable.

  After all—without food or water, one would still die.

  Even if resurrection is possible, the experience of dying from hunger or thirst remains an unbearable torment.

  What About Excretion?

  Transcendent Beings do not need to use the restroom either.

  Their bodies can directly break down and convert waste matter, eliminating the need for traditional excretion.

  However, unlike eating, the system does not force [System Users] to use the restroom.

  In short, Elo never intended for his home to become a cold and lifeless palace.

  He did not need hundreds of servants waiting on him.

  He did not need tedious and lengthy court rituals.

  And he certainly did not need a palace filled with nothing but reverence and distance.

  What he wanted was simple—a warm home, a place where he could truly rest.

  As for work, although Elo's identity is that of the emperor and the government arranges various official duties for him, this does not mean he will accept everything without question.

  To him, many state affairs were completely unnecessary, such as—

  Those grand banquets where form mattered more than substance.

  And—

  The one thing he found the most troublesome of all—his own coronation.

  "Is this really necessary?"

  The day this matter was officially put on the agenda, Elo furrowed his brows, his voice laced with dissatisfaction:

  "Is this really necessary? Don't you find this troublesome? Even if you don't, I sure do."

  Yet, even as he complained, he knew—the coronation was of paramount importance to the Empire.

  To the citizens of the Empire, the Imperial Constitution was not merely a legal document;

  it was something akin to a sacred covenant between gods and men.

  Likewise, the coronation was not just a grand ceremony—

  it was the very foundation of the Empire's legitimacy.

  If the people were forced to choose between the coronation and the constitution,

  the majority would choose the coronation without hesitation.

  And the reason was simple—

  A coronation could replace a constitution, but a constitution could never replace a coronation.

  For the Empire, this was not the divine right of kings.

  Rather, it was a proclamation from the divine itself—

  A god descending upon the world, choosing humanity as its people.

  It was because of this coronation that the Empire’s legitimacy became undeniable—

  eternal, sacred, supreme, and immutable.

  Throughout all of human history, no ceremony had ever been able to compare to the coronation.

  Its influence did not span just one generation, but countless generations across millennia.

  So, if the government insisted, Elo knew he would ultimately accept this "nuisance".

  He understood—the coronation truly mattered.

  He complained simply because he found it troublesome.

  Some things simply had to be done, but—was he not even allowed to complain a little?

  However, the government did not insist.

  When Elo voiced his reluctance, the Prime Minister didn’t press the matter—he didn’t even make a token attempt to persuade him.

  This was highly unusual.

  Elo fixed his gaze on the Prime Minister, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

  "Aren't you going to try and persuade me? Who knows, I might just listen to you."

  The Prime Minister replied with a smile,

  "We want the coronation to be as perfect as possible, so we are willing to wait patiently.

  Of course, if you’re willing to hold two coronation ceremonies, the people would be overjoyed."

  Elo immediately caught the implicit message, and though he wasn't exactly pleased, he responded coolly:

  "We’ll talk about it some other time."

  "As you will, Your Majesty."