“His Imperial Majesty of Helvern.”

Perhaps this was what it would feel like if a divine messenger entered the hall. Some noblewomen, forgetting their manners, covered their gaping mouths. A couple even dropped their fans.

His platinum blonde hair shone as brightly as the sun, even under artificial lighting. Beneath the neatly combed hair, his smooth forehead and perfectly chiseled features naturally drew the attention of others.

Despite being clothed, his muscular frame, the result of rigorous training, was still somewhat visible. And there was no need to mention his deep, molten-gold eyes—the final touch of perfection.

One of the noblewomen standing near Mail couldn’t endure it and staggered slightly.

“Haa… I want to be the mother of twins who look just like His Majesty.”

Mail, having unintentionally overheard the noblewoman’s muttered words due to their proximity, was startled.

‘Wow, she’s thinking way ahead.’

The emperor, who had entered with great impact, soon walked leisurely to the prepared throne and sat down. His guard knights stood reverently on either side of him, their presence as natural as if they had been born for that role.

Watching this, Mail suddenly recalled her recent private audience.

“Since you’ve seen me, you must have felt something. Let’s hear it.”

Yes, that happened. At the time, she found it slightly underwhelming, but seeing him now, her impression had changed—an emperor is still an emperor. Just by sitting there, he exuded an aura that naturally commanded the room. It was as if he ruled effortlessly, simply by existing.

‘Even the guards standing beside him seem to emanate loyalty. There’s no way the imperial power is weak… So, is the consort selection really the emperor’s will?’

As she pondered, Mail tilted her head, remembering the nightmare that had plagued her twice.

In her dreams, the emperor had been enraged by the death of his lover. He didn’t seem like a war-crazed murderer, but the fact that he had personally led an army and turned an entire nation into a sea of flames showed just how great his anger must have been.

The emperor must not have been in his right mind. At least half of him must have gone mad. If so, it meant that this lover was a deeply cherished person to him.

‘Then why hold a empress selection when he has someone so precious? Or… will one of the candidates become his lover in the future?’

Mail suddenly realized she was jumping to conclusions. There was no guarantee that her dream was connected to reality. She couldn’t assume that the emperor in reality had a cherished lover, just because it was so in the dream. He might not have one, and might never have one.

‘Whether one will appear in the future or not is another matter, but it would be nice to know if there’s one already… Is there any way to find out…? Oh!’

Mail snapped her fingers as an idea popped into her head. That master!

The person whose title had instantly elevated from “that guy” to “master” had made her a promise in the garden yesterday. If she could correctly identify a flower by its sprout, he would answer her questions about the emperor. Any question, about anything.

And Mail had correctly named the flower. This meant she could now claim the promised question.

She silently clenched her fist. Yes! At the time, she wasn’t sure how to use it, but now it was going to come in handy. Internally, she thanked her “master.”

‘Thank you, master. Thanks for selling out the emperor for me. You’re always there when I’m in a pinch. But, where are you right now?’

Mail tilted her head, wondering about his whereabouts. Since she had decided to acknowledge him as her master, she hadn’t seen him again.

She had visited the garden a couple more times, but either he had been busy, or their schedules hadn’t aligned. Of course, only a day had passed, so it was a little embarrassing to start wondering where he was already.

‘I hope I can see him by tomorrow morning… Huh?’

Deep in thought, Mail raised her eyes, only to freeze for a moment. It felt like her gaze had met someone’s—just for an instant. It was… the emperor. It seemed as though he had been looking in her direction.

‘Was that my imagination?’

Mail tilted her head in confusion. The emperor was now looking elsewhere, almost as if he were gazing off into the distance. From her perspective, his face was turned more to the side than directly toward her.

Maybe it was just a feeling. Whether their eyes had met or not wasn’t really important. Imagination or not, it didn’t matter.

Just then…

“It seems everyone has gathered. Let me introduce myself first. I am Marhim Bolthen.”

At some point, a nobleman came forward and introduced himself. It seemed he had been seated there even before the candidates had gathered in the hall.

Having unintentionally become invisible for a while due to the emperor, once he revealed himself, it was surprisingly hard to look away from him. He had a striking presence.

A mustache.

He was sporting an absurd mustache that made it impossible for anyone who accidentally glanced at him to look away.

“Ridiculous…”

Someone muttered in a low voice. Mail slightly agreed.

The nobleman, who introduced himself as Marhim Bolthen—but for some reason, a name like *Mangtsch Mustache* seemed more fitting—casually stroked his mustache, indifferent to the murmurs around him.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed he had even applied oil to it, clearly cherishing and grooming it with great care. Whether he was oblivious to the visual pollution he was causing or simply ignoring it, he continued speaking calmly.

“Since I’ve told you my name, I should also mention my position. I’ve been appointed by His Majesty as the chief overseer of the Empress selection process. Let me reintroduce myself. I am Marquis Marhim Bolthen, the chief in charge of the selection.”

“Chief overseer?”

“That musta… that nobleman?”

“Oh my.”

The marquis’ words caused a stir. Even if his name were forgotten, his mustache would surely be remembered. To everyone’s surprise, this man held an extremely important position regarding the selection process.

Chief overseer. Judging by his tone, it didn’t seem like he had any other managers helping him with the work. Mail thought to herself, ‘He must have a lot of free time.’

“As the person in charge, I’ll give you a brief explanation. First of all, there’s no set period for the selection. However, the number of candidates will be halved through the first and second rounds, and once there are five or fewer left, we will select the final candidate to become the Empress. Candidates who are eliminated will leave the palace immediately without any additional procedure.”

Halved each round. Mail roughly gauged the number of candidates gathered in the hall. There were probably fewer than 100 but close to that number.

That means they would need at least four or five rounds of elimination to reduce the number to five or fewer. Even if they eliminated candidates weekly, the process would take about a month. She had no idea what criteria would be used, but it wouldn’t be a quick process.

‘Will the emperor be involved in every selection round? Judging by the marquis’ overly confident face, it seems unlikely…’

Mail was thinking this while observing Marquis Bolthen’s shiny face. At that moment, the marquis addressed that very topic.

“For your information, unless there are special circumstances, His Majesty will not be involved in the selection process. Essentially, the decision of who stays or goes is entirely up to me. I’m telling you this in advance to avoid any misunderstandings.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

The marquis’ statement was a bombshell. It was hard to comprehend that the emperor would remain uninvolved in selecting his own empress. The hall was more stirred than it had been all day.

Mail frowned, puzzled.

‘So the marquis really does have all the authority. I expected that at least the final decision would be made by the emperor, but even that seems off the table. Why?’

Mail had been closely observing the marquis since he first began speaking. He was clearly intimidated by the emperor. Despite his calm demeanor, he subtly kept an eye on the emperor’s mood with every word, as if nervously gauging his reaction.

Mail wasn’t slow to catch on. She quickly realized that the emperor hadn’t handed over authority because he was weak or forced to. So, what was the reason?

‘Does he simply not care? Is it that he’s so indifferent to who becomes empress that he doesn’t want to waste his time on the selection process?’

TL NOTE: Visit dusk blossoms for more advanced chapters and stories