Chapter 4: The Captured Empress (6)

As expected, Larie reluctantly nodded. Terian forced himself to focus only on the fact that the words from her small lips hadn’t been a refusal.

Still, even as they walked through the palace halls, the pounding rain seemed to follow them.

They arrived shortly after at the study, where a faint scent of age and paper lingered in the air.

The circular room’s most striking feature was its walls, lined with books all the way up to the high ceiling. In the center, plush sofas arranged in a circle invited quiet conversation or thought.

Above the circle, just like in the dining hall, was a skylight shaped like the Lake of Blessings. It seemed this motif was often used in private royal spaces—an unmistakable symbol of the crown.

As she stepped through the arched doorway, Larie felt overwhelmed by the space’s perfection. The sacred lake, the Emperor’s private study—each felt like a reminder of how out of place she was in this world.

Yet the familiar scent of old books made it easier to breathe. And the steady sound of rain tapping against the glass brought an unexpected sense of peace.

Unlike her brother, who had received every benefit the family could offer, Larie had never been granted a proper education. She had been taught just enough etiquette not to shame the family in public. Books had always felt like a distant world to her.

Perhaps that was why she found herself a little enchanted. Her hand itched to reach toward one of the shelves, the books so high they seemed just out of reach.

“Do you like it?”

Startled, Larie turned. Terian had spoken quietly beside her, clearly having caught her mesmerized gaze roaming the study.

It was only then that Larie realized his gaze had been resting on her face.

“It’s a beautiful place.”

She quickly masked her expression and offered a polite remark. It wasn’t an empty compliment—there was a distinct dignity to a space that had served generations of emperors.

What surprised her, however, was Terian himself.

“You may come anytime you like.”

She couldn’t understand why he would make such an offer so casually.

Beside the sofa, the side table was strewn with strategic maps and documents—sensitive materials meant for the heart of the imperial palace. Nothing about them seemed suitable for someone like her, a Tromperie.

Worried such a gesture might lead to misunderstanding, she hesitated before politely declining.

“…That’s alright.”

Why was he so willing to offer such things to her?

Suppressing the creeping unease as she always did, Larie managed to keep her tone even.

“Let’s spend a little time together. Is there a book you’d like to read?”

As if he hadn’t heard her refusal, Terian gently led her further inside. Larie wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave the study behind, but for now, she followed.

This made the third time. As promised, once Terian had spent time with her three times a day, he never pushed her further that day.

She just needed to endure a little longer.

“I’ll read whatever you recommend.”

“…Is that so.”

Larie lowered her gaze and came to a quiet stop, careful not to glance at the documents spread across the table. She knew she likely wouldn’t understand them anyway, but she was tired of being misunderstood.

Terian stopped beside her—and then, suddenly, moved closer.

With the shortened distance came his familiar scent, cutting through the smell of old books. His hair fell gently toward her, soft and close, as if collapsing over her.

It was familiar—too familiar. Something she had long forgotten now enveloped her again.

Larie instinctively held her breath, unsure of why her chest had gone so tight.

He casually wrapped one arm around her waist, as if escorting her. It wasn’t until she had taken a few steps with him that Larie realized how overly intimate the gesture was.

“Please, have a seat.”

Terian’s low voice came as he guided her to a sofa deeper inside. Wanting to end this strange closeness, Larie quickly sat where he gestured.

But once seated, she realized she was facing the door—an almost upper seat in the circular room—and was just about to move when Terian returned with two books in hand.

“These are books that’ve become gossip fodder in the social circles lately.”

She didn’t particularly like the mention of high society, but she glanced at the book spines anyway.

In Mourning of the Forgotten Ones and Resource Exploration Studies—two books that looked laughably mismatched at a glance.

Whether fortunately or not, Terian handed her the more ornate one, In Mourning of the Forgotten Ones, its cover decorated with elegant, antique patterns.

Then, holding the other book himself, he naturally seated himself on the opposite sofa, his back to the door.

“You’re free to choose something else if you’d like.”

“I’ll just read this.”

The things he offered her each day all had one thing in common—they made no sense.

Still not used to his eccentricities, Larie gently ran her hand over the surface of the book. It looked untouched—brand new—and she wondered if she was really allowed to read it.

But once she opened the cover, she was surprised by how quickly the content pulled her in.

—Called back by the divine, the mythical beings have left this world for good. In this book, the author hopes to preserve a sense of reverence and sorrow for those gradually forgotten.

She had only meant to pass the time, but that thought soon faded. Before she knew it, she was absorbed in the book.

Fortunately, from the time of her debut, it had become fashionable for women to receive some degree of education. And Larie had learned enough to appreciate what she now read.

—A nymph loved by nature, a giant who enjoyed crouching in mountain ranges, a dwarf with skillful hands.

Who did you most wish to meet when you were young? For the author, it was the giant. The strength granted by nature took many forms, and rather than the moody nymphs known for their fickle tempers, the author found the steadfast giants more…

The book described mythical beings that had departed from this land. It compiled anecdotes and tales passed down through generations.

It was the kind of gossip noble society would love, so it was no surprise it had become a hot topic.

“Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you read before, my lady. Is reading not to your taste?”

A deep voice snapped Larie out of her trance. Startled, she quickly lifted her gaze as if nothing was wrong.

Terian, holding a book that looked just as stiff and difficult as ever, was resting his head on one hand, eyes calmly fixed on her.

“…No, not really…”

It wasn’t a lie. Other than now, Larie had never had the luxury to sit down and read peacefully.

“I see.”

As if he hadn’t expected much of an answer, Terian returned his eyes to his book.

With one hand holding his book and the other supporting his chin, he remained still. Larie watched him for a moment, then turned her attention back to her pages.

—Two great heroes! Among them, Countess Ventus’s might is often spoken of as divine blessing. In the past, all women who displayed such power were said to be touched by gods. This, too, may soon vanish along with the rest of the mythical race.

How much time had passed?

Larie had read through most of the book, devouring the tales of legendary beings as if under a spell. When she turned another page, she saw:

—But the author suspects that Countess Ventus may in fact be of mixed blood—a descendent of a mythical being…

“…Ugh.”

A pained groan sounded from across the room.

As she quickly lifted her head, she saw that Terian had fallen asleep, slouched against the sofa. The book he’d been holding lay carelessly dropped on his lap.

Was he having a nightmare? In the library filled only with the sound of rain, his brows were deeply furrowed, and beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead.

Without realizing it, Larie stood up and walked toward him. She instinctively reached out a hand to wipe away the sweat from his brow—but stopped short.

“……”

Thinking again, she realized he probably wouldn’t like her touching him. Her gaze fell to his hands, always gloved since their reunion.

Letting out a faint sigh, Larie began to pull her hand back.

“…Ugh!”

Suddenly, a strong grip seized her wrist. Shocked, she tried to step back, but the force wouldn’t allow her.

Was he angry? Alarmed, Larie looked quickly into his face.

Their eyes met—those vivid blue eyes twisted in pain.

And then he said something unexpected.

“Don’t go, my lady.”

“……”

His rough voice was desperate—like a man drowning, gasping for air.

The atmosphere in the library shifted, trembling under the weight of those words. Holding her breath without meaning to, Larie froze.

His grip didn’t loosen. Meeting that intense gaze, she instinctively took a step—not toward the door, but toward the sofa behind her.

Maybe it was because she didn’t move in the direction of escape. Only then did Terian’s grip gradually slacken. Larie felt the strength in her legs give out too.

Only a few paces away, she nearly collapsed back into the sofa.

Her heart pounded wildly, loud enough to drown out the rain battering the roof above.

“……”

After all that, Terian had somehow fallen asleep again.

As if it had all been a sleepwalker’s trance.

Her fingertips tingled strangely. Only after a moment did she realize the spot where he had grabbed her wrist was burning hot.

A sudden urge to bolt from the library surged through her.

But Terian’s voice echoed again in the room, like a phantom. The round space made the sound seem to spin in place, looping back to her.

After a moment of hesitation, Larie reached for the book she’d set down.

She was simply curious about what happened next in the book she’d found so interesting earlier. That was all—nothing more.

“……”

But the pages that had once drawn her in so easily now refused to be read.

Every thought she tried to suppress rebounded—like raindrops bouncing off the ground. It happened again and again, each time his chest, rising and falling steadily like a sculpture in repose, caught her eye.

Did he truly hate her?

It was a question she had carefully avoided ever since coming to the palace.

But now… she could no longer ignore it.