“Where are you looking?”

Hendrick seized her chin in a sudden grip. At once, her gaze collided with his pitch-black eyes.

“You’re always standing there, acting superior and pretending to obey me. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you’re just waiting for this moment to pass?”

Selaia could sense how volatile he was, as though he might explode at any moment. At times like this, she knew there was only one approach she could take. Without hesitation, she met his gaze with clear, unflinching eyes.

“That could never be true, Hendrick.”

Under the dim light, her green eyes shone more softly than usual. As Hendrick met her gaze, his sharp edge began to dull. He was always weak against Selaia’s eyes, which were the same shade as Carsteen’s.

“Damn it…”

Staggering, Hendrick collapsed back onto the sofa. For a long while, he said nothing, then finally opened his mouth again.

“Carsteen was quite impressed with you. As ridiculous as it may seem, she often talked about you to me. Do you realize how inappropriate it is for a concubine to talk about the Empress?”

“…”

“Maybe everything in my life went wrong the moment I married you…”

Flushed as though drunk, he ran his hand repeatedly across his reddened face before waving it dismissively.

“Fill the glass. We’ll finish the whole bottle before you go.”

Hendrick unleashed a torrent of complaints, some of which were so sensitive that they could have been classified as state secrets.

Selaia responded with little more than vague, conciliatory remarks, frequently glancing towards the parlor door. Much to her relief, the shadow lurking outside had already disappeared without trace.

Finally, once Hendrick had finished the bottle, he staggered to his feet. Selaia pulled the bell cord, summoning the emperor’s guards who were standing by instead of a maid.

“Soon, the South will grow noisy. It’s best to sew the mouths shut of those fools who keep giving orders…”

Muttering under his breath, Hendrick shrugged into the thick fur coat that Selaia had draped over his shoulders. She pretended not to hear him, released his hand, and opened the door.

Standing there was Haider. Recognising him, Hendrick gave a careless nod.

“You’ll come up to the capital as well. Your father complained he was beginning to forget your face.”

“…Yes.”

When Haider saw Selaia, he hesitated briefly before bowing his head. Protecting her safety could not take precedence over Hendrick’s command.

“Then, until next time.”

Leaving behind a promise no one wanted, Hendrick climbed into the carriage and departed.

“Ha…”

Watching the carriage vanish into the distance, Selaia let out a sigh and turned back. Elaine and Vera had come out after her.

“My lady, are you all right?”

“We heard several loud voices again this time.”

“Where’s Rote?”

Although they both looked at her with concern, it was Selaia who asked about Rote’s well-being first.

“The young lady is fine. She’s asleep in her room now. But…”

“But?”

“A little while ago, she asked me to bring her some warm milk. While I was gone, she slipped away to find Mr. Laska…”

Selaia fell silent. So that was why he had come downstairs to the first floor. Had Rote said something to him?

‘This wasn’t how I wanted him to see me.’

Did he realize that Hendrick was the Emperor?

Selaia wondered. She couldn’t know how long he had been watching, nor how the situation might have looked to him. But one thing was certain—what he had seen could not have been normal.

“I’ll go speak with him myself.”

After reassuring Elaine and Vera, Selaia made her way to the guestroom where Laska was staying.

Of course, the lamp inside was still lit. Seeing the light spilling faintly into the dark corridor, Selaia pressed her thumb firmly against her brow. Even after a long afternoon nap, she still felt exhausted.

“Mr. Laska.”

Selaia stood before the door and called to him softly. After a moment, the door creaked open.

With the light behind him, the man’s imposing figure loomed even larger and his expression was impossible to read as he looked at her.

“May I come in for a moment?”

“…That’s the very same question Miss Rote asked me.”

There was a hint of humour in his reply, as if he were trying to lighten the mood. Noticing this, Selaia allowed herself a faint smile.

She stepped inside through the space Laska had created by stepping back. He left the door open and turned to look back at her.

“Well then…”

“I…”

The two of them spoke at the same time. As they stood in silence, their eyes locked. It was Laska who finally broke it.

“Actually… from the conversation I unintentionally overheard earlier, I’ve made a rough guess.”

‘No way.’

Selaia swallowed dryly.

Had he realized that Hendrick was the emperor and that she was his ex-wife?

As she carefully searched his expression, Laska spoke in a grave tone.

“It’s your ex-husband. He still has lingering feelings for you, doesn’t he, my lady?”

“…What?”

Caught completely off guard, Selaia repeated the words blankly.

“I don’t know much about anything else, but I do know a thing or two about matters of the heart. I think you’ve probably guessed as much yourself.”

Laska narrowed his handsome eyes slightly.

Indeed, he was the kind of man who might be caught up in a scandalous love affair whispered about in society. Not that it was something he should be saying about himself.

Selaia’s expression was uncertain; she was unsure how to respond. Laska paid it no mind.

“He comes to you late at night, promises to prepare a residence for you in the capital… Those are clear signs of lingering attachment. Of course, I’m not trying to defend the way he expresses it.”

“Uh… surely not.”

After all, he had never even shown real interest in her to begin with.

Still half dazed, Selaia managed to reply. But Laska, certain of himself, went on.

“I don’t know exactly what he does, but no matter how wealthy a man is, he wouldn’t go to the extent of setting up a house for someone he doesn’t care about. Judging by your ex-husband, I doubt he’s the type to engage in charity or philanthropy either.”

“Mm… that much is true.”

Her voice carried the faintest trace of a laugh as Selaia nodded slowly.

“All right. I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

Not that agreeing with him would change anything.

Selaia found the whole situation rather amusing; it was almost as if she were receiving romantic advice from him. The tension from moments before now seemed like a dream.

“You look a bit better now. I’m glad.”

Hearing the note of relief in his voice, Selaia lifted her gaze. Laska was smiling at her, his expression warm and kind.

‘…He was trying, in his own way, to ease my heart.’

They weren’t close enough for him to offer deep comfort, but neither could he ignore her entirely. His banter from earlier—it had been his way of showing care.

Only then did Selaia realise this.

‘Fortunately, it seems that wealthy man—who is far from charitable—didn’t realize Hendrick was the Emperor.’

If he hadn’t realized who Hendrik really was, explaining things would be much easier. The tension that had kept Selaia’s shoulders rigid slowly eased away. Perhaps noticing this, Laska fell briefly silent before speaking again.

“And… truthfully, I should have said this first.”

“You can speak freely, Mr. Laska.”

As Selaia nodded with a calm expression, Laska’s lips twitched slightly, and then his well-shaped mouth slowly parted.

“I’m sorry for not helping, even when I saw how troubled you were.”

“Ah…”

The unexpected apology widened Selaia’s eyes. Laska bowed his head a little, running his hand awkwardly through his brilliant blond hair.

“Miss Rote seemed to hope I would do something… but it didn’t feel like a situation I could step into recklessly, so I held back.”

At last, the picture became clear. That child, Rote, must have thought a mercenary like Laska could overcome Hendrick, and so had gone to him for help. In the end, it had all been done out of concern for her.

“Mr. Laska.”

When Selaia called out, Laska lifted his head. She smiled, her expression now slightly lighter.

“Thank you, but you really don’t need to worry so much. This is just an event that happens once every season. You can think of it as a kind of ritual to ward off bad luck.”

“Pardon?”

At his puzzled look, Selaia chose her words carefully.

“The man you just saw is the very embodiment of misfortune in my life. A disaster I cannot escape, no matter how clearly I see him for what he is… But disasters pass eventually, don’t they?”

In the darkness, Laska’s clear eyes trembled faintly.

To Selaia, he was nothing more than a fleeting calamity. Holding fast to that belief, her expression finally grew calm, touched with quiet serenity.