The palace annex. The Family Restoration Counseling Room.
Pastel wallpaper, a plush goose-down sofa, even a lavender scented candle wafting gently from the table. Everything was a space perfectly calculated for the emotional stability of a married couple. And yet the air actually flowing through it was eerily still.
“Um… the two of you?”
Benya, a novice priest fresh out of theological college and assigned here, swallowed dryly and readjusted his grip on his quill pen. Across from him sat the Emperor, the empire's sun, Kirian Eckart, and beside the Emperor sat Empress Luanisiel Requies, motionless as a wax doll.
That a chick of a priest had been handed the counseling of these two enormous beings was the result of one tremendous game of pass-the-bomb. No one wanted to conduct the divorce counseling of the empire's sun and moon. And so Benya—who, among the rookie priests, had both good grades and a thick skin—had been chosen. Of course, that wasn't the only reason.
Naturally, Benya had walked into the counseling room tense to the bone. Since the Emperor and Empress had been made husband and wife by divine power before the god, the temple's involvement was required not only for divorce but also when a couple's relationship had soured. There was the minor issue that this counseling room was being used again for the first time in some thirty-odd years, but still.
If there was one fortunate thing, it was that the Emperor's attitude was, surprisingly, cooperative. More so than the Empress, who slumped like a straw doll soaked through with water.
“Per counseling procedure, I'll need to ask some questions. Please answer at ease.”
“I will. At ease.”
Kirian answered low, chin propped on his hand. But his gaze was fixed not on the priest but on the side of Luan's face beside him. It was a persistent, dogged stare, as though observing a specimen in a laboratory.
“Then… the first question. Do the two of you converse often, ordinarily?”
“No.”
Luan's lips parted the instant the question ended. A firm, dry answer.
“I can't even remember the last time we had a private conversation. His Majesty is busy, and I stay only… in the Empress's palace.”
Luan stared blankly at the burning candle flame and added in a soulless voice.
“We spend more time sharing silence than hearing each other's voices.”
So hurry up and check the boxes for communication breakdown, irreparable. Luan shouted inwardly.
At an answer so mechanical, Benya flinched and stole a glance at Kirian. It was a moment when the Emperor's rebuttal wouldn't have been odd at all… but Kirian only kept boring into Luan.
Not even blinking once.
Kirian clicked his tongue inwardly. He'd sensed it ever since the divorce papers were thrust at him yesterday, but that dry attitude was airtight. Even with Kirian giving him such a blatant stare, the man didn't flush a single cheek or avert his gaze even once. Not even a flicker of discomfort.
Did House Requies train him to kill off his emotions?
Kirian heightened the intensity of his observation, determined not to miss a single one of Luanisiel's minute changes of expression, not a single tremor of a finger. But in Benya's eyes, the sight registered as something entirely different.
Good heavens… His Majesty can't take his eyes off the Empress.
The Emperor was hanging on the Empress's every word. That piercing gaze was impossible without genuine interest in the other person. Scratch, scratch. The quill moved busily.
“Then… the next question. Could you each name just one of the other's good points?”
“He's alive.”
This time too, Luan answered without a second's hesitation.
“A fortunate thing for the empire's wellbeing. He's healthy, and sturdy.”
That's all. It was a dry tone that left you unsure whether it was praise or sarcasm. Benya was flustered. But the content was clearly praise. And then, at that moment, Kirian—who had kept his silence—opened his mouth.
“I agree.”
“…Pardon?”
“I think I know the Empress's good point too.”
Without taking his eyes off Luanisiel for even a moment, Kirian curled the corner of his mouth into a sour smile.
“He's quite composed. He never loses his equilibrium in any situation. So much so that it's… interestingly so.”
He'd thrown the line out half-hoping for at least some fluster. But Luan merely nodded, indifferent.
“You flatter me. It's no more than a virtue befitting an Empress.”
A perfect wall. Kirian's eyes narrowed. Meanwhile Luan was busy wondering when this counseling would end so he could get back to bed.
“In that case, what led you to decide on divorce?”
This was the most important crux. At Benya's words, Kirian answered simply.
“Differences in personality.”
“Inefficien— differences in personality.”
There had clearly been a grating word in front of that. Kirian's gaze turned frosty. Benya's quill was still moving fast.
“Is there something you think, 'If only this one thing were fixed, we could live together'?”
It was a pointless question that didn't require a moment's thought. Unlike the other questions, where answers had come straight back, this time a long silence settled in. When Kirian gave no answer, Luan, as if there were no helping it, replied.
“There isn't.”
Benya's eyes sparkled. Unexpectedly… perhaps the Empress finds everything about the Emperor to his liking. Of course, Luan was actually thinking you don't repair people, returns are the answer.
“Thank you for cooperating. Then, this is the last one.”
Was this long, long counseling finally coming to an end? As the first step toward a flawless divorce, the temple-dispatched priest's counseling needed to yield a verdict of irreparable, so Luan endured the passing time staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Please hold hands and look into each other's eyes for ten seconds.”
“…?”
“…What?”
“A stage of communication is necessary. It's a mandatory procedure—without it, the counseling can't be concluded.”
Is the counseling getting extended or something? In Luan's head, a siren blared. Wee-woo, wee-woo. To a worn-down office worker, the words "you can't clock out" are cruel.
Without hesitation, Luan reached out and laid his hand over the back of Kirian's hand resting on the table. Tap. A dry contact.
“…!”
Kirian looked down at Luan's hand with a strange expression. It was merely set on top of his, yet it was an eerily lifeless, cold hand. Kirian felt a peculiarity.
One. Two. Three…
Luan wasn't looking at him either. He merely stared blankly at Benya's clock and counted in his head.
Ten.
When ten seconds passed, Luan withdrew his hand precisely on the mark and leaned his back against the chair. A perfectly businesslike bit of physical contact, without a shred of lingering or regret. Kirian slowly rubbed the back of his own hand with his thumb and glared at Luan with an unreadable expression.
And in that moment too, Benya's quill was moving fast.
“The counseling… is all finished.”
After an hour-odd of suffocating Q&A, the priest Benya set down his quill. Luan let out an inward sigh of relief.
He'd kept every answer to a single curt phrase. He'd kept his relationship with the Emperor consistent with words that could be read only as "labor," "duty," "indifference." By anyone's measure, it was a broken relationship. Now he'd just get the verdict of irreparable, walk out of this dreadful counseling room, and be done with it.
“The results have been written up immediately. Here…”
Benya held out the document politely with both hands. Without a trace of reluctance, Luan rose from his seat and received the results sheet with a dry hand.
“Thank you for your hard work. Now, if you'll fill out the confirmation of divorce as per procedure…”
But before he could finish the sentence, Luan's indifferent eyes trembled as though struck by an earthquake. Doubting his own eyes, he checked the results sheet again. It was Benya's overall assessment.
[Overall Assessment]
Counselee 1 (Empress): Highly bashful, conceals true feelings and defends affection through a cynical demeanor.
Counselee 2 (Emperor): Observes the Empress's every move, displaying deep interest.
Conclusion: Counselees 1 and 2 are deeply conscious of one another but appear to have lacked an occasion to face each other, and this circumstance appears to have led to the decision to divorce. The fundamentally high level of interest in each other is a positive sign. Per the counselor's observation, the likelihood of relationship restoration through external intervention is very high.
“…What is this?”
For the first time, a voice tinged with bewilderment escaped Luan's mouth. But Benya smiled brightly and drove the nail in. Did he eat his common sense for breakfast?
“Congratulations! The two of you have been diagnosed with a 'very high' likelihood of restoration. Although you've come to this decision, since you can sufficiently restore your relationship with intervention, Temple Law Article Seven, Clause Three applies.”
“…Article Seven, Clause Three?”
“It's the clause requiring that during the six-month divorce cooling-off period, you must undergo regular counseling once each month! Until your love blazes anew, I'll help you to the very end!”
Luan was at a loss for words. Of course, counseling being added during the cooling-off period didn't mean anything went wrong with the divorce process itself. But he had to do this… once a month, for six months?
“Brother, I think there's been some mistake…”
Luan suppressed the urge to grab the back of his neck. Are that priest's eyes made of glass? How on earth does this look like love? Just then, a long shadow fell across him from the side.
“Let me see.”
Kirian snatched the results sheet from Luan's hand. As his eyes ran down the contents, the corner of his mouth twisted strangely.
Interesting.
He'd been about to sneer at the priest's stupidity—then stopped. These results weren't bad.
No. If anything, they were perfect. To uncover House Requies's scheme, he needed a pretext to keep the Empress bound to him. And here the temple was, fastening the shackle for him of its own accord.
“It was Priest Benya, was it?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“I'm quite fond of this prescription. 'Monthly regular counseling.'”
Kirian fluttered the results sheet and turned to look back at Luan. His face appeared serene, but his eyes had already died, yearning to clock out.
“Did you hear, Empress? The temple's will is such.”
“Your Majesty. This is plainly the brother's misdiagnosis. I request a retrial.”
“For one who serves the god to deny a priest's verdict—how lacking in faith.”
Kirian cut Luan's words clean off and stepped one pace closer. At his domineering presence, Luan instinctively stepped back.
“Since the results came out this way, we can't ignore them. For the next six months, you'll attend without fail, once a month.”
“…Ha.”
Luan let out a small sigh in spite of himself. It was a sigh heavy with the deep exasperation of an office worker, deep enough to make him forget he was before the Emperor. But Kirian didn't miss that reaction.
“And.”
Kirian's eyes gleamed coldly.
“We'll have to report 'progress in the relationship' a month from now, and in this current state of separation, we'd have nothing to say.”
“…What do you intend to do?”
“The Empress's palace is too far.”
Like a beast driving its prey into a corner, he declared in a low voice.
“Starting today, move your residence to the main palace. You'll need to be where my eyes can reach.”
“…!”
“That way we'll… have something to talk about at the next counseling session, won't we?”
For the first time, plain dismay flickered across Luan's once-indifferent face. Far from getting to lie down in bed, he was about to walk straight into the tiger's den on his own two feet.
“I'll give you time to pack. Be in the main palace by evening.”
Leaving the frozen Empress where he stood, Kirian strolled leisurely out of the counseling room, results sheet in hand. As Luan stood there dazed, Benya gathered his things, headed out, and chirped a lively farewell.
“Then I'll see you again in four weeks!”
Benya's bright voice rang through the empty counseling room. See you again in four weeks. To Luan's ears, those words sounded like a curse—let's meet again in hell, four weeks from now.
…I'm done for. Truly.
