Chapter 109: Prepare the Funeral

“The Crown Prince—”

Damian lightly gestured to the maid who was about to inform the Emperor. Understanding his meaning, she immediately closed her lips and opened the door.

The stifling air inside the churning bedroom was hot enough to choke. Smoke rising slowly from the censer on the nightstand wavered shapelessly as it drifted toward the ceiling.

In the midst of that fog-like smoke, the Emperor was seated against the head of the bed. The royal physician carefully placed a hand on the Emperor’s wrist.

“Get it away!”

But the Emperor swatted that hand away harshly, as if driving off an insect. His gesture was sharp, but it lacked strength.

“Your Majesty. The inflammation is worsening. Your coughs have increased, which likely means your lungs—” The royal physician responded with a troubled expression, then bowed and stepped aside as he glanced at Damian.

Damian stepped forward toward the Emperor.

“What is it?”

“……I’ve brought the blue rose.”

Damian opened the glass bottle and took out the white rose. Brushed with a dawn-hued blue dye, it appeared to be a perfect ‘blue rose’ on the surface.

The Emperor’s gaze landed on Damian’s fingertips. His eyes, dulled by fatigue and irritation, sharpened faintly with curiosity.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen a blue rose in person. Charlotte used to take this regularly too, didn’t she?”

“…..Yes.”

Since her death, it was the first time the Emperor mentioned Charlotte. Yet not a trace of emotion was present in his voice.

It sounded more like he was calculating how much longer he could live if he took the blue rose.

In the depths of Damian’s blue eyes, something fierce flickered.

‘Brother! Let’s go make flower crowns together!’

Charlotte’s innocent voice, chirping away, seemed to echo faintly in his ears.

“Then why did she die? The Crown Princess must’ve kept giving them to her.”

“……At the time, Her Highness was pregnant and physically weakened, so Charlotte refused to take the blue roses.”

“Each time a blue rose blooms, it shares part of one’s lifespan. Perhaps she disliked that.”

The Emperor’s brows furrowed. Then, he curved his lips into a faint smile.

“Your words carry thorns.”

“……”

“You’ve been keeping the Crown Princess close, so I’ll overlook it.”

A short silence followed, broken only by voices. The Emperor chuckled lowly. But the laughter didn’t last long.

A deep, violent cough burst from his chest.

He clutched his chest and snatched the glass bottle from Damian’s hand, pulling out the white rose. The petals crumpled between his wrinkled fingers.

The moment he brought it to his lips—

The white rose slipped from his hand with a soft thud.

A few petals drifted slowly in the air as the flower fell lifelessly to the floor.

And then, a strange sound repeated.

From the corner of the Emperor’s mouth, thick, dark blood—almost like rotting water—began to pour.

“Kh… kuh… ka—!”

His spine arched violently in spasm. Dry cracking sounds echoed from his joints.

“Y-Your Majesty!”

The Emperor’s eyes were already half-hardened, twisting with emptiness.

“…Ugh…hurgh…”

His hand clenched over his heart, trembling uncontrollably.

Even breathing seemed too painful. He could no longer hold himself upright, swaying unsteadily.

Damian sensed it clearly—the Emperor was dying.

He recalled Empress Anastasia’s final words. The message she asked him to deliver the day the Emperor died.

“Her Majesty Empress Anastasia said… she never loved you. That the love you gave was horrific and vile.”

“……”

He uttered her last wish: that even in death, the Emperor would find no peace.

“How does it feel… to have been played for decades?”

Thud!

There was no response. Only the loud crash of the Emperor’s body hitting the floor.

Damian hoped he’d heard every word.

The frantic royal physician rushed in and tried to prop him up.

The Emperor’s body slumped in the doctor’s arms, eyes unclosed. Burst blood vessels filled them with an eerie chill.

The physician’s body shook violently. Checking his wrist, he opened his mouth.

“Th-The Emperor—”

“….”

“Has passed away……”

Damian slowly bent down to where the white rose had fallen. He picked up a blood-stained petal with care.

“……Prepare the funeral.”

His voice was quiet and cold, like a blade scraping across stone.

The Emperor’s body, collapsed at Damian’s feet, had already lost its warmth.

Faced with the scene, Damian felt no grief.

It was almost laughable. His father was dead, yet he felt nothing.

The mourning and compassion a son might naturally possess… they simply didn’t exist in him.

His heart beat with eerie calm. He was filled with nothing but emptiness.

Could someone like him truly raise Gloria? Could he really build a life with Edelweiss?

Would he someday leave her in loneliness?

The memory of Edelweiss in tears burned clearly in his mind.

Self-loathing pressed deep into his chest, sinking heavy and immovable. It dragged him further into the abyss.

And yet.

Edelweiss.

Her smile, her warm presence, her gentle breath—

They swept through Damian’s barren emotions in an instant, soaking into him.

Suddenly, he found himself aching to see her.

***

Edelweiss slowly closed her eyes, then opened them again as she held Gloria in her arms.

The baby’s tiny breath tickled her neck.

Gloria fussed on and off, clearly sleepy. Edelweiss gently patted her back and walked by the window.

Gloria squirmed slightly, her lips puckering.

“Lara. If you’re sleepy, why won’t you sleep?”

“…Mmm.”

“Who could our baby be waiting for, hmm?”

At the sound of the door opening, Edelweiss instinctively looked toward it.

Damian entered the room, his face darker than when he had gone to see the emperor.

She wondered if she should’ve stopped him from going.

Gloria’s face lit up the moment she saw him.

“Papa!”

Her tiny mouth opened as she called out, eyes shining.

Damian blinked slowly, recognizing the word.

With a soft smile, Edelweiss handed Gloria over to him.

“…”

Unlike usual, he didn’t immediately reach out his hands—

But eventually, he slowly extended his arms and took Gloria into them.

“Looks like Lara was waiting for you. She was resisting sleep even though she was clearly tired.”

“…”

In his arms, Gloria rubbed her forehead against Damian’s arm.

Watching the scene, Edelweiss could see it clearly—

The deep affection in his eyes as he gently stroked Gloria’s hair.

“…She’s ugly.”

The words spilled out awkwardly, a poor attempt to hide his emotion.

Edelweiss feigned a stern face.

“Gloria looks like me. So are you saying I’m ugly, too?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Must be nice to have an ugly wife and daughter.”

Caught off guard, Damian looked flustered and speechless.

His lips moved as if trying to explain but stopped.

Edelweiss used the moment to turn her back to him.

She couldn’t help teasing—she was curious how he’d respond.

“…Now that I look closer, Gloria does resemble me more. See? Her eye color is the same as mine.”

Trying to suppress her laughter, Edelweiss lowered her head.

Just as Damian reached out to gently turn her by the shoulder, their eyes met.

He looked startled, thinking she might really be angry.