The counseling room’s door opened lightly, then closed. Before Luan’s lingering faint warmth and the cool scent of chamomile had even faded, the heavy oak door on the opposite side swung open roughly.
“…”
It was the entrance of Emperor Kirian Eckart. The instant he set foot inside, the counseling room’s warm air froze over in a flash, chilly as a midwinter ice sheet.
Benya rose from his seat and offered a light bow. Outwardly his manner was perfectly courteous, but his gaze keenly swept over Kirian’s gait, his rigid jawline, and the faintly creased space between his brows.
Kirian threw himself arrogantly into the seat of honor across from him. Legs crossed long, body sunk deep into the backrest, he opened his mouth bluntly before even lifting a teacup.
“What did the empress say.”
It was such blatant impatience he didn’t seem to even intend to hide it. The empire’s loftiest power-holder, fretting himself sick over what assessment the man who’d just left had made of him.
But Benya, novice though he was, was a high priest and an official counselor recognized by the imperial court. Maintaining a calm smile, he shook his head.
“My apologies, Your Majesty. The contents of all counseling sessions are strictly confidential.”
“…Tch. So rigid.”
Kirian clicked his tongue, displeased. If he forced the issue here and pried out Luan’s inner thoughts, the man would surely draw a line again with that indifferent, dry face.
Kirian folded his arms and tapped the armrest with his fingers. Listening to the regular sound—as if suppressing his displeasure—Benya took out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill.
“Well then, let’s begin the counseling. Over this past month… how have you been getting along, Your Majesty?”
It was precisely the same question he’d put to Luan a moment ago. But the temperature of the reply that came back was the polar opposite.
“Who knows.”
Kirian’s red eyes drifted toward empty space. This past month. The time spent with that pale, parched man who had shattered five years and abruptly seized the very center of his field of vision.
He’d thought him a doll that did nothing but breathe. So he’d left him be. And then one day, out of nowhere, the man thrust a divorce agreement at him—and even while tottering as though he’d shatter at any second, he didn’t bend an inch, talking back at every turn.
The corner of Kirian’s lips twisted up slightly.
“It was interesting.”
“Interesting… you say?”
“Yes. Hauling that body of glass shards around, not retreating even before the commander of the Northern Knights, and brushing off even an imperial command as if it were a bother. That whole sequence of events… rather got under my skin.”
He took pains to express his feelings in the light words of interest and curiosity. The blind possessiveness and obsession coiling precariously beyond them—he hadn’t fully recognized it even within himself. No, it was closer to a defense mechanism he didn’t want to recognize. For an emperor to cling to someone was unthinkable.
Benya’s quill glided quietly across the parchment.
“It seems the change in Her Majesty the Empress’s attitude has stirred a new interest in you. In that case, what were the earlier times like? Her Majesty seemed to feel a deep distance regarding the five years of estrangement.”
At Benya’s sharp jab, Kirian’s brow narrowed. Five years. That span was a fatal word for Kirian, too.
“That was… an unavoidable choice.”
Kirian’s voice grew a shade heavier.
“That man was a hostage flung at me as a shackle to control me when I was fifteen. To keep such a person at my side, flesh against flesh? That would have been a betrayal of the imperial house and an insult to myself. I merely preserved my reason as emperor.”
His excuse was politically flawless. But Benya didn’t miss the contradiction hidden within those words.
“Then has the situation changed now? Her Majesty is still of Requies blood.”
“It’s changed.”
Kirian answered at once.
“He’s changed. He’s doing competent things a puppet of the ducal house could never manage. Above all…”
The image of Luan he’d encountered not long ago flashed through Kirian’s mind.
That ghastly scene of him coughing up fistfuls of black blood with that pale face. And the half-wiped bloodstain smeared at the edge of the basin in the purification chamber. Kirian had witnessed that fatal affliction with his own two eyes.
Forcing the bloodstain from his mind, Kirian went on, feigning indifference on the surface.
“…To merely stand by and watch him totter, never knowing when he might collapse—that goes against an emperor’s magnanimity. He’s the empire’s empress, after all. If he were to drop dead from malnutrition or anemia within my own palace, it would crack the imperial house’s dignity.”
Benya inwardly slapped his knee. Mincing up steaks to feed him, hauling him about everywhere—and all that devotion is for the sake of saving face? This couple’s self-deception was on a level beyond compare.
“Then let me shift the subject a little.”
Benya naturally brought up the next topic.
“Recently, Her Majesty has been very faithfully keeping up the temple’s purification rite. Since it’s a matter of handling divine power, the physical toll must be considerable…”
The purification rite.
The instant those words scattered into the air, the temperature of the reception room plummeted. Kirian’s finger, languidly tapping the armrest, stopped dead. Tak.
The scene from outside the purification chamber a few days ago flashed through his head like lightning. Luan’s bare body clad in nothing but a single thin, wet gown. The brazen, green-as-grass brat with vermillion hair lording it in front of him.
“…Hah.”
A sound like a beast’s growl leaked through Kirian’s teeth. Clear killing intent flickered across his red eyes. Benya tilted his head, puzzled.
“Your Majesty? Is something troubling you?”
“What is that insolent little bastard?”
Kirian struck the table irritably. Tak. The teacup rattled, sending out clear ripples.
“The empress’s attendant ought to be a seasoned, experienced high priest. And yet a wet-behind-the-ears brat barely turned twenty gets assigned as his personal aide? This is the temple treating the imperial house with contempt. How dare he look anywhere with those impudent eyes!”
Benya had brought it up purely as a matter of reporting temple business, but Kirian had hit his own meltdown button and was pouring out fury all on his own.
Recalling the insolent gaze Aiden had directed at Luan, Kirian was tormented by displeasure. The urge rose in him to gouge out that priest’s eyes then and there and toss him into the temple’s underground.
“The empress is my person. There’s no emperor who’d overlook another male sniffing around his spouse. That’s the law of the imperial house.”
Blinded by jealousy and running wild—anyone can see it, Your Majesty. Of course, Benya could only nod.
“…I understand your deeper intentions very well, Your Majesty. Seeing how thoroughly you look after Her Majesty’s welfare, I can guess your thoughts on the matter of legally dissolving your relationship on paper.”
Benya finally dragged the heart of this counseling—the word divorce—up to the surface.
“When the cooling-off period ends, Her Majesty wishes to legally finalize the divorce proceedings. What is your position on this, Your Majesty?”
At the question, Kirian gave a small snort of a laugh. On the surface he looked utterly at ease, but Benya didn’t miss the thick vein standing out on the back of Kirian’s hand where it gripped the armrest.
“Divorce, is it.”
Kirian’s voice settled low and languid, yet chilling.
“To think the bond of the imperial house could be severed so easily by a single scrap of paper—the empress really is naive.”
“…Does that mean you do not consent to the divorce?”
“This is a divorce between emperor and empress. I’d have to persuade the senate, I’d need internal and external justification, and I’d have to consider the diplomatic fallout with neighboring nations. I have far too much governing to handle to go dancing to the tune of the empress’s mere whim.”
It was a flawless political excuse. Not the sort an authority who could crush something like the senate in a single stroke, if he set his mind to it, would actually need.
“Besides…”
Kirian’s red eyes glinted like a beast with prey before it.
“The empress these days is rather entertaining. Acting so capable. There’s no reason I’d cut that amusement short by my own hand, is there.”
He thoroughly wrapped his feelings in feigned annoyance and arrogant interest. But the conclusion of his answer was clear.
Never. Not even dead would I let him go.
Reading the precarious, desperate true intent hidden behind that arrogant answer, Benya let out a deep sigh inwardly. At this point it was no longer counseling, but a clash of the irresistible spear against the immovable shield.
Moments ago, Luan had insisted that despite all this obsession, there was no possibility of relationship development. Kirian, meanwhile, prattled about interest and saving face with his mouth while exuding, with his whole body, a vicious possessiveness that screamed absolutely no intention of divorce.
What’s more, that impenetrable shield was using a future destined partner—one who hadn’t even appeared—as its defensive barrier. And this arrogant spear was sharpening itself, jealousy exploding over a mere brat of a priest, vowing to wring his neck.
Benya quietly finished his record on the parchment.
Your Majesty the Emperor. On the surface excuses himself with face-saving and amusement, but internally is manifesting an unconscious and blind obsession toward Her Majesty the Empress. Absolutely no intention of divorce. Two-way communication impossible.
That was what he wanted to write, but he wrote a single polite line instead. His Majesty the Emperor has no intention of divorce.
“Understood, Your Majesty. I’ve confirmed your firm resolve well.”
Benya set down his quill and wore a serene, benevolent smile—though one mixed with a hint of deep pity.
“Shall we take a brief rest and then wrap up the counseling?”
A fatigue had washed over him that he couldn’t possibly endure without a break.
After a short rest, this time Luan and Kirian came in together.
Kirian’s gaze was fixed on Luan by reflex. It was a look checking whether Luan had felt dizzy while waiting outside, whether any color remained in his pale cheeks. But Luan didn’t notice that gaze at all and seated himself gracefully on the sofa.
The empire’s emperor and empress, sitting side by side.
In Benya’s eyes as he looked from one to the other lay deep interest and a touch of fatigue. Because the savage feast of delusion and obsession the two had each poured out within this cramped room was still vivid.
“Having heard each of your innermost feelings in the individual sessions, this time you may freely share what you’ve felt during your time together.”
Benya picked up his quill and posed the most basic of questions.
“Over this past month, if there’s been anything that hurt your feelings, or any conflict in your communication or relationship, would you tell me?”
Just moments ago, these were two people clicking their tongues about delusions and slamming the table over that brat of a priest. Benya inwardly braced himself, thinking a spark-flying war of nerves might erupt right here.
But the answer that came back missed Benya’s expectation entirely.
“There was nothing at all, Benya.”
Luan set down his teacup and wore a perfect smile.
“His Majesty has looked after me most generously this past month. How could there be anything to feel slighted about?”
It was a thoroughly exemplary, clean answer.
Benya stole a glance at Kirian. This was the emperor who, just moments ago, had been growling like a beast, declaring with his whole body, he’s mine, I’ll never let him go. Wouldn’t he bristle at the empress drawing such a line?
But Kirian, too, crossed his legs with an indifferent face and answered languidly.
“It’s as the empress says. There were no particular conflicts.”
Kirian propped his chin and looked down at Luan from the corner of his eye.
“The empress’s body is so precarious that I simply paid a little attention. Beyond that, there was nothing for us to clash over.”
This one, too—disguising his possessiveness and obsession as a matter-of-course duty—gave a perfect performance.
“…”
Benya was momentarily at a loss for words at the two’s exceedingly peaceful and polite answers.
On the surface it was the picture of an exemplary couple respecting each other’s positions and observing courtesy. But Benya knew. This stillness was not because the two understood each other, but because each was firmly trapped within his own perfect set of mismatched dreams.
Despite completely misunderstanding each other, by some miracle their goals of quietly getting through this session had aligned.
“…I’m relieved you both seem satisfied with the other’s consideration.”
Swallowing a deep, hollow laugh inwardly, Benya rolled his quill across the parchment.
“In that case, regarding the direction of the ongoing divorce cooling-off period, may I take it that both of your opinions… remain unchanged?”
It was the final confirmation. At that question, the two nodded at the same time, as if by prior agreement.
“Of course.”
“Naturally.”
It was a harmony so perfect it raised goosebumps. The meanings, of course, were polar opposites. Judging that posing any further questions would be meaningless, Benya closed the parchment without a shred of regret.
“Very good. I’ve been deeply moved by your profound consideration and peaceful communication. With this, I’ll conclude this month’s couples counseling.”
When he announced the session was over, Luan rose from his seat with a light expression. As he pushed himself up and wobbled faintly, Kirian’s firm arm wrapped around his waist as if it had been waiting for the chance.
“Careful. Don’t go collapsing again and grating on my nerves.”
The tone was curt, but the touch fully supporting Luan’s weight was eerily careful and tender.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be careful, Your Majesty.”
Luan answered in a soulless voice and leaned against Kirian’s shoulder as though it were the obvious thing.
Watching the backs of the two as they slipped out of the reception room side by side, so naturally sharing each other’s warmth, Benya downed the rest of his chamomile tea in one go. He felt a headache coming on.
“O God, please have mercy on those blind little lambs…”
The priest’s heartfelt prayer rang quietly through the empty counseling room. It was the futile prayer of a pitiable priest who couldn’t have known the whole situation had been tangled up by that very god.
