“Your Majesty. You’ve written the Empress’s pet name in the signature field again.”

“…”

“Do you have any idea how many times this has happened?” Geraldine’s voice burst out, full of exasperation, as if he could no longer hold it in.

Ever since that night when Burkhardt had secretly looked in on Elizabeth, he had been filling official documents with her pet name. He had sworn to pull himself together, yet here he was again, making the absurd mistake of signing “Beth” in the space for his name.

After several days of the same thing, Geraldine had grown almost used to it. With a sigh, he pulled an identical sheet of paper from his coat and handed it to him.

“At this rate, we’ll run out of paper. Please, focus this time.”

But Burkhardt’s hand betrayed his will, and once again he wrote “Beth.”

Geraldine’s scream rang through the office, snapping Burkhardt halfway back to his senses.

“Aaagh! Your Majesty, please, stop writing the Empress’s pet name!”

“When did I… Ah. I see.”

“How long do you plan to keep your head in the clouds? You can only hold the nobles in line through force for so long. It’s time to focus on raising your own standing rather than relying on fear.”

Geraldine scolded him as if he had a spare life to risk—scolding born of affection.

Once, such words had come only from Elizabeth herself. And that made him miss her all the more.

“Burke, you’re all I have—so why do you keep coming back hurt?”
Was the worry in her voice truly sincere?
Every time he came home from a fight, Elizabeth grew anxious.
In a world where their parents had passed away and only the two of them remained, she feared losing Burkhardt as well.

And now, just a few words from Geraldine were enough to bring her to mind.
Whenever something reminded him of her, a fragment of bittersweet memory would suddenly surface, setting Burkhardt’s heart alight.
When would he finally be able to shake off the woman etched so deeply into him?

Burkhardt raked his long hair back roughly, letting his discomfort show without restraint.

“Your Majesty. Does my visit to the Empress trouble you so much?”
“Me? Of course not!”

Only moments ago, he had been thinking of Elizabeth, so his denial came out sharp and forceful.
Geraldine narrowed his eyes at the suspicious reaction.

Even at Geraldine’s impertinent behavior, Burkhardt merely furrowed his brow slightly and turned his gaze back to the documents.

They contained a grave request for aid to a region where the winter sickness had broken out, yet he had to read them several times before the words would sink in.

It was because they stirred memories of his own past—times of hardship when no help had come.

To think that even while reading such an important document, Elizabeth would still come to mind… it was surely a serious case.

With a faint, wry smile, he stared at the papers. Geraldine, watching him, let out a worried remark.

“Your Majesty, I don’t believe that simply suppressing your feelings is always the right course. All this time, you haven’t been able to let go of the Empress. If you cannot cast her aside, then carry her with you. No one would dare raise a hand against you.”

“I’m not saying I’ll give up Beth. After all I went through to win her, do you think I’d let her go? I just need a little more time.”

Burkhardt let out a sigh as he glanced at Geraldine beside him.
Though he had been wounded more than once by those he trusted, he still wanted to believe in people.

“Geraldine, I trust you won’t betray me like Beth did.”

“Your Majesty, I’ve told you time and again—don’t put your faith in people. Don’t trust me; trust the money and power you’ve given me.”

For all his words, Geraldine was not the sort to betray him.

He had saved Burkhardt’s life when he had nothing, and had been instrumental in placing him on the throne—unlike Elizabeth.

“How foolish… to be hurt like that and still want to trust people.”

“And who could call Your Majesty a fool? You keep your balance and pursue what you want without hesitation. Whenever you waver, I’ll be there behind you to support you.”

“That’s why I put up with your excesses.”

“As well you should.”

There was enough ease between them now for a touch of humor.

Just as Burkhardt’s thoughts of Elizabeth had lightened, Geraldine spoke again in a calm voice.

“When I first laid eyes on Your Majesty, I thought I was beholding the first Emperor himself, as if the portrait had come to life. Even your long golden hair was the spitting image of his.”

Burkhardt let out a short laugh at Geraldine’s exaggeration.

To his mind, the only real resemblance to the first Emperor’s portrait was the golden length of his hair and his green eyes—perhaps, if one were generous, his imposing stature as well.

And yet, for that alone, they had exalted him as the prophesied Emperor returned.

“If not for your well-placed rumors, I doubt I’d have become Emperor at all.”

“As I’ve told you many times, the prophecy was true. Just as foretold, Your Majesty returned and ended the war. Now, if only the winter sickness eating away at the Empire could be dealt with…”

“Well… that, I’m not so sure is mine to solve.”

“Time will tell.”

Geraldine seemed to have unshakable faith in Burkhardt, yet even he could do nothing about the winter sickness.

All they could do was quarantine the affected regions and provide them with food.

Aside from that one problem, Burkhardt was every bit the emperor foretold in prophecy.

Anyone who dared oppose him had been eliminated; now, there was no one left who could defy his will—no one except Elizabeth.

When his thoughts began drifting toward her again, he deliberately tried to shake them off, tossing out a playful remark instead.

“If there hadn’t been a mark on that… intimate part of me, they wouldn’t have bothered with portraits or any other nonsense to try and sway me. The Duke of Giovanni has seen a place on my body that only Beth is allowed to see—so he’s bound to stay by my side forever.”

“…By that logic, wouldn’t Your Majesty’s personal physician be in the same category?”

The mood in the office shifted as they traded such frivolous words—light enough now for jokes.

“What an irreverent expression you have. If the duke had done nothing but flatter me, I’d have lost interest. A pity, really.”
“I have no intention of satisfying Your Majesty’s whims. My family has only ever been loyal to upholding the Empire’s prophecy.”
“If you’d just hold your tongue…”
“To be honest, I was glad when Your Majesty grew your hair. Long hair has always been a symbol of the royal house. Do you remember when I asked why you decided to grow it back then?”
“Did that ever happen?”

Burkhardt’s face showed a flicker of discomfort at the past Geraldine had brought up.

Even the sight of his own hair was enough to remind him of Elizabeth—so deeply was she entwined with him.

Knowing full well how uneasy it made him, Geraldine nonetheless pressed on, bringing up that conversation from long ago.

“I can still remember the expression on Your Majesty’s face when you answered me that day.”

On a battlefield where people died all around, a man needed something—anything—to hold on to if he was to keep his sanity.

Some carried portraits of their families close to their hearts; others brought trinkets exchanged with loved ones.

Burkhardt had clung to his hair, insisting on keeping it as it was, and in doing so, he kept his mind intact.

He could no longer recall exactly when his hair had become a bridge to thoughts of Elizabeth.

But whenever he saw it, her smiling face would come to mind, and so he stubbornly kept the cumbersome length.

To return to her side again.

As the wars dragged on, his hair—often soaked in blood—became his emblem.

Had he ever spoken to Geraldine about his hair and mentioned Elizabeth?

“What kind of expression do you claim I had?”

“You said you were savoring memories of someone precious to you… and there was a sad smile on your lips. Do you not remember?”

Only then did a memory, buried for years, resurface for Burkhardt—

that morning, wrapped in warm blankets, playing idly with Elizabeth’s hands as the day began.

At the hour when dawn began to break, Burkhardt would feel Elizabeth stirring faintly in his arms.

How endearing she looked, fussing and fidgeting as she tried to braid his hair.

She thought she was moving carefully, but there was no way Burkhardt could fail to notice what she was doing.

How hard he had worked to pretend he was still asleep.

Only when he felt he could delay no longer would Burkhardt pull her into a firm embrace—his way of letting her know he was already awake.

And every time, even though she fell for it again and again, Elizabeth would startle and bury her face against his chest, like a child who thinks she’s hidden simply by covering her face.

The sight was so irresistibly sweet that Burkhardt would shower her face with tiny kisses, over and over, without end—until she chose to lift her head and show him her face again.

Only when her embarrassment had faded did she peek her head up and give him a shy smile.

How utterly lovely she looked in that moment.

Yes—this was the sight Burkhardt longed to see.

“Good morning, Burke. It’s another fine day.”

After teasing him, she would always follow it with that slightly awkward greeting.

Her bright, ringing laughter would spill over to him, and he would find himself smiling just as openly.

What Burkhardt wanted to protect wasn’t merely his hair.

It was the hair that held the happy moments they had shared.

But what did it matter now? It had all been futile.

The memory of that morning with her at the count’s estate—so rare and precious—rose unbidden, souring his mood.

The image of her large, clear red eyes brimming with tears had overlaid itself on the memory, spoiling the happiness it once held.

It was no longer a memory that remained purely sweet.

Though he was the one lingering in the past, he found himself snapping at Geraldine for no real reason.

“…It’s over now. If you’re going to spout nonsense, you may as well leave for the day.”

Perhaps it was because he had recalled those happy moments with Elizabeth.
Burkhardt’s mood had sunk into the mire, yet the heavy air around him seemed to have lightened.

“Mmmrrgh.”

Letting out a groan, Geraldine suddenly seemed to recall something. Without another word, he returned to his desk and began rifling through a stack of documents.

Had he finally given up on talking about Elizabeth?

Burkhardt watched him in silence for a moment, then, in an effort to clear his head, grabbed the cup of tea before him and drained it in one go.
It was neither hot nor cold—lukewarm, perfectly mirroring his current state of mind. Strangely, it calmed him.

“Your Majesty, please read this.”

By then, Geraldine had approached and was holding out a bundle of papers.
Burkhardt recognized them immediately—he had already read them once before.

“Isn’t this the report the head lady-in-waiting submitted some time ago?”

He turned his gaze away, not wanting to show any interest, but Geraldine pressed the documents into his hand as if it were imperative he read them.

“Why?”

“When a person is confined to a closed space, they can’t help but go mad. I know how you feel about the Empress, but at the very least, give her an environment fit for a human being.”

“…”

“Why not summon Her Majesty to your office instead? Wouldn’t it be better for the two of you to be together? At the very least, you wouldn’t be losing your focus.”