According to the Countess of Meteland, she was in no position to receive even the title of a concubine. She was a woman who should become merely the emperor’s bedchamber maid. So she should be grateful just to be held by him.

‘Don’t be greedy. Falling happens in an instant. I don’t want to experience the tragedy of being separated from my babies by struggling to obtain something I can’t have.’

Jeanne comforted herself like this every day. Days of looking at herself in the mirror, examining her belly swollen by her husband, and making promises and praying every moment. In fact, such reassurances weren’t particularly difficult for her.

‘Don’t be greedy, Jeanne. The position of empress is not one for the likes of you to covet.’

The Empress Dowager’s ladies-in-waiting, including the Countess of Meteland who had raised her, berated her like this daily on behalf of the Empress Dowager, flogging her with their words. So her feeling that she would be fine being called anything but empress was sincere. However….

She couldn’t remain a young and beautiful woman forever…. What was important to her wasn’t her husband but her children. Yes. The babies were most important. Though born from her womb, all the babies the emperor had given her were lovely, and the child kicking in her belly, trying to communicate with its mother, was beautiful enough to bring tears to her eyes. But….

‘You married a man of too exalted a status to live only as a mother.’

The emperor embraced her gently. His large hand grasped her chin. Jeanne looked up at him blankly. His thick arms wrapped around her waist.

‘You are my wife before being the birth mother of imperial descendants. You mustn’t forget that.’

Her eyebrows drew together at the sudden murmur. She read an uncomfortable emotion from him that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Jeanne wondered if she had done something wrong. But there was nothing.

‘Your Majesty, what……’

She tried to examine the emotion he hadn’t smoothly covered, but her lips were blocked. Her round br*asts were crushed against his flat chest as he pressed close, trying to entwine his tongue with hers.

The emperor’s uniquely captivating scent was elegant and profound. Jeanne, who had been preparing a rebuttal that wasn’t a rebuttal, was gently laid down by his hand.

The man who looked at her with heated eyes pulled at his lips and kissed her. He embraced her as if there were no other woman besides her, despite having several concubines.

So it wasn’t surprising that he was aroused. But just because it wasn’t surprising didn’t mean it wasn’t overwhelming. The emperor’s lust was always overwhelming. He desired and implored her excessively. It was an endless craving.

‘Much has happened between us as a couple. Our children are already four in number. So it’s not bad to have a title. Though it’s meaningless anyway.’

A dry baritone voice lingered in her ear. She opened her eyes, having collapsed from exhaustion. She was in a daze from the heat of lovemaking. Long fingers traced her cheeks and eyes, which had turned apple-red.

‘You are my wife and my woman, whatever name you go by.’

The emperor kissed the bridge of her white nose with a smile. The soft, tender sensation tickled. Her hands gripping the pillowcase tightened.

As she closed her eyes, trying to ignore his words, she heard him whisper that he loved her. Jeanne wondered what meaning such things could have for them.

In any case…. That year, Jeanne was appointed as Empress Consort. It was only after more than a decade since their royal marriage that she received a ‘title’ by which others could call her. So until then, she had been nothing.

Despite being the emperor’s lawful wife through royal marriage, she was just a woman…. She was called simply ‘Jeanne’ by everyone, regardless of rank.

She slowly parted her lips as she ruminated on the past with a hazy consciousness.

“Is the Empress Dowager well?”

“Of course. She’s spending her days without want, thanks to having such a dutiful daughter-in-law.”

The woman smiled brightly. Jeanne looked at her, considering her purpose. Behind her meticulously crafted smile, like one painted with a brush, contempt and hostility were writhing.

In her childhood, she might have been wounded by such contextless sharpness, but not now. She was now a proper lady of the court and the mother of imperial descendants.

“You must know Martha.”

“Martha……?”

“The Countess of Ortlen. She’s also a concubine His Majesty has been keeping close recently.”

The woman lowered her gaze and then lightly raised it. Jeanne read her neatly folded eye corners. How long can someone like you remain so haughty? That was the look in her eyes. A woman born from the womb of a weak and vulgar mother, with nothing remarkable about her except being an Eve….

‘Is she the only Eve in the world?’

She recalled a murmur she had once heard. She had entered the palace and married the emperor because she was an Eve. According to the monks of Acambras, she was the woman who could conceive the heir of the crown prince and continue the line. For that reason alone, Maximilian V, the father of the late emperor, had matched her father and mother. But….

‘The Marchioness of Toulouse and the Countess of Ortlen have plenty of potential too.’

A woman with a beauty mark at the corner of her eye had glanced at her and fanned herself. In the past, she might have turned and stared intently at her, but now she wasn’t childish enough to retort in the same way. Rather, she thought the woman was right.

Yes. She wasn’t the only Eve. Though not pure-blooded, there must be many women born with Eve’s blood. Perhaps the Empress Dowager was such a woman too. After all, she must have given birth to the emperor, an Adam, because she had at least a speck of Eve’s blood….

“They say Martha shows signs of pregnancy.”

The woman calmly murmured. Jeanne silently looked across at her. It felt like her blood was freezing.

She tried to catch her heart as it plummeted to the floor. The ground beneath her feet collapsed, causing dizziness. The early spring sunshine, which had been warm until just a moment ago, stabbed her head like needles.

She imagined a woman panting beneath her husband, her br*asts heaving. Though she found it horrifying to have such dirty thoughts at the mention of pregnancy, she couldn’t help it. He would have grabbed Martha’s full br*asts with those oily fingers and moved his hips.

He would have bitten her earlobe and licked her collarbone, just as he did with her. She knew how persistent he was in bed. No woman had shared his bed for as long as she had. She exerted strength in her neatly folded hands to keep from collapsing.

She had always felt this day would come. Despite giving birth to six of his children, she couldn’t possess anything of the man.

The Empress Dowager had said the emperor had limited things to give from the beginning. So she told her not to try to escape her essential identity as a surrogate. She lowered her gaze, recalling her mother-in-law’s teachings. Though she had heard these words until they were nailed into her ears, every time she recalled them, a corner of her heart grew cold.

“It’s something to be celebrated. After all, a sixth son to succeed His Majesty will be born.”

The woman’s lips drew a straight arc. Her smile, spreading evenly, was gentler than when she had learned of her own pregnancy. Before the Empress Dowager, she too would have to smile like this and bless the woman carrying her husband’s child. She rolled her eyes to cool the heat burning her eyes.

“Besides…. Though from a different womb, it means our Mona will have a sibling to Her Highness the Princess.”

The woman smiled, looking down at Jeanne’s young daughter. “Aren’t you happy?” she asked the princess. The little girl, who had been looking up and checking only her own feelings, moved her lips slightly. Jeanne smiled, hiding her face that seemed about to crumble.

“Of course. All of this is a blessing for the imperial family and God’s grace bestowed upon His Majesty the Emperor. I should choose a gift for Martha.”

* * *

“So? The Empress Dowager called you to act as an elder sister?”

He laughed. Jeanne lost her words and looked at her husband. His crude laugh was no longer beautiful. It was difficult to withstand his clear purple eyes, like touching cold, sharp metal. Suddenly, a long hand traced her eyes.

“Do you believe that?”

The emperor asked. She looked at the corner of the crumpled blanket and thought of his concubines. From the year she passed her nineteenth birthday, she had continuously repeated pregnancy and childbirth without rest. Cesare showed no interest in the concubines he had brought to the court. Whatever happened to those women. However they became broken and fell, he consistently embraced Jeanne.

Jeanne became pregnant as he wished and gave birth to healthy children the following year. Meanwhile, his flower-like concubines fell one after another, tearing each other apart. Their ugly and crude behavior of fighting to receive even one more glance from him was so despicable that people freely criticized and reproached them.