[Save that child.]
When the god of another world spoke to me, I accepted dryly.
And so…
“…Please grant me a divorce.”
I'd decided to snap the "death flag" that would otherwise get my head lopped off, caught between a future couple destined for nothing but plague and ruin.
Clink.
The only thing filling the Emperor's study was the faint sound of a teacup meeting its saucer. In that suffocating silence, a pair of pale fingertips slid a single document envelope across the table with a soft rustle.
The master of the Arje Empire, Kirian Eckart, narrowed his crimson eyes. Chin propped at a crooked angle, his gaze traced the unusually white, trembling back of the hand gripping the envelope, then fixed on the man standing before him.
Luanisiel Requies. His spouse, whose face he could barely recall, the one who lived as though holding his breath, as good as dead.
It was a strange thing. Ordinarily, wasn't this the man who trembled in terror at the mere brush of his shadow? The one who'd holed himself up in the Empress's palace, drifting through it like a ghost, had suddenly come crawling all the way here on his own two feet. And as if that weren't enough, he had the audacity to thrust a document forward.
“What is this?”
The low, scraping voice rang through the study. A murderous pressure that promised a beheading at any second pricked at the skin. Yet the answer that came back was unsettlingly calm.
“A draft of our divorce agreement, Your Majesty.”
The word slipped out between small, ashen lips without a single syllable slurred, perfectly clean. Kirian snatched the document up roughly, skimmed it, then let out a scoff. Then, almost absentmindedly, he looked the man before him up and down.
A political marriage forced upon him. That epithet alone was grating enough, yet the man standing before him scraped at Kirian's nerves in some particular way.
His fine-boned face was suffocatingly exquisite. The blade-sharp line of his nose and the coolly settled pale-violet eyes carried the unmistakable bloodline of the arrogant nobility. But that was all. That dreadful beauty held no warmth.
Beneath skin so pale it was nearly transparent, it seemed there flowed no red blood but rather a packing of bone-dry kindling. Fingers stretched out so precariously they looked ready to snap at a touch. And with each shallow breath he exhaled, the thin chest rose and fell ever so slightly.
Kirian's gaze settled on that slender ribcage. A man like a taxidermied doll. From those perilous lips that looked ready to shatter into pieces with one rough squeeze, the word "divorce" had just come tumbling out, bold as anything.
“Luanisiel.”
When he called the name of the Empress who still bore the Requies name, the man's lashes curled upward. A figure devoid of any human touch, like watching some clockwork device. Kirian's eyes twisted into a fierce scowl.
“One who serves the god would break a marriage vow as he pleases? Is the faith of House Requies so paper-thin?”
He spat out Luan's name as though chewing it. More than that, it was likely resentment toward the Requies name attached to the end of it. But Luan wasn't startled by Kirian's reaction. It was exactly what he'd expected. The murderous intent prickling at his skin promised a beheading at any moment, but, well, killing intent doesn't actually kill a person.
Luan put on a face that said I'm so terrified I might faint, but I'm barely holding on, and lowered his eyes. Inwardly, he chanted his mantra: Ah, don't flinch. That's just a barking dog. A loud-mouthed complainant.
“Your Majesty, please do not misunderstand.”
He began to recite the content he'd prepared, quiet and composed. His manner was as forlorn as a man making confession, yet the substance was brutally businesslike.
“According to Chapter Four, Verse Twelve of the scriptures… 'To leave mutual suffering unattended is a sin that gnaws away at the soul,' so it is written.”
“…”
“What the god has taught us is love and patience. Nowhere is there a teaching that commands us to forcibly cling to a relationship stained with hatred.”
And besides, the god is busy. Busy enough to dispatch a contract worker to save his favorite. He doesn't have time to be reviewing our divorce paperwork.
As Luan raised a feeble hand to lay it over his chest, Kirian's expression hardened. He could clearly see the body stiffening in fear of him, the way it always did, yet the words coming out of that mouth were oddly logical and coherent. Was it just his imagination that it somehow felt like the man was thinking, I can't even be bothered to say more?
Luan seized the opening, using a thinly trembling finger to point at a portion of the document's third page.
“First, would you review this section…?”
“…”
“The purification procedure under temple law, and… the division of assets along with the negotiation of fault. By Arje legal code, a total cooling-off period of six months would make it possible.”
“…What.”
“In six months, I'll vanish from your sight.”
His body, swaying as though it might collapse any second, leaned against the desk. The empty pale-violet eyes looked up at the Emperor.
“The disgrace of being named the at-fault spouse… I'll take it upon myself. I hope Your Majesty finds your freedom.”
Having finished speaking, Luan closed his mouth and thought to himself. Such a devoted bit of processing. Even I'd be moved enough to consider throwing in some alimony.
But instead of picking up a pen, Kirian fixed him with a cold stare and bored into him. This alien attitude—neither cowering nor pleading—scraped at his nerves all the more.
“…Interesting.”
After a long while, he finally spoke.
“Spouting this nonsense when you can't even hold your own body up properly.”
“It's merely… my loyalty, for Your Majesty's wellbeing.”
“Loyalty.”
He laughed, low. To hear the word "loyalty" from that Requies—it was laughable beyond measure. On the surface he wore an elegant smile, but the veins on the back of the hand braced against the desk stood out. At a sound like a beast growling in its throat, a chill ran down Luan's spine.
“Fine. These six months—let's see what comes of them.”
Success?
“Luanisiel. Let's see just how long you can wear that pitiful mask while coolly working that little calculator of yours.”
…Success? …I think?
At the feeling that some input value had just gone wrong, Luan slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. His long lashes quivered, making him look quite pitiful, but Kirian's red eyes were cold as could be.
It was bewildering. This wasn't the reaction he'd imagined. Normally, in a relationship like this, wasn't the man supposed to stamp the seal and throw him out with a "How laughable, get lost!"? Why was Kirian Eckart's gaze… settling so coldly and tenaciously? He couldn't make sense of it.
The moment Luan staggered out of the study, every trace of amusement vanished from Kirian's face. He stared at the closed door and murmured coldly.
“Luanisiel Requies.”
The presence-less second son of that viper of a House—Requies—a feeble man who couldn't so much as defy a word from his own father had come bearing a bizarre proposal. A spouse in name only, with whom, across five years of marriage, there had been nothing remotely resembling married life.
The only reason he'd accepted the man at all was that he'd lived without ever voicing a single opinion, holding his breath. As though he hadn't the means to withstand even the pressure of House Requies, he'd crammed himself into a corner on his own. Grating, yes, but a decoration there was no particular need to clear away.
“Grating.”
But the man he'd seen today had the legal code memorized down to the article and walked off after rationally saying his piece even in the face of an emperor's pressure. Somewhat tense, perhaps, yet not the sort of man who could speak this clearly before his presence.
“A person can't change overnight.”
If that were so, then his whole reputation until now—the will-less, feeble second son of House Requies—must have been a disguise. Fitting for one who carried the blood of the snake-like Requies. All of it surely a disguise to conceal House Requies's larger scheme.
In that case, even the demand for divorce wouldn't be some baseless whim or proposal. There was definitely something behind it.
“Kael.”
Kirian's eyes glinted like a beast's. He gave a low command to Kael, the escort knight who'd been keeping silent.
“Put him under surveillance.”
“…”
“Every breath, the angle at which he lifts a teacup, even the people he meets. Report all of it.”
A faint, sour smile spread across Kirian's face.
“The true blade that House Requies is hiding… I'll dig it out, every last piece.”
He'd thought the man a will-less puppet, but it seemed he was far more dangerous than expected.
