The gap in their understanding was probably due to the fact that this man still saw her as his wife. He had made that clear countless times, in bed and out. She’d heard it so often that it was ingrained in her mind, but she still couldn’t understand why Atlion continued to think of her as his wife.

When they were reunited for the first time, she could understand. After all, on the day she had fled, she had literally just run away. But she had told him clearly that she was no longer his wife… and yet here they were.

That was the truth. The reason she hadn’t spoken of divorce outright was because she believed that he, too, must have understood how pathetic and meaningless their marriage had been – a marriage born of a proposal she had begged for.

Even his lieutenants, his cousin and his siblings had mocked it as such. A meaningless marriage. Nothing about the ceremony had followed proper customs. And so the child was labelled a bastard… because it wasn’t a marriage fit for royalty. There was no reason to recognise it.

“That… that’s not what matters right now.”

“No. That is what matters. Did you sleep with him?”

His hardened face was now sharp, his gaze piercing. Swan didn’t look away but met his eyes head-on.

A sudden shiver ran through her. Despite the intensity in his fiery gaze, the man carefully lifted her from the tub and dried her with a towel. He even wrapped a blanket around her himself, tending to her with an odd calm before sitting her back down on the bed.

“I’ll ask you again.”

His voice was calm, but full of tension.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“…”

“Swan.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Swan turned her head away, shifting her gaze slightly to the side. Staring at his defiant wife, Atlion pulled her onto his lap. He had expected resistance, but she fell into his embrace without a struggle. He stroked the edge of her ear that peeked through her damp hair and breathed in her faintly sweet scent.

“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Even though I told you I don’t have anyone else but you?”

“And what does that have to do with me? Why should I care about your purity?”

Her eyes, cast down, shot up to meet his, fiery and angry. Atlion’s hand, which had been lightly tracing the edge of her ear, slid down and between her legs. Swan twisted her hips in protest, glaring daggers at him as his hand entered, pressing against her cl*t.

“Mm…”

“Why doesn’t it matter? Do you like the idea of your husband rolling around with another woman instead of you?”

“That’s not… Ahh!”

“Swan.”

The finger that had pressed against her circled her cl*t, sending jolts of sensation through her body. The pressure of his muscular thighs held her in place. Despite her freshly cleansed state, it felt as if moisture was starting to leak from her again. Swan tried to stifle her gasps, but failed, and let out a frustrated groan as she raked her nails sharply across the back of his hand.

“Stop! Don’t do this!”

Her scream accompanied her efforts to push him away. Atlion stopped his hand and leaned down to kiss the scarred nape of her neck. Swan twisted her shoulders in an attempt to push him away, but finally gave up, drained of strength.

“Speak.”

“About what?”

“Anything.”

“Ah…”

His tongue trailed along her collarbone, gliding up to the underside of her chin and into the hollow of her throat. It was as if he wanted to cover the woman he had just washed and cleaned with his saliva once more, to devour her with a ravenous intensity. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the time they’d been apart.

This wasn’t the man she remembered. Not like this.

“Your Majesty, why… why are you doing this?”

“Why what…?”

“You didn’t even like me.”

Atlion, who had been concentrating on licking her skin, stopped and raised his head. Without hesitation, he reached for her br*ast, his touch firm and familiar, before collapsing onto the bed and burying his face in her damp hair.

“What happened to you?”

She asked softly, her voice tinged with both curiosity and concern.

“What happened, you ask?”

The man who had buried his face in the cascade of her dishevelled hair, sniffed deeply and turned his gaze to Swan.

“I ascended the throne.”

His voice was flat, almost indifferent. But when the subject turned to his brother, his expression subtly twisted with displeasure.

“I had originally planned to leave Calyps as he was. But then I realised that if he became Emperor, he’d start meddling in my affairs. He never had any real interest in the throne. It was clear to me from an early age that the responsibility of succession would fall to me. Calyps is naturally optimistic – music, theatre, everything outside the palace, that’s what he’s passionate about. But when I disappeared, he stepped in as Emperor.”

“What he wanted most was for me to marry properly and produce an heir as soon as possible. It wasn’t for my sake – it was so that I could take the throne and allow him to roam freely outside the palace and do as he pleased.”

His blue eyes, which had been drifting aimlessly, finally landed on Swan. She looked at him for a moment, then her thoughts turned to his brother.

A man who had never seen her as a person.

His cousin had also looked at her as if she were something dirty, as if her very presence was offensive. Swan had thought she’d gotten used to it, but the memory still chilled her to the bone.

He was the kind of man who would casually dismiss her child and her place in the world as if they were insignificant. Not even a dog would be given away so carelessly. To him, Swan and Una had been worth less than a pet.

“And so?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so cold, but the bitterness slipped out, sharp and unrestrained.

“Swan.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

As he said, he was the Emperor now. And as Emperor, he couldn’t have someone like her as his wife. The same was true for their child.

“Come back with me.”

“Where to?”

“You are my wife. You belong to me.”

“And what about Una?”

If she went back, what would happen to Una? The thought filled her with fear. Even the word ‘back’ felt strange – where exactly would she go back to? Could the Imperial Palace really be a place she could ‘return’ to? A place she had never belonged to, never seen, never known? Her mind went blank. The thought of losing her child made her stomach churn. Swan bit her lip.

“I told you not to use that name for my child.”

She stood, overcome with frustration, and met his gaze. Atlion also rose, gripping her shoulders tightly.

“Did you give her that name to erase me from her life?”

“I was trying to start over.”

“You…”

“She’s not your child, Your Majesty. She’s mine and Theo’s child.”

His face turned icy, his expression piercing. Swan didn’t back down, holding his gaze. If she wanted to escape, she would have to convince him somehow.

“This is how I want to raise her. That’s how she should grow up, Your Majesty…”

“So you expect me to let my daughter grow up hidden away in this remote countryside?”

“It’s a good place.”

Swan replied, her voice calm.

“The people there are kind. Theo is a good man. He truly loves Una-no, his child.”

“And you want me to tolerate him for that?”

His voice was deep, but sharp as a blade. Swan clamped her mouth shut. He was like an impenetrable wall of ice, utterly unyielding. Avoiding his piercing gaze, she turned her head slightly. Apparently displeased by her evasive gesture, Atlion bit her upper lip.

The sharp pain made Swan instinctively try to push him away, but his lips pressed harder, trapping her in a sticky kiss. His breath mingled with hers and his grip tightened around her wrists, leaving no room for escape. She let out a shaky gasp at the unwelcome sensation pressing against her thighs.

“Ahh…!”

“Live as my wife.”

He murmured, breaking the entwined kiss. There was a languid, commanding tone to his voice.

Swan stared at him with desperate eyes, her expression twisted with discomfort. His beautiful face was marred by an unsettling intensity that cast a shadow over his otherwise chiseled features.

The man, who had been silently watching Swan’s labored breathing, leaned down and pressed his lips to her trembling chest. Two and a half years – it had been that long. A vast, distant time he had spent trying to erase her from his heart, to erase her from his memory. Now it felt as if all those efforts had been undone and that time had returned.

***

Morning came. A maid briskly drew back the curtains, letting bright sunlight into the room, causing Swan to squint as her eyes burned from the brightness. She lifted a hand to rub her eyelids. A faint sound brushed against her ears, jolting her awake. Swan jumped to her feet and glanced at the crumpled sheets beside her, the residual warmth seeping through her fingertips.

Still groggy, Swan looked at the women lined up before her. Their solemn faces, their hair elegantly pinned up, their velvet dresses revealing their cleavage, struck her immediately. They were adorned with bright, ornate jewellery and their stern eyes bore into her.

They were not maids. No maid would ever wear such attire.

Suddenly, she realized she was completely bare beneath the covers. Flustered, she quickly grabbed the blanket to cover her br*ast and hunched her shoulders in embarrassment.

“I respectfully greet Countess Cattleya. I am Adelaide of the Pantheon.”