She couldn’t recall how she managed to reach the tower. As soon as she heard the message from Banther, her body had moved on its own. She thought she must have run frantically—by the time she opened the door, she was out of breath, her chest heaving.

Mail wrapped her arms around the Emperor, who had buried his face in her embrace. When she saw him crying, it felt as if the ground beneath her had crumbled away.

How could she even describe it? His anguish seeped into her, splitting her heart in two. The only thing she could do was kneel before him and envelop him in her arms.

How long had she held him like that? The Emperor finally lifted his head. To see his face more clearly, Mail lowered herself to meet his gaze.

When their eyes met, his golden irises silently captured her within them. He stared at her for a long time before pulling her into another embrace. This time, it was Mail who found herself held tightly against him.

“Mail.”

“…”

“I’m glad you’re here. Truly.”

“…”

“I’ve never believed in gods, but right now, I think I could.”

In his whispered words, Mail found her own relief. A sigh escaped her lips. She was grateful, too. Grateful that he wasn’t gravely hurt. Grateful that he hadn’t completely broken.

“…I was worried,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“I was so worried. I was terrified—really.”

“I’m fine. I wasn’t, but… I am now. Because you came.”

The warmth of his touch was comforting. Her tears dried, and a sensation other than pain began to fill her chest.

The Emperor glanced down at his wounds. They weren’t healed—not entirely—but he could at least stop the bleeding. That was enough.

Wounds heal with time. The real challenge is enduring the time it takes, but now he felt confident he could.

The Emperor was certain. As long as this warmth stayed by his side, even if the wounds healed only moments before his death, he could endure until then.

From deep within, an emotion too overwhelming to suppress surged upward. He released her from his embrace. As the space between them returned, their eyes met.

The Emperor realized, in that instant, that he could no longer hold back. The emotions brimming inside him demanded release.

He spoke.

“I love you.”

“…”

“I love you very much.”

For the first time, the feelings he had suppressed found form in words and escaped into the air. His heart took shape, floating between them.

Mail froze in surprise. The Emperor smiled. So this is what it feels like. To express your feelings in words—it felt like this.

“I love you.”

In all his life, he had never put so much sincerity into a single word. His chest swelled even more. Speaking his heart didn’t lessen the feeling; instead, it grew even larger.

He didn’t know what else to say. Yet, his emotions continued to overflow. Would repeating the same words over and over lessen the intensity? If he whispered “I love you” until nightfall, would it subside? Everything was new and unique to him, and he didn’t know how to manage it.

“I love you. You’re the first. You once said I had a lover. But that wasn’t true. It was never—”

“I know,” Mail interrupted him. She already knew what he was trying to say. Even without Iseline’s explanation, she had seen the portrait when she entered. It had shaken her to the core. Whatever excuses the Marquis might make, he could not hide his intentions. It was all too obvious whom Iseline had been standing in for.

Instead of responding to that, Mail chose to answer his earlier words.

“I feel the same.”

“…”

“I love you too.”

The Emperor’s eyes widened.

The man who had been overjoyed simply by confessing his feelings now froze, as if overwhelmed by an overload of emotions. His ears, his brain—his senses—struggled to process what he had just heard.

By the time he finally understood, Mail spoke again.

“I love you, Van.”

His golden eyes trembled. A radiant light filled them. He remained frozen for a moment longer. Then, after a pause, his lips parted, and he spoke.

“…Say it again.”

“…”

“Just one more time.”

“I love you.”

At that moment, he exhaled a long breath. His expression vividly displayed his bewilderment, as if he didn’t know what to do. It was a look that couldn’t be described with the simple word joy—as though even he was struggling to define the feelings surging within him.

The Emperor blinked a few times. Of course, Mail didn’t fade or disappear; she was no illusion. Every detail of her—her eyes, her hair—shone so brightly it was almost disorienting. He was speechless. It was a euphoria so overwhelming it felt like she could lift him from any pit of despair and let him walk on clouds.

It was unbearable. He pulled Mail close once more. This time, instead of embracing her, he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Let me kiss you.”

Mail didn’t answer. She simply closed her eyes. Soon, she felt the touch of his lips.

Softly, his lips brushed against hers. A gentle kiss at first, briefly touching and retreating before capturing her upper and lower lips alternately. Then, he parted his lips and delved deeper.

His tongue ventured inside, gliding over her teeth and brushing against the delicate flesh. Whenever Mail flinched in surprise, he would momentarily withdraw, only to return with an even deeper kiss as if nothing had happened. He explored every inch, pressing and caressing sensitive areas.

Mail’s grip on the Emperor’s arm tightened. A small whimper escaped her lips. He paused briefly but then resumed, more persistent this time. Whenever she seemed out of breath, he would pull back for a moment, only to return to her lips again.

Their lips met repeatedly. Just as it seemed to end, he would delve in again. Each time it felt final, he would press forward once more.

In the end, it was Mail who surrendered first. She pushed against his arm, and though reluctant, the Emperor backed away obediently.

“…Such a shame.”

The difference this time was that he didn’t even try to hide his feelings. He openly expressed them, his blunt murmurs and gaze making Mail stop catching her breath and flush crimson.

“My lips hurt.”

“I thought I was being gentle. Wasn’t I?”

“Even gentle taps hurt if they keep coming.”

“Hmm.”

“…What’s that expression?”

“I feel wronged. You said keep coming when I only kissed you once.”

“How could that possibly be… one time…?”

Mail gaped at his miraculous math. Even counting the brief pauses to catch their breath, one hand wouldn’t suffice. How he could consider it one time was beyond her.

“If we kissed multiple times, we’d be at it until morning.”

“Exactly.”

“…”

“Now, I want to ask what that expression means.”

“How did you hold back until now?”

“Good question.”

The Emperor reached out, took Mail’s hand, and brought it to his lips. He kissed her fingers, her knuckles, and her wrist in turn, leaving feather-light touches like a bird pecking. Then he grinned and spoke again.

“It was difficult. I’d call it a feat of sheer endurance.”

Mail’s face flushed red once more. He had found his element. Now that he no longer needed to suppress his feelings, the Emperor was like a fish in water, freely expressing himself without hesitation. The places his lips had touched felt hot, and Mail quickly pulled her hand away.

“I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“That you’ve always been this sly.”

“Me?”

“You’ve always been good at teasing people.”

“Have I?”

Feigning ignorance, the Emperor chuckled softly. It wasn’t that he found something particularly amusing—his laughter seemed to spill out for no reason at all, like someone who couldn’t contain their happiness.

He took Mail’s hand again, holding it still as he began to speak.

“So, now.”

“…”

“Can I believe you won’t leave?”

“…”

“Can I trust that you’ll stay by my side, just as I wish?”

His gaze suggested that if she said otherwise, he might never let go of her hand again.

Mail met his eyes, which were fixed unwaveringly on her. There had been a time when those eyes had caused her pain. His ardent gaze had once made her happy but also resentful.

Not anymore. Like a lie, the pain from those days had faded into oblivion. The emotions reflected in his eyes now simply made her heart flutter. And that fluttering brought only pure joy—unblemished by anything else. She felt genuinely happy. Yes, she thought, happy was the right word.

“I won’t leave.”

“…”

“You can trust me. Even if someone tries to push me away, I won’t leave.”

“I’d like to have that in writing.”

“What?”

“I want it documented so I can stamp it with the royal seal. That way, you can never take it back.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Mail laughed out loud, her smile spreading brightly across her face. At that moment, the Emperor’s heart sank and then began to race rapidly. He barely managed to suppress an impulse, his grip instinctively tightening.

“Still not enough.”

“Huh? What’s not…?”

“I want to kiss you.”

“…”

“I want to kiss you. Right now.”

“That…”

Caught off guard, Mail’s eyes widened in surprise. His words were so direct, so unfiltered, that she wondered for a moment if she’d misheard. Of course, she hadn’t.

When she didn’t respond, the Emperor asked if she disliked the idea. Mail found herself at a loss for words again. Dislike it? How could she? The sweetness of a kiss wasn’t something only the Emperor felt.

The only issue, perhaps, was that her lips still stung from earlier. Avoiding the intense gaze that burned into her skin, Mail lowered her eyes.

“We… just kissed a little while ago.”

“Not enough.”

“Why are you so insatiable?”

“Because being with you makes me this way.”

“Don’t push the blame onto me.”

“I’m just being honest.”

Her attempt to look away was in vain; the Emperor tilted his head downward to meet her gaze. Mail let out a small sound of distress, a dry gulp following unbidden.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“You’re the one making me keep talking about it.”

“Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“Yes.”

“…You’re shameless.”

“If I’m shameless, does that mean I can kiss you?”

How does it always come to that conclusion? Mail’s mouth fell open in disbelief before she quickly shut it again. His gaze, so direct and filled with intent, felt almost scorching.

Had he always been like this? Now that she thought about it, he probably had. The object of his focus might have changed, but his persistence was nothing new.

Mail recalled the question she’d asked herself earlier: How had he managed to hold back until now?

“If I say no, will you give up?”

“If you say you don’t want to.”

“I don’t dislike it, but what if I say no?”

“If you don’t dislike it, is there a reason to say no?”

“I told you my lips hurt.”

For someone who seemed to only charge ahead, he paused at her words. His golden eyes stayed fixed on her, quietly observing. Then he asked,

“Really?”

“…What do you mean?”

“Do they really hurt?”

“And if they do?”

“I’ll reflect on my actions.”

His unexpectedly compliant response caught Mail off guard, and she blinked. He wasn’t just saying it, either; his expression softened, almost subdued. Good grief. After being so insistent about wanting a kiss, he now looked dejected and ready to reflect simply because she said her lips hurt.

If this was some sort of calculated move, it was masterful. Mail, already smitten, found the sight of him endearing, and her resolve melted.

She lowered her head slightly. Their lips met in a fleeting touch. Though it ended quickly, the contact had undeniably occurred. The Emperor’s eyes widened momentarily at the surprise kiss, and then he spoke with a hint of disappointment.

“If you mean for this to be enough…”

“Who said that?”

Still embarrassed, Mail averted her gaze even as she replied.

The Emperor processed her words, and the moment their meaning became clear, his expression shifted entirely. The dejection was gone as though it had never been. He immediately grasped both of Mail’s hands, pressing them gently to the ground.

“You can’t take it back.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

Her words were swallowed mid-sentence. The Emperor didn’t wait. He captured her lips again.

Though it seemed hurried, his kiss was gentle. The sweetness and warmth of it were almost maddening, making Mail close her eyes once more.