“Thank goodness… you really are alive…”

Elizabeth had no interest in why Burkhardt had become emperor. She was simply grateful that he had returned to her, alive and well. Whatever resentment he might hurl at her, she could endure it. There had been times when she wished only for his health, and times when she would have been content if he came back alive, even if he were broken in body.

“You must have wished for my death.”
“No, that’s not true! I…”
“Enough. Don’t think I’ll be fooled by that expression. I’m sick and tired of being toyed with by you.”

She never expected that the betrayal she had committed could be forgiven in an instant.

Even so, Elizabeth wanted to set straight the part that Burkhardt had inevitably misunderstood. She was prepared to be hated, but she hoped his anger might subside—if only a little—sooner rather than later. After all, hating someone could be just as exhausting as being hated. She wished that, after all he had endured, he wouldn’t waste his heart on resentment.

“Burke, I can understand why you’d think that. But the truth is…”

“Your Majesty, I apologize for failing to carry out your orders properly.”

Just as Elizabeth was about to speak of the past, the knights who had searched the mansion gathered. As they knelt, the garden rippled like a silver wave.

It was not a sight one often saw, yet Elizabeth found no pleasure in it. She needed to speak while she still had the resolve. It was already late—if she delayed any longer, the misunderstanding would swell beyond control.

Elizabeth shifted restlessly, trying to draw Burkhardt’s attention. He watched her in silence for a moment, then spoke with a cold, cynical expression.

“You owed the Count of Orte in the past, didn’t you?”

Elizabeth knew all too well that the “debt” he spoke of was by no means a favorable one. She gripped the back of his neck tightly, hoping that for the sake of their old ties, he might at least preserve her dignity in front of these people. If they were strangers she would never see again, it wouldn’t matter—but as long as she followed Burkhardt, she would have to face them repeatedly.

Contrary to her desperate hope, he went on.

“I heard the Count of Orte died alone, leaving behind a beautiful wife. A pity, really. But haven’t you also heard the more… intriguing rumors? For example, that the Countess devoured her husband…”

Devoured her husband. At those words, a wave of unease swept over Elizabeth.

“They say that before marrying the Count, you already had a husband—but, blinded by wealth and luxury, you claimed the marriage was invalid. So… is it true?”

How… She couldn’t think any further. Elizabeth trembled as though doused from head to toe in icy water. Looking down at her in that state, Burkhardt gave a short, derisive laugh.

“There are truths one can’t answer to.”

He knew the rumor was false—so why bring it up here, in front of others? For a moment, a pang of hurt welled up inside her. And yet, part of her hoped that by letting him resent her, some of the rot festering in his heart might be eased.

“Hah. Not even a reaction.”

Burkhardt cast her a sidelong glance, then turned his gaze to the knights. They still knelt motionless, awaiting his command.

“We’ll stay here tonight and set out in the morning. If the lack of servants is inconvenient, summon some townsfolk to see to our comfort. Ah, and I’ll be spending the night in the Count’s chamber—have a meal sent there.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

At his order, the knights immediately withdrew.

All but one person left.

“Geraldine, didn’t I tell you to go inside?”
“Your Majesty, may I speak?”

Unlike the other knights in full armor, Geraldine wore a simple uniform. He seemed to be a noble who had taken part in the war, yet his pure and dignified appearance made him seem too gentle to stand against Burkhardt.

Elizabeth half-expected a thunderous reprimand to fall on him at any moment, but Burkhardt said nothing. He simply kept his gaze fixed on her ankle, which was swelling more and more.

“Your Majesty.”
“Geraldine. You know well how long I’ve been waiting for this moment, don’t you?”

Most people would have found it difficult to speak in such a dry, tense atmosphere. But Geraldine, without a tremor in his voice, calmly said all he wished to say.

“I speak as someone who has watched over Your Majesty closely. Please, do nothing you will regret. And… there is also a matter I wish to ask you about.”

“An issue?”
“On what grounds do you intend to take the Countess?”
“Do you think that, as emperor, I can’t even do something like this at my own discretion?”

Burkhardt’s voice dropped to an icy tone, and the atmosphere grew even more menacing. Elizabeth thought Geraldine would retreat in fear, but instead he replied with calm indifference.

“Are you not the sun of the Clemens Empire, Your Majesty? No one will stop you from doing what you wish. However, in our homeland, the Countess’s title must be clarified. She cannot continue to be called ‘Countess’ as she is now.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable point, and the sharp edge in Burkhardt’s demeanor eased slightly.

“Since Your Majesty has searched for her for so long, whether you make her empress, take her in as a personal attendant, or drag her away as a slave—no one will interfere. We will simply treat her according to the position you choose for her.”

“Her treatment…”

As if considering it for the first time, Burkhardt fell into thought. Winter had passed, but the evening air was still bitterly cold. For the frail Elizabeth, dressed so lightly, it was hardly weather she could endure.

Feeling her body grow colder in his arms, Burkhardt gave a short reply and turned away.

“We’ll discuss that matter another time. If we stay here any longer, we might have another corpse to bury in this mansion.”

The words were chilling, yet Elizabeth felt a faint spark of hope. If he still cared enough to think about her condition, perhaps—just perhaps—there was still a chance they could talk.

As soon as they returned to the Count’s chamber, Burkhardt set Elizabeth down on the bed. Then he lifted her injured foot and examined her ankle from different angles.

Seeing how visibly swollen it was, he frowned.

“Were you hoping to end up crippled?”

“…”

The time apart had been so long that Elizabeth didn’t know where to begin. One wrong word now could either clear his misunderstanding—or deepen it beyond repair. She didn’t want to grow any more distant from him.

Unaware of her fear, Burkhardt pressed her for an answer.
“Are you saying you don’t even want to talk?”

“That’s not it. I just… have so many questions to ask, and so much I need to say, that I was hesitating. I wasn’t trying to run away from you or harm myself. The knights barged in and, before I knew it…”

“You jumped?”

His mocking tone cut into her heart, sharper than the pain in her ankle. She knew the wounds Burkhardt had suffered—and those he still carried—were deep. But perhaps her own tender heart simply couldn’t bear the sting of these small, passing hurts.

When their eyes met, his gaze was unreadable, stripped of any visible emotion. The pressure in that look, as if demanding an answer, made her murmur, almost under her breath:

“If I’d known you were the emperor, I would have gone with you willingly.”

Elizabeth knew full well that, to Burkhardt, those words wouldn’t even count as an excuse—yet she had nothing else to say.

“You’re merciless to commoners, but it seems your attitude changes for an emperor.”
“No, I…”
“During the war, I received word through the Count’s underling that our marriage had been annulled. That means you abandoned me, doesn’t it?”

Elizabeth wanted to tell him that she had waited for him regardless of status—that even before hearing the news of his supposed death, she had spent her days in anxious prayer for his safety. That even now, after throwing herself into his arms just to confirm he was real and not a dream, she was still waiting for him.

But Burkhardt cut her off, his voice a low growl.

There was no warmth to be found in the eyes that met hers—only a chill that seemed to fill them completely. Shrinking back, Elizabeth offered a faltering excuse.

“I did it to save you! The Count threatened me…”

“And you thought I’d be glad if you offered yourself to him in exchange for my life? I would have rather died.”

Burkhardt’s voice was sharp, his presence radiating a fierce, unyielding force as he dismissed her words outright.

She had expected him to resent her. She had believed she could understand his feelings—but the depth and weight of that emotion were far greater than she had imagined.

Fear gripped her—not because of the oppressive aura he exuded, but because she realized she might never be able to earn his forgiveness.

Startled by the thought, Elizabeth clenched her trembling hands tightly.

“Haa…”

Burkhardt’s gaze lingered on her shaking hands before he let out a slow sigh. Then, he turned his attention to her injured ankle.

Hadn’t he been showing the weight of long-held resentment just moments ago?

After wiping all expression from his face, Burkhardt sank to one knee. With a gentle touch, he pressed a cold, damp cloth to Elizabeth’s ankle. The sharp pain dulled under the chill of the ice.

They exchanged no words during the treatment, but Elizabeth welcomed the silence. Even if Burkhardt turned on her again later, she wanted to savor this moment of kindness in its entirety.

As he tended to her, she saw in him the man he used to be—the one who would teasingly scold her for getting hurt so often, even as he worried over her.

“Ah—!”

A short cry escaped her lips as a dull ache shot through her ankle. Perhaps finding her nostalgic expression unsettling, Burkhardt suddenly gripped her ankle tightly, interrupting the quiet bandaging.

The happy memories scattered, and Elizabeth was pulled back into reality.

“Burke.”

She spoke his name in a whisper, and slowly, he lifted his head to look at her.

She had thought he was angry, but why did he look so unbearably sad…?
More than his injured ankle, it was the grief etched on Burkhardt’s face that crushed Elizabeth’s heart.

“Does it hurt? I’ve felt pain far worse than this.”
The faint tremor in his voice, tinged with moisture, made her chest tighten all over again.

He was the one confronting her, yet the more he spoke, the more his gaze seemed to crumble — and that look in his eyes was achingly pitiful.
The tension she had been holding back swelled inside her.

Knock, knock.
With that single sound, the taut air between them dissipated.
Elizabeth and Burkhardt slowly turned their eyes toward the door.

A moment later, a knight entered the room, pushing a trolley.
“Your Majesty, I’ve brought the food you requested.”

She welcomed the voice that broke the uncomfortable mood — but only for a moment.
Elizabeth’s expression hardened.
On the trolley was food that stirred up her deepest trauma.