“You’re laughing?”

The man bared his teeth, apparently angered by her laughter. Mail could guess with near certainty that he was a commoner, newly assigned to work in the palace. Otherwise, he wouldn’t so confidently assume she was a servant.

Even if he were enchanted by Ormil, the fact that he’d unquestioningly pegged her as a mere maid said it all.

“You’re in no position to laugh, are you? Let me help you understand.”

The man raised his hand, poised to slap her, and his open palm struck her cheek with a dull thud.

Mail felt as if her head had been hit, rather than her cheek, due to the sheer size and thickness of his hand.

Suppressing a scream, Mail thought, ‘Ah, my head. At this rate, I’ll be as oblivious as a princess, dumbed down by all the hits.’

It was a foolish thought, but she clung to it to stay sane. Although she had more courage than a lady who would faint at the sight of a bug, it didn’t mean she was immune to fear. Not shaking was her last act of defiance.

“Tough one, aren’t you, not even crying.”

Cry? Want me to make you cry instead? Mail briefly considered gouging his eyes with her fingers.

She quickly abandoned the thought, knowing it would only bring her more harm. Instead of making a petty attack, she focused all her strength on glaring at him.

If this man had Ormil’s orders, he wouldn’t kill her. In that case, even if she had to endure a beating now, she’d have a chance for revenge later.

To ensure her revenge, she needed to identify this man. Mail observed every detail she could see of him.

His voice, height, build, and hand size… She looked down. Yes, even his leg length and foot size. Her assessment revealed that his legs were short.

Seemingly noticing what she was doing, the man abruptly threw her down. Mail bit her lip at the shock of hitting the ground without warning. Pain surged through her. Couldn’t he let go a bit more gently, this damn brute?

The man who had been tossing Mail around showed a hint of anxiety, unlike his attitude just moments ago. It was as if he suddenly realized he didn’t have much time left.

Of course, even if he had bribed people, it was unlikely that he could keep the palace corridors clear for long.

Sensing the end, Mail inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It was time to part. Until next time. Hopefully, in court. At that moment, the man lifted his foot.

“…!”

Was he about to kick her? Mail raised her arms to shield her head, but then paused. He didn’t kick her. Instead, he stomped down. His foot pressed directly on Mail’s knee.

“No way.”

A chill of fear ran up her spine. Was he trying to break it? No, if that were his goal, he would have just kicked her shin for efficiency. The calm expression Mail had barely maintained shattered. This insane man—surely, he wasn’t about to…

“You’ll be crawling on your arms from now on.”

This lunatic. That’s not even walking anymore. Mail, pale as a sheet, struggled desperately. She’d rather have several bones broken elsewhere than lose her leg entirely.

As the man pressed down harder on her knee, the color drained even further from Mail’s face. No. She opened her mouth instinctively to scream, even though she knew no sound would come out.

At that moment—

“Ugh!”

The scream came not from Mail, but from the man. Groaning in agony, he rolled away, far from her.

The pressure on her knee disappeared in an instant. Shocked, Mail blinked, her blurred vision trying to focus. A familiar silhouette seemed to emerge. The figure approached quickly, lifting her with urgent hands.

“Mail.”

“Hah…”

The contorted face was one she recognized well. His Majesty. She could barely manage those two syllables. After blinking a few times to ensure it wasn’t an illusion, she relaxed. She was saved.

“How… are you here…”

“Don’t speak. Your voice sounds terrible. Don’t talk. We’ll talk later, once you’re okay.”

The voice, more urgent than the hands that supported her, kept repeating the same words, dripping with worry. Mail, drained of strength, let out a weak laugh as if sighing. The firm arms supporting her back felt surprisingly comforting.

Ah, but wait—the culprit. They had to catch him. The cul…

The release of tension made her vision fade, and Mail soon lost consciousness.

—

Rohayden had been busy for days. So much so that his aide, Banther, jokingly suggested he should learn cloning if he planned to keep up. The emperor looked as though even two bodies wouldn’t be enough.

When asked why he was so busy, he could only blame sheer bad luck. An unexpected workload had come crashing down on him, forcing Rohayden into an unending sea of tasks.

Under this grueling schedule and constant anxiety, he barely managed to get by on reduced sleep for over four days.

After being tormented like that, the day of the first selection had finally arrived. Long after sunset, he finished his state duties and, sinking into his chair as if he had completed every task in the world, suddenly sprang up to call someone.

It was Marquis Bolthen who was summoned. As the person in charge of the selection, he responded promptly to the emperor’s illustrious call, thinking the same thing as soon as he entered the office to stand before the Empire’s Sun.

“Again?”

In fact, just days ago, the emperor had also summoned him. Then, the emperor had abruptly commanded the marquis, who had dropped everything and rushed over, “Disqualify Riela de Belthier in the first round.”

For someone who had promised not to interfere, this command was rather unexpected, but the marquis, too timid to object, immediately complied, saying he understood.

He then turned to leave… but the emperor stopped him.

“No, don’t disqualify her.”

It was a quick reversal, but the marquis, undeterred, replied again that he understood. He tried to leave again… but the emperor called him back.

“No, on second thought, disqualify her.”

At this point, the marquis felt this was becoming absurd but still replied respectfully. “Understood.” Then, thinking he could finally leave… the emperor held him back once more.

“No, keep her in.”

The marquis replied yet again, “Understood.” The emperor spoke again.

“No, no, disqualify her after all.”

The marquis responded again, “As you command.” And then the emperor spoke again…

The old marquis felt his blood pressure rising. What now?

Marquis Bolthen thought it was fortunate that he wasn’t hot-tempered. Otherwise, he might have lost his mind and rebelled right there in the emperor’s office.

He had no idea what inner conflicts the Emperor was battling alone, but he wished the Emperor would consider the suffering of his subjects for a change. The Marquis had shuddered both a few days ago and now as he faced this situation.

After tormenting the Marquis twice now, Rohayden, left alone in his office, sank into deep thought.

He was confused, and as much as he was confused, he was also in pain. All the worries that had piled up while he was buried in work resurfaced at once, completely unsettling his mind. It was a beautifully chaotic mess. Even a headache began to pound.

Then, a thought struck him.

‘I miss her.’

As soon as Rohayden realized this thought, he was so startled that he reflexively slammed his desk. The sound was so loud that the attendant waiting outside opened the door, thinking he was being summoned.

After dismissing the attendant with a wave, the Emperor rubbed his forehead. What was he thinking just now?

‘I miss the garden.’ Rohayden tried to rationalize it, but he soon slammed his desk with both hands. This time, the attendant didn’t come in. Rohayden frowned and let out a painful sigh.

‘Fine, I admit it. I can’t deny it any longer. I missed her. Not anyone else but Mail.’

The last time he had seen Mail was five days ago, in the garden. Since then, he had been too bogged down with work to even think of going outside. And without going out, he naturally hadn’t seen her.

By now, he could recall Mail’s face more clearly than his own portrait. He didn’t know when it had gotten this bad, but here he was.

Rohayden, head in his hands, stared blankly at his empty desk. Mail’s image was drawn there, not in the air. Surely, he must have lost his mind.

Concluding that he was truly mad, the Emperor rose abruptly. After cutting back on sleep for days to focus on his duties, by all rights, he should abandon everything and go to bed.

But instead of heading to bed, he chose to go to the banquet hall. He knew there was no way he would be able to sleep in this state.

He left the office without a mask, remaining as the Emperor. The reason was simple: going to a crowded place like the banquet hall with a mask was risky.

What if someone disregarded protocol and recognized him? Rohayden didn’t want Mail to discover that he was the Emperor in such a way.

His steps quickened toward his destination. He had no intention of directly speaking to Mail while in the guise of the Emperor.

Just seeing her face from a distance would be enough. He could handle the commotion of servants fussing over his unexpected visit and attendants tripping over themselves, or a few candidates trying to catch his eye. It was fine. He just wanted to see her face.

When he reached the banquet hall, Rohayden stopped just short of the half-open door.

He had approached a public entrance, used by all banquet participants, rather than the private door reserved for the Emperor and esteemed guests. Near the door, two maids were whispering to each other.

Though their voices were low, Rohayden’s hearing was exceptionally sharp. The suspicious conversation reached his ears clearly.

“Really? All they had to do was spill a drink, and they’d get paid?”

“Yes. Exactly. As long as they dirtied her clothes so she’d have to go to the side palace to change. Oh, and they were told to make sure she’d leave alone.”

“So, was it a success?”

“Of course. It must have looked like an accident to anyone watching.”

“Wow, you’re lucky, girl. So, who was it? Who did you spill the drink on? It must be one of the candidates, right?”

“I don’t know. All I know is she had dark brown hair and green eyes. Ah, I do remember the person who accompanied her into the hall. I have a soft spot for blondes, you know. She’s a princess from some kingdom….”

There was no need to listen any further. He turned around immediately and broke into a run. A chilling sense of dread surged within him. He had never seen anyone paid to do such things with good intentions. His heart pounded with an unpleasant urgency.

The side palace was not far. Seeing there were no guards at the entrance, Rohayden couldn’t help but curse.

‘Please, let nothing have happened. Please.’

With that desperate hope, he dashed down the dark corridor. It wasn’t the darkness that filled him with dread but the thought that something might have happened to Mail in that darkness.

Had he ever felt such a desperate wish before? Not in recent memory, or even in the distant past. He suppressed his anxiety as he ran through the shadows, and soon, he found her.

“Ugh!”

There was no time for thought. His body moved before his mind could catch up. He kicked the man standing over Mail, sending him flying, and only then did he come to his senses.

His hands, shaking with urgency, carefully lifted Mail’s limp body. His lips parted as he called her name. Mail.

Calling Mail by name while in the guise of the Emperor felt strangely unnatural, but in this moment, rational thought was out of the question.

Mail, resting against his arm, blinked her eyes a few times before exhaling a relieved sigh. Her hoarse, faint voice was almost painful to hear, and he gently stopped her from speaking.

Soon, Mail fainted in his arms. Rohayden had to summon all his strength to suppress his rage, making sure his hands didn’t tighten around her.

“Your Majesty!”

“What happened, Your Majesty?”

After a short while, knights and guards arrived. Seeing the Emperor from the main palace, they had sprinted here, breathless.

“Are you all right, Your Majesty?”

Voices asking about the Emperor’s well-being erupted from all sides. Rohayden briefly responded amid the commotion.

“I am fine.”

What mattered was something else.

“Take this criminal away. I will personally administer his punishment later.”

Where his gaze fell, a man with his face covered by cloth lay limp, unconscious. Soldiers, sensing what had occurred, quickly moved to bind the man.

After motioning for the knights to keep their distance, Rohayden carefully lifted Mail in his arms. His touch was still gentle.

“This person must not die easily. Keep him alive.”

“By your command!”

The man was coughing up foamy blood. Rohayden hadn’t held back when he kicked him, so if he were left alone, it wouldn’t be long before he’d die. But he couldn’t let him die that easily. Absolutely not.

“Sir.”

“Give the order.”

“The banquet is canceled. Go and announce it. And bring all the maids who served at tonight’s banquet to the Audience Hall.”

“I will carry out your command immediately.”

The knight bowed deeply and dashed out. Rohayden continued giving orders.

“Detain all soldiers in charge of guarding the outer palace and bring them here. Don’t let a single one slip away.”

“At once!”

Everyone moved quickly to carry out their tasks. Rohayden then walked on, still carrying Mail.

His golden eyes, once praised by all as more radiant than gold, were darker than ever before. Even his footsteps exuded a chill, causing the soldiers following him to shiver without realizing it.