Mornings at the imperial palace always began with rumor and ended with rumor. Especially in the closed-off, tedious world of the court, the tale of the emperor and empress was the most stimulating subject of all. Lately there’d even been unprecedented movement to it, so it was bound to draw all the more attention. Thanks to the unparalleled mega-scandal, the rumors were sweeping through like a storm.
“Did you hear? The moment the emperor got back from the temple, he carried the empress off in his arms!”
The maids whispered as they sorted the laundry.
“Carried him off? I heard he just supported him.”
“No, the way I heard it, he scooped him up—princess-style, whoosh!—and went.”
“Really?”
“They say he carried him cradled to his chest like a precious treasure.”
“Oh my, goodness. Weren’t the two of them on bad terms? They didn’t exchange a single word for five years.”
An older maid beside them clicked her tongue and cut in.
“From what I hear, there’s a rumor the empress is quite ill.”
“Oh, that’s right! They say His Majesty has been personally tending to his meals lately?”
“Tending to his meals?”
“Well, supposedly he mince the steak himself and fed it to him, and even wiped the corners of his mouth!”
“Oh my, goodness!”
“Kyaaa!”
The young maids shrieked, faces flushing. Cold-blooded as the emperor was rumored to be, his outer shell was magnificent beyond compare. And the empress—what of him? When the two stood side by side, there was no finer feast for the eyes. And that emperor, who had treated the empress coldly as the son of his political enemy, was now devoting himself utterly. It was a romance drama no novel could keep pace with. Reality outdid them all!
The already-embellished, exaggerated rumor swelled even larger and spilled over the walls. The emperor’s ferocious devotion. The mad, fixated obsession of an emperor who couldn’t let go of a dying empress. The fatal empress who had the young emperor wrapped around his finger.
The garbled rumor passed even through the nobles’ tea parties and finally reached the darkest heart of power in the empire.
Crash—!
A sharp shattering sound split the silence. A teacup struck the wall and burst into pieces. The servants and informants lined up in the office couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t even breathe.
“…What did you just blather?”
The man receiving the report ground his teeth in the shadows. One with translucent platinum-blond hair just like Luan’s. A coldly merciless man, sharp as a blade buried in eternal snow. The Duke of Requies.
“The emperor… carried my son into his own bedchamber?”
The duke’s pale-violet eyes narrowed fiercely. In truth, the rumor that had reached him had about twenty spoonfuls of seasoning piled onto every one spoonful of fact.
“Yes, Your Grace. According to the rumor, Her Majesty the Empress collapsed at the temple…”
Already a falsehood from this point.
“…and His Majesty took him to his own room and has been nursing him devotedly.”
Here a little truth was mixed in, which made it hard to tell apart. To begin with, the rooms were merely connected, and Luan had been resting in his own room.
“Hah. The fool.”
But to the duke, that wasn’t important. He despised his second son, Luanisiel. A disgrace to the house from the day he was born. A defective product who, born a man, couldn’t even wield a sword and couldn’t properly control his divine power either. At least his hide was worth looking at, so he’d tossed him to the emperor.
He’d sent him to keep watch, and for five years the idiot had done nothing—and now, at this late hour, he was whining about divorce. And, on top of it all, wagging his tail at the emperor.
“He dares betray the house and attach himself to the emperor?”
The emperor’s attitude at their last meeting had been unusual. How did he charm that young brat? The duke was convinced Luan had bewitched the emperor with that pretty face. There was no other way the cold-blooded Kirian would let his son into his bedchamber. Though perhaps he really did nothing but nurse him.
“Insolent. He’s forgotten thanks to whom he sits there breathing.”
The duke rose from his seat.
“Bring the carriage around.”
He lifted his chin arrogantly.
“I shall pay a visit to the sickbed. My son is said to be dying—can a father simply sit still?”
The servants, who remembered the scene of the duke storming back and raging after the humiliation of his last visit, hesitated. But the duke’s will was unshaken.
“I must straighten out my inadequate son’s head. A cur that doesn’t even know who its master is.”
A chilling killing intent hung in his voice.
While the outside world turned upside down and all manner of rumors swirled, Luan was spending a peaceful afternoon. Propped against a plush, oversized cushion in bed, he was reading a book. Though, of course, he absolutely couldn’t get past page five.
Excessive nursing wasn’t an entirely bad thing. He didn’t have to work! Apart from Kirian’s burdensome mealtime service that came around every meal, it was the most comfortable time he’d ever had at the palace. Lately, the man seemed to have hit his limit working in the room beyond the door and had cleared off to his office, which made Luan even happier. Luan popped a piece of prettily cut fruit into his mouth and thought.
Nice. This is the empress’s life.
It was a luxury beyond anything he could have imagined across both his past life and this one. He liked the quiet room. Before, he couldn’t rest properly even while resting, with hulking brutes swarming around making a racket—this was true rest. It’d be perfect with a single cup of coffee.
Five months left now, is it.
A month had passed since he’d submitted the divorce agreement, and he’d had the counseling the other day. It was progressing more smoothly than expected. He’d thought he’d be on edge with his life under threat, but there was nothing of the sort. Luan calculated the calendar inwardly and yawned.
That was when it happened.
Crash, bang— a commotion came from the far end of the corridor. He thought he heard the flustered voices of the escort knights guarding the door, and then the bedchamber door opened. The chamberlain came in, his face ashen.
“What’s the matter.”
“My deepest apologies. Right now, at the palace gate… the Duke of Requies has arrived.”
For a moment, Luan’s hand stopped. Ah, please tell me I misheard.
“…Who?”
“The Duke of Requies.”
I’m doomed. Luan’s pale-violet eyes wavered. This old man’s come calling again. He’d thought the duke wouldn’t return after the last incident, but the man was persistent. Then again, he was the ultimate power-tripper, so it wasn’t as if Luan had assumed he’d never come at all.
“And His Majesty?”
“He’s in a meeting…”
Timing his visit for when Kirian’s away—he came with a plan, then. Luan closed the book he’d been reading. His honey-sweet rest time was being forcibly terminated. Entry to the palace itself wasn’t forbidden, so he’d figured the man would come eventually, but it still wasn’t welcome.
“Tell them to let him in.”
“But…”
“He’s not a man the likes of you can stop. Better than letting things get noisy.”
Luan threw back the blanket he’d been under and rose from the bed. He straightened his disheveled clothes and swept back his hair. His languid gaze turned calm and graceful in an instant.
Don’t underestimate me. I’ve seen complainants until I’m sick of them.
When he opened the door of the drawing room and stepped in, he had the illusion of a midwinter blade-wind sweeping through. Within that chill sat the Duke of Requies. The face so like Luan’s own made it all the more strangely unpleasant.
The duke slowly looked Luan over as he entered. It was a contemptuous gaze, like one regarding a defective product.
“You’ve come, Duke.”
“Have you been well, Your Majesty.”
It was a different feel from last time. This is definitely a build-up for some high-level harassment. Pointing fingers and shouting would honestly be easier to deal with.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting. As you can see, my body’s not well.”
“I am at fault for failing to care for Your Majesty’s health.”
The two exchanged words in low, smooth voices. Then again, last time the duke had gone off the rails, but Requies was fundamentally a noble house that prized etiquette. I was going to needle him about Requies’s etiquette being only this much if he started pointing fingers again—what a waste.
Luan went on with a faint smile.
“Did His Majesty perhaps send you an invitation? I haven’t been well lately, so I haven’t sent any invitations myself, and I didn’t expect to receive you, Duke.”
Did you get the emperor’s permission before coming? He tilted his head and asked as if genuinely curious. He saw the duke grit his teeth. The man seemed to have come worked up over something, and the fire had apparently been stoked even better.
“I heard word that Your Majesty was unwell in mind and body. As a father, concern got the better of me, and I committed this breach of etiquette.”
“Breach of etiquette? How could I not know your ever-present concern for me?”
“The rumors going around deepened my worry, so I’ve come to see you like this.”
Aha. There had indeed been an incomprehensible rumor going around lately that he was on good terms with the emperor. That he was favored, that the two were inseparable. The man had apparently come worked up after hearing it.
“I also wished to ask whether your thoughts had changed regarding the matter I raised before.”
He means: why are you raising hell about divorce when you’re receiving such favor? Luan slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. Of course, he didn’t blurt out that he’d divorce as he had last time.
“I had no idea you were so curious about the intimate affairs between a married couple.”
“…What.”
“To think a father’s hobby could be this… unseemly. How embarrassing.”
“Watch your mouth, Luanisiel.”
He’d said it to provoke the man. But he hadn’t expected the mask to come off right away. The duke rose from his seat and approached him.
“You’ve grown awfully insolent. How much do you think the emperor’s favor can protect you?”
“This is easier to converse with.”
“This is all for you and the house. Withdraw the divorce suit this instant and secure the emperor’s heart for certain. That is your reason for breathing.”
The duke laid out his point. It was a command.
“I refuse.”
Luan answered at once.
“It’s my decision. I have no intention of mortgaging the rest of my life any longer.”
“Don’t delude yourself. Do you imagine the house will take you back once you divorce and walk out?”
It was a blatant threat.
“There’s nowhere in the empire that will take in a divorced empress. If you don’t want to die miserably in the streets, behave.”
But Luan replied with an even more relaxed expression.
“You’ve got it wrong, Father.”
“…?”
“Who said I’d be returning to the house?”
I haven’t the faintest intention of going back, yet here he is deluding himself.
“…What did you say?”
“Five years here or eighteen years at the ducal estate—it was all the same to me.”
Luan swept his hair back as he spoke.
“Everywhere, I was a ghost. I’m sick of that now.”
Luan’s pale-violet eyes looked the duke dead-on.
“I despise the imperial palace, a prison gilded on the outside—but I’ll pass on the hell that is Requies, too. So you can set aside your worries about whether the house will take me back.”
“You… insolent wretch!”
The duke’s reason snapped. The tool that had never dared talk back to him had just declared it would slip free of its master’s control. The duke raised his hand high.
Smack—!
The sound of flesh striking flesh cut sharply through the air. Luan’s head turned limply to the side. The inside of his mouth split, and the faintly metallic taste of blood spread. His white cheek swelled red in an instant.
The duke stood there panting, his hand trembling. Luan slowly turned his head back to look at the duke. It was a dry expression, without a single tear welling up. Unfamiliar. This was not the son he’d watched over all these years.
“…Feel better now?”
Luan asked flatly, wiping the split of his lip with his thumb. The duke was, if anything, all the more dumbfounded by Luan’s composure. He raised his hand once more.
That was the very moment.
“What… do you think you’re doing?”
A low, vicious voice, as if scraped up from the very bottom of hell, came through. At the door—open without anyone noticing when—stood the emperor. The duke, flustered, started to open his mouth. But the killing intent radiating from the emperor, a mere twenty years old, was overwhelming enough to give even the seasoned duke pause. Has he ever shown this much killing intent? It wasn’t like this last time, either.
“Duke of Requies. Don’t imagine you’re leaving here alive today.”
The emperor’s fury exploded. Luan watched the sight blankly. His cheek throbbed, but oddly… he felt reassured?
Hmm. I must be dazed from getting hit after all.
