“Isn't this a bit much?”
Luan leaned his back against the bed's headboard and heaved a deep sigh. And no wonder—Kirian, who'd seemed irritated about something, had soon, as if it were nothing, begun setting up camp in Luan's room. The goldfish droppings trailing after him were a bonus.
That the escort knight Kael came tagging along because the Emperor was here, I understand. But why on earth is the guy who's the Northern Knights' commander here? Of course, if the first two had been occupying the place for three days now for reasons unknown, then he was a relative newcomer. But the eyes staring fixedly at the bed were each and every one a burden beyond measure. Since when did I become a criminal?
“What is?”
Kirian asked indifferently, peeling an apple. The cognitive dissonance of him peeling apple skin with a beautiful dagger that plainly looked like no ordinary thing. Besides, whatever his skill with a blade, more than half the apple flesh had been shaved off, raising the suspicion that maybe the shape he was going for was a square.
“Am I a criminal?”
Why won't you let me go to the study, confiscate all my documents, and have knights guarding outside so not even an ant can slip through? When he said it irritably, Kirian answered as if it were obvious.
“Because you're a patient.”
“It seems closer to treating me like a criminal, though.”
Kirian didn't answer. He merely got irritated that the apple peel wasn't turning into a rabbit-ear shape. There was no hope of getting an answer from that side. Luan turned his head.
“And, Sir Harkan.”
Luan's sharp gaze turned to the giant of a man standing behind Kirian. Harkan. He'd vanished shedding tears after that incident a few days ago, then finished the audit and returned in the meantime. That much was fine. But.
“That quill, hand it over. I have approvals left to do.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
“The tip of a quill is sharp.”
If you so much as prick a finger, you could get tetanus. At the sight of him saying it with a grave expression, Luan was lost for words.
“…It's been disinfected.”
“Even so, no.”
“…Fine. Be that as it may. Then why are you blocking the approval documents with your body?”
“Paper is dangerous.”
“Paper is…?”
“There's a possibility the imperial person could be injured on the edge.”
Harkan glared. As if, should such a thing happen, he'd commit seppuku on the spot. Wasn't this the beast that was growling at the news of a budget cut a few days ago? What's this fussy overprotection?
The reason eluded him, but this avenue was a dead end too. Then I should at least clear away something else that's grating. This time he looked toward the window.
“Sir Kael. And why are you hanging off the window frame?”
This time he could see Kael with only his eyes poking out through a gap in the window, scanning his surroundings. I'm slowly losing it.
“I'm on full perimeter watch in preparation for any possible danger.”
“…This is the fifth floor. And because of the barrier, not even a fly can get in.”
“If not an assassin, then I must beware even bird droppings. I cannot allow dust to enter your respiratory tract.”
Luan pressed hard on his throbbing temple. I'm losing it. Did they all take the wrong medicine as a group? It seemed he shouldn't have said to take all that medicine away after all. I should've made these guys choke it down.
To top it off, even his physical condition was at its worst. Because of that damned expiring detox, things had only gotten harder. Thanks to having learned what the flying-high state felt like, going back to the original state made him feel like dying.
As the divine power filled up again, his body was heavy as cotton soaked in water. His insides churned and a low fever persisted. But even so, he couldn't stay tied to this bed just breathing. No matter that he'd said he'd be the at-fault spouse, there was a limit. For a clean divorce, he mustn't give any pretext. I can't stand to watch the alimony get cut.
“Move aside. I'm going to the study.”
There's a lot to do. He had to finish up the budget proposal and look at the audit report Harkan said he'd brought. Luan kicked off the blanket and went to rise.
“Lie down.”
Kirian's voice sank low. At the same time, Harkan blocked the front of the bed like a human defensive wall. With an unwanted wall of massive muscle blocking his view, it was suffocating beyond measure. He was so dumbfounded no words came out.
“Your Majesty. Work is my right and my duty. Blocking it is an overreach of authori—”
“Your duty is to rest.”
“Even resting has its limits, doesn't it.”
Luan flared up. If I don't hurry and knock out those crappy reports, I feel like I'll collapse again from the frustration of it.
“Does it make sense to do nothing and just breathe? Am I some vegetable?”
Kirian set the apple he'd been peeling—now nearly nothing but the core—down on a plate and looked Luan straight in the eye. His red eyes gleamed bleakly.
“Yes. Do nothing.”
“…”
“Don't lift a single finger, don't think, don't use your head. Just lie there and breathe. That's an order.”
Kirian's tone was firm. At the words that no further objection would be permitted, Luan shut his mouth. He could neither beat that pigheaded man by force nor had he the energy to persuade him with words. And since it was the Emperor's order, no less, defying it was lèse-majesté too.
“Ha…”
Luan feebly buried his head in the pillow. Irritation surged up. But I have to work.
…Do I have to?
But thinking it over carefully, something was off.
Wait.
In Luan's head, the calculator began to run. Is the Emperor's order really so unreasonable?
Don't work. That's pure honey.
Just lie there. The very thing I've been longing for. But didn't this mean all the rights and treatment as Empress—the bedchamber, the meals, the attendants—would be maintained?
Luan's eyes took on a peculiar glint.
Huh?
Come to think of it, there was nothing bad about this. No, if anything, it was good.
The divorce agreement had been submitted anyway, and the cooling-off period was ticking away. Dragging his ailing body and working himself to the bone, or taking sick leave and convalescing in luxury, divorcing half a year later was the same either way. If anything, wasn't it more advantageous to live high without working, drawing the dignity-maintenance allowance, and then leave?
His heart began to pound. Because of his reflexive, work-focused personality, a legendary word he'd never once managed came to mind.
This is… milking the clock?
The word alone was beautiful. It seemed like something close to paid sick leave, but even better than that. Luan cheered inwardly.
If this isn't a rich layabout, then what is it?
He could get an early taste of the rich-layabout life the god had promised. And the Emperor had even given the order, so the justification was perfect too. If anyone presses me later about why I didn't work, I just say "His Majesty told me to."
Pure honey.
He forcibly held back the smile creeping over his lips. He mustn't let it show on the outside. Going by the Emperor's personality as he'd grasped it so far, the man would, like a contrarian, throw up obstacles again if he saw Luan was pleased. He had to feign resignation, feign pity, and feign reluctantly going along with it as much as possible.
Luan changed his expression completely. He let his gaze go hazy and replied in a thoroughly drained voice.
“…Understood.”
Luan slid into the blanket. The imperial duvet really is incredible. Resting his head on the plush pillow, he stared blankly into the air. The self-mocking tone he tossed out was a bonus.
“If that's what Your Majesty wishes, I'll do so.”
At those words, Kirian's gaze turned to Luan.
“Doing nothing and just breathing…”
Looking at Luan's face mixed with resignation, Kirian had the thought that something had gone wrong.
“I'll stay still as the dead, just like for the past five years.”
!
In that instant the air of the bedchamber froze. Kirian's hand stopped short. Harkan sucked in a breath, and Kael by the window lost his footing and nearly fell off the window frame.
Luan was simply thinking of his loafing days in the Empress's palace, but to the listeners it was otherwise. To Kirian especially, it was words from which he felt not only resignation but resentment and hurt.
Just like the past five years when you neglected me, you mean to confine me this time too.
I never said any such thing, but as he thought about the meaning of the words, the corner of his mouth went bitter.
From the figure turning its back, he felt the wounds that had piled up while the man lived as an existence of no meaning whatsoever.
“…Luanisiel.”
Kirian's voice trembled faintly. "Just like for the past five years"—those words became a keen dagger and gouged at Kirian's chest.
The past five years. The time he'd neglected the man.
Those years he'd all but abandoned him in the Empress's palace, giving no support, no interest. Luan is now feeling that dreadful loneliness and despair forced upon him again.
He regretted it. He'd been short-sighted. What he'd thrown out wasn't consideration. It was violence. Reviving that memory of confinement.
What… have I done.
Kirian's pupils shook violently.
I said it out of worry, wanting him to please rest. And to Luan it sounded like a cruel order to erase his existence. Guilt washed over Kirian like a wave. His breath choked.
“What I meant wasn't that…”
The Emperor of all people was lost for words. The atmosphere had abruptly gone cold. Harkan's eyes had already reddened and he was clenching his fists. To break this suffocating silence, Kael hastily cut in.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. You do tell good jokes!”
Cold sweat was streaming down Kael's back.
“It means you're that comfortable at Your Majesty's side, doesn't it? Ha, ha. It's a figurative expression for resting deeeeply without a single care or worry, I take it.”
Kael desperately struggled to package Luan's words in a positive light.
“Moved by Your Majesty's deep consideration, you'll forget all the loneliness of the past five years and rest deeply, you mean to say…”
“No.”
Luan tugged the blanket up to his chin and cut him off dryly.
“I just mean I'll stay quiet and do as I'm told.”
Kael's mouth snapped shut.
“Since Your Majesty says my existence is grating.”
“I never said you're grating!”
Kirian cried out urgently. His composure had long since shattered.
“I said counting the days is grating, not that you are! Don't go twisting my words!”
“Isn't that the same thing?”
Luan rolled over as if uninterested and showed his back. It was a back that looked unusually small.
“I'm tired. Everyone, please leave. I have to sleep like the dead, after all.”
A perfect shutout. Luan had to bite his lip hard to hold back the laughter spilling out from inside the blanket.
Pure honey. For the next half-year, I'll film myself lying in bed and then walk out.
But the expressions of the three men left behind his back were wretched. Luan's back looked so very lonely, so forlorn. Yet in the end no one could say a word and they had no choice but to file out of the room as if driven away.
“…Your Majesty.”
Kael breathed in deep and let it out.
“…It seems he's completely shut the door to his heart.”
“Quiet. I know.”
Kirian dragged a hand down his face. His insides burned. The words he'd spat had come back to him as a boomerang.
Five years of indifference wasn't something that could be covered over with a single word of apology or an expensive object. He recalled the retreating sight of Luan lying in bed with his back turned.
Stay still as the dead? Not on my watch.
He wouldn't leave it like this. Not staying still as the dead—he'd make the man live the most vibrant, the most brilliant life in the world. So that never again would resignation-laced words like "the past five years" come from those lips.
He spoke coldly.
“Kael.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Summon every head chef of the imperial palace. Have them make the finest restorative dishes that go down even when there's no appetite—no, every delicacy of the continent.”
Kirian's eyes gleamed with madness.
“Harkan.”
“Speak. If you tell me to shave down the mountains of the North and bring them, I'll shave them.”
“Right. Contact the North and bring everything the Empress might show interest in. Knights' training? Throw it out.”
“I'll engrave it in my heart.”
The Emperor and his knights' commanders scattered, steeling their grim resolve. The sight resembled the retreating backs of generals heading out to a battlefield.
