When he opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was the dreadful medicinal smell stabbing at his nose.
“Ugggh…”
Luan grimaced and lifted his heavy eyelids. His head was groggy and his whole body ached, but perhaps thanks to having slept yesterday as if he'd fainted, his mind was a good deal clearer. The groggy head now seemed to be because of this smell, a mix of all sorts of things.
He went to rise out of habit, then couldn't close his mouth at the sight before him.
“…What is all this?”
He was sure there hadn't been anything like this when he fell asleep. Half the space of the bedchamber—which was nothing but obnoxiously spacious—was packed wall-to-wall with wooden crates, leaving no room to set a foot. The high-grade silk and gold-leaf labels poking out from inside the crates gave an ominous feeling, and judging by the sheer number, they were like crates from some looted logistics warehouse.
“You're up.”
Kirian, who'd been reviewing documents seated by the window, approached. Why does this man keep appearing from over there? No matter that the door's unlocked, isn't it a problem to invade all the way into my room? But right now there was something he was more curious about. Luan pointed at the tower of crates with a blank face.
“Your Majesty. Did you, by chance, run out of palace storehouse space while I wasn't aware and stack your luggage here?”
To the perfectly natural question, Kirian answered perfectly naturally.
“It's medicine.”
It's for you to eat. At that confident expression, Luan's face went even blanker.
“Pardon?”
“For now, I've procured everything said to be good for the body. I swept up everything said to be good for the lungs, the blood vessels, and recovering one's strength.”
…Why?
“There's some grown in the elves' forest, and an elixir cultivated personally by the Tower Master. There were things called miracle medicines in the East, so I had those prepared too. There won't be anything we don't have.”
Kirian spoke indifferently and turned a page of his documents, but at the tail of that voice clung a peculiar self-congratulation.
The reality was that yesterday, after Luan had staggered as if to collapse, brushed it off as anemia, and fallen asleep, the man had impulsively given the order. The moment he'd said money was no object, bring everything good for the body, this much had been arranged within a single day. Of course, to Luan's eyes this was just what a mountainous headache…
“…Ha.”
Luan dragged a hand down his face. Far from being moved, the back of his neck stiffened.
“Your Majesty. Did I not clearly tell you yesterday. Not to make a fuss.”
“Fuss, nothing. It's just a measure.”
He talks well for someone who looks gravely ill.
“You said it was anemia. You said it's because you can't eat. If so, then eat.”
“This isn't a measure, it's waste.”
Luan got down from the bed and tapped one crate stacked higher than his own height.
“Just one of these is more than a month's food expenses for the soldiers.”
And so? Kirian's eyebrow rose.
“I went to all the trouble of saving the budget while getting cursed at, and if Your Majesty squanders it like this, what does that make me?”
“Is that paltry money more important than your body?”
“Of course. Money is national strength and results.”
At Luan's firm reply, Kirian's eyebrow twitched again. He didn't like the attitude of treating his own wellbeing like a tool for the sake of an Empress's duties.
“Who told you to work that foolishly hard?”
Kirian clicked his tongue. Then he held out a drink of a tremendous color—probably medicine.
“Drink. You can't leave this room until you've drunk it all.”
“No thank you.”
“What?”
“I know my own body best. Drinking something like this won't cure it.”
Kirian bit his lip hard. The resigned-sounding tone was strangely grating. The blood droplets that had fallen to the floor, dot by dot, came to mind.
“Then what do you intend to do? Collapse again while working and starving?”
“I won't die.”
When he said it firmly, Kirian's eyes turned terrifying. This time even Luan flinched and quietly added more.
“It's just… I have an unusual constitution, that's all.”
Is it because of that unusual constitution that he vomits blood? He'd had him examined while he slept like the dead, but they'd said there was no particular abnormality. Yet considering what he'd witnessed, "no abnormality" was all the more unbelievable.
Luan waved his hand as if it were a bother.
“Please take it away. The smell is making my head hurt more.”
Kirian was dumbfounded. The man was refusing the medicine he'd bestowed, saying it smelled. Normally a person should be weeping with gratitude, yet this one talked back at every turn.
Was he always this kind of personality? Even trying to recall since when he'd been like this, he knew nothing, so there was nothing he could say. The only thing that came to mind was the expression full of despair he'd seen at the wedding.
But strangely, he wasn't angry. If anything, the sensitive sight of him furrowing his brow at a mere smell, the pale cheek, kept catching his eye and only irritated him.
How bad does your body have to be to find even the smell of medicine revolting?
It did give off a strong smell, but not to that degree.
“Stubborn thing.”
In the end, Kirian called the chamberlain as if conceding.
“Take it all away. Leave only the ones made into pills, the ones without a smell.”
With the command, the attendants began moving frantically. Luan marveled. There was a reason I didn't wake from sleep while those crates were being stacked. How is it possible to move that many things this quietly? The pros really are different.
When the room was tidied, Kirian dragged a chair beside Luan's bed, plopped down, and propped his chin on his hand.
“Why did you do it?”
At Kirian's out-of-nowhere question, Luan tilted his head.
“Do what?”
“Harkan. That man's a beast. The kind that's awkward to provoke.”
Though his final form was more like a cat than a beast.
“So why did you, with a body that isn't even sound, step forward and scratch at that man's temper?”
Kirian's gaze bored in deep.
“Was it simply for the budget? Or… was it for me?”
He couldn't help but think about it while Luan was passed out. To crush the spirit of the Northern Knights' Order that threatens imperial authority, did he drag his ailing body, take the lead, and volunteer to play the villain? No matter how he thought about it, no fitting reason came to mind.
Kirian was secretly curious. They'd lived for five years as a relationship worse than strangers. What was the reason a man who'd lived hushed as if that were a matter of course was suddenly going this far?
Luan looked at the Emperor with a blank expression. A shiver ran across his skin. For me? What kind of third-rate romance-novel nonsense is that? Ah, of course, the original was like that, but at least its partner wasn't him.
“Your Majesty.”
Luan answered, his face going serious.
“I didn't step forward for Your Majesty's sake.”
It was a firm expression that said don't get the wrong idea.
“Then?”
“Because it's my job.”
Luan began to lay out his words dryly.
“I have no intention of evading the responsibility that comes with holding the Empress's seal. Nor any intention of giving up my duties and rights, nor any intention of committing dereliction by just covering up a hole in the ledger.”
And he added, as if driving in a nail.
“Shouldn't I do my best for the remaining half-year?”
This time it was Kirian who flinched.
“…What?”
“The divorce cooling-off period, I mean. Exactly half a month has passed now.”
Luan began counting on his fingers. The unbothered attitude somehow twisted at Kirian's insides.
“For the past five years I couldn't look after things properly, but I'd like to wrap up the final half-year perfectly.”
“…”
“Only then will there be no talk later when we become legal strangers.”
Five years. And half a month.
That difference in time scraped at Kirian's nerves. For five years the man had lived there and yet not there, and in a mere half-month he behaved perfectly, as if he'd become a different person. Just… like a man who'd finished his preparations to leave.
Kirian's brow furrowed. One corner of his chest felt stuffed up, suffocating.
It was unpleasant.
He didn't know why it was unpleasant, but he didn't like that plain, matter-of-fact attitude.
“That's the only reason?”
Kirian asked, looking askance.
“What do you mean, 'only.' It's an important matter. No matter that I'll become the at-fault spouse, I should at least properly…”
“Enough.”
Kirian cut him off. To hide his unpleasant feelings, he deliberately wore an even more cynical expression. Every single thing the man said was displeasing.
“The Empress is laboring under some misunderstanding.”
“Pardon?”
“Do you think an imperial divorce is so simple? You should know well.”
Kirian spoke with his arms crossed. He converted this inexplicable irritation into a practical reason.
“It requires the Senate's approval and a justification both internal and external. And the Empress is wasting away to skin and bones, collapsing all over the place? That'll start proper rumors.”
“…”
“They'll prattle that the Emperor abused the Empress and drove him out. Divorce or not, it's a matter that chips away at the imperial family's face.”
“Ah…”
Only then did Luan understand and nod. I almost got the wrong idea. As expected, it wasn't out of worry for me but because of the Emperor's own reputation. He answered crisply.
“Understood. For the sake of Your Majesty's face, I'll manage my health.”
“Yes. That's your duty.”
Kirian rose from his seat. But his mood didn't improve. Even the sight of the man answering "understood" so obediently was grating. As if it were I'll do as I'm told, so just break up with me on time.
“And.”
Kirian, about to leave, stopped short. Gripping the door handle, without even turning back, he tossed out a single line.
“Don't count the days so much.”
“Pardon?”
“It's grating.”
At the coldly sunken voice, as Luan blankly answered “Pardon?” again, Kirian slammed the door and left.
Click.
For the first time in a long while, beyond the locked door, Kirian roughly swept back his hair.
“…Damn it.”
His insides churned. What in the world is this feeling?
Grating.
Yes, it's grating. I don't like the way the thing that's been by my side for five years sets a deadline on its own and frets about leaving. Isn't it the sort of thing that wounds an emperor's pride?
It's absolutely not because I'll miss it.
Kirian repeated that to himself as he moved his steps. But his footsteps were strangely heavy. The fact that some scrap of paper, divorce agreement or whatever it was, had a validity period ticking away—why it bothered him this much, he couldn't make sense of at all.
Meanwhile, Luan, left in the room, stared at the closed door with a flabbergasted expression. Him closing the door for me is a relief, at least.
“…What's with that guy? Why's he suddenly seizing on a pretext?”
Is he threatening me to cut down the alimony? There's no need to give me much anyway, so why's he like that? As expected of an emperor, maybe he was just born to throw his weight around.
“Ha, I'm tired.”
Luan flopped down onto the bed. There's no tyrannical employer like this tyrannical employer. He should be grateful to get to put a top-tier talent like me to use. Weariness washed back in and he closed his eyes.
“Let's hurry and get better. Giving him no pretext to seize on is best, after all.”
Only half a month off from his goal of half a year. Luan, counting the days in his head, still didn't know. That the Emperor's unconscious obsession—trying to bar that path home—was sprouting.
