***

Contrary to her wish that the child should die, it grew and thrived. Now that she was aware of her pregnancy, she felt as if her belly was beginning to show.

What could she do? She tried pressing hard against her belly, even tying it tightly with a cord, but the child stubbornly clung to life. She became more and more exhausted. And with her exhaustion, Areo’s expression became all the more frightening.

Not because of the child. It was something else, something she couldn’t understand.

The door burst open and Areos entered. Since he had learned of her pregnancy, he had restrained his violent tendencies, but today was different. His face was unnervingly rigid, his lips pressed into a tight line, and his icy, dead eyes sent shivers down her entire body.

Without a word, he pulled her to her feet and pressed his lips to hers.

“Mmph, ah…!”

His tongue penetrated her mouth roughly, leaving no room for breath, as if devouring everything. The sheer force of his kiss sent her mind reeling. Cyrene clung to him tightly, the only way to keep herself from collapsing.

Areos held her face for a long time, pressing his lips to hers before slowly pulling away.

“If you want me dead so badly, you’d better start praying now.”

Cyrene stared at him blankly, not understanding his words, and he let out a mad laugh.

“I will kill the father you so desperately want. Cyrene, the very fact that you desire him…”

His hand tightened around her hair, pulling her head back. She let out a short whimper as pain shot through her scalp. Areos let out a dry laugh.

“-is something I cannot tolerate.”

“……”

“So if you really want me to die, then pray for it.”

“I want it,” Cyrene said firmly. “For your death, for the death of the child, for all of it.”

At her words, Areos laughed again, his voice cold and mocking.

“If I die, you die too, Cyrene.”

“I don’t care.”

“You are mine.”

His kiss landed like a branding iron. She laughed inwardly. Having pushed her into the arms of countless others, he now claimed that no one else could have her.

Areos stroked her cheek before nodding to one of the knights behind him.

‘If he fails, it means killing me.’

Who would she meet in death? Would she remain Areos’s after death, as he claimed? Or would she finally be able to see Illion again?

Cyrene stared at the door as it closed again, leaving the room in a heavy silence.

She found herself hoping that Areos would fail. Only the Emperor could finish him. His mocking words from earlier replayed in her mind and she prayed fervently, desperately.

And as befits a god who had never once granted Cyrene’s wishes, Areos returned effortlessly after killing his father.

Once again, she had to fight beneath his blood-soaked body.

***

As Areos had said countless times, Cyrene became Empress. Not that she had ever intended to ascend the throne in such a manner, but it seemed that such details were of little importance to Areos.

From an illegitimate child with nothing to the position of Empress, Cyrene’s path had been drenched in blood.

Nobles who had opposed her. Those who cried out in outrage, declaring her union improper and incestuous. Those who condemned the Emperor for killing his own father with his own hands.

The stench of blood never left her. Every breath she took carried that metallic tang, so ingrained it seemed it would never fade. The more lives piled up, the more her belly grew. As if feeding on her daily lust for death, the child thrived, growing healthier and healthier.

Even after becoming Empress, Cyrene’s life remained unchanged. The room was different, but that was all. She still did nothing but wait for Areos. She still had to open her legs to receive him, moan for him and then wait for him again.

‘Who could kill him now?’

Cyrene stared blankly, lost in thought. She glanced at Areos lying beside her, but no solutions came to her. Carefully she started to get up from the bed, but his eyes opened.

“Where are you going?”

“I just feel a bit smothered.”

Perhaps it was because she had once tried to kill him, or perhaps because she no longer bothered to hide her hostility. Areos never let his guard down, not even for a moment.

“Just sleep.”

He pushed her back onto the bed. She leaned back obediently against the pillow, her thoughts racing. What should I do? Despite spending so much time with him, the means to kill him seemed further away than ever.

Areos closed his eyes again.

Cyrene blinked slowly, suppressing even her breathing as she watched him fall asleep. Areos had killed his father because of her. Even if Ariel’s death was due to the struggle for the throne, the Marquis Illion Laska, who had committed no crime, had to die as well. Anyone who opposed Cyrene’s background was killed without exception.

Death. His life was one of death.

‘For someone who has caused so many deaths, why does Areos himself remain untouched by it?’

When had it all started? When had his life become so cruel? Her first memory of the smell of blood was the severed finger of the gardener – someone whose name she had long forgotten.

After that, Areos no longer feared blood. Perhaps their meeting had been a mistake all along. Perhaps the others had been right. A relationship that should never have been could only lead to a path drenched in blood.

Cyrene blinked again. Soon the proof of their sins would be born. Even if they were half-siblings, it was still a child born of her and her brother – a child that should never have existed.

She put her hand to her belly and felt the baby move. Once, in her dream, she had found that movement nothing but endearing. The thought made her laugh softly.

‘So many people have already died because of me.’

She had never taken a life with her own hands, but they were still drenched in blood. What was there to fear now? Even if it had been a dream, she had driven a blade into someone’s heart once. Too many heads had rolled for her to mourn another death.

Cyrene stared blankly at her pale hands before clenching them into tight fists. Another thought began to dominate her mind.

***

Even as time passed, the Imperial Palace remained steeped in the stench of blood.

Nobles were executed daily. Servants and maids suffered the same fate.

Cyrene leaned against the windowsill and stared blankly out.

“Mommy.”

The small voice came from a child, perhaps three or four years old, who toddled over to grab the hem of her skirt. Cyrene glanced at the child before turning her gaze back to the view outside.

The child, apparently trying to get her attention again, tugged harder at her skirt but quickly gave up. It was no surprise – she had never been affectionate.

“Cyrene.”

Areo’s deep voice filled the room as he entered. The child’s eyes widened and she ran to her father. He didn’t push the child away, but took her willingly into his arms.

“What are you looking at?”

Instead of answering, Cyrene just stared at him. It had been three years since they had been officially married, but her hatred for Areos was as strong as ever.

It had been a long time since she had last dreamed of Illion. She couldn’t even remember his laughter clearly, it was blurred and fading with time. And yet her fear and loathing of Areos refused to fade.

“They say I’m ruining this Empire.”

“Are there still people who dare say such things?”

“No matter how many you cut down, Your Majesty, it seems you can never completely eradicate them.”

Cyrene said quietly and let out a small sigh.

She stared blankly at his hand as it brushed back the hair of her daughter, who looked so much like her. The child had grown to look almost exactly like Cyrene when Areos had first held her in her arms.

From the moment they had met, everything had gone wrong. If the Emperor had abandoned her then and there, perhaps she should have stayed behind. Would it have been better for her to die with her mother? Or perhaps she should have taken the hand of the nurse she could barely remember and left altogether.

“Even when I try not to listen, I hear it.”

“Kyrene.”

 Areos said, his voice hardening as he called her name.

“Your Majesty. My Emperor.”

She knew only too well what he would do – what he had done countless times before. He would hunt them down: those who criticised their relationship, who spoke of the child that should never have been born, who dared to speak of the cruelty of the Emperor enchanted by the beautiful Cyrene. He would find them all and cut off their heads again.

Dozens, even hundreds of people had already died this way.

But that wasn’t all. Cyrene thought back to what she had done that day.

Areo’s face hardened as he grabbed her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“My Emperor?”

“Tch.”

“How shameless you are, Cyrene.”

She smiled mischievously, a slight curve of her lips. It seemed that her little ‘friendly’ interaction with one of the knights earlier had reached his ears.

“Why the fuss, Your Majesty?”

“You didn’t do it hoping it would come back to me, did you?”

“What could you possibly mean… ah…!”

Before she could finish, his grip tightened and his voice dropped to a menacing growl.

“Go.”

Sensing the dangerous tension between them, the child quickly fled the room.

“What do you want, Cyrene?”

“I… I want you to be jealous.”

She wanted him to be consumed by jealousy of every man. Like the time he stabbed someone just because she had said the word Emperor.

‘That knight must be dead by now too.’

Areo’s jaw clenched and his face hardened.

“How many more do I have to kill before you’re satisfied? Tell me. I’ll do it all at once if I have to.”

“Every last one of them.”

His expression faltered at her words, a mixture of shock and disbelief crossing his features. Cyrene couldn’t hold back her laughter, the sound echoing through the heavy silence.

“You’re out of your mind.”

“You always knew that, didn’t you, Your Majesty? My Emperor. My beloved… ugh, mmh!”

As Areos lifted her skirt, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. His p*nis entered her in one swift motion, sliding easily into the now wet entrance.

After years together, her body had no choice but to get used to his. Cyrene breathed shallowly, clutching his shoulders.

“Ah, ugh, Your Majesty. Ah!”

Words unworthy of an Emperor spilled from his lips. Though both knew their relationship was headed for destruction, Areos neither left her nor did anything to change their course.

“Ugh, mmh…!”

Their lips met. Instead of fighting back, Cyrene wrapped her arms around his neck. As if to swallow every moan she let out, Areos enveloped her completely.

“Haa… ah, ah…”

The room was filled with the sound of her ragged breathing.