Amy had avoided becoming a criminal when those connected to Ormil’s past crimes were prosecuted. Testimonies from her fellow maids, including Ena, claimed that Amy had suffered frequent threats and beatings from Ormil. These accounts allowed her to escape punishment.

Despite this reprieve, Amy ultimately became a criminal. Pushing Ormil down the stairs had resulted in the latter’s death, and no excuses could absolve her of responsibility this time. Yet, as Amy was dragged to prison, she wore the brightest smile of her life.

Mac ensured that rumors wouldn’t spread, silencing the soldiers who had been present. He also assisted in handling the scene with the guards who arrived belatedly to manage Ormil’s remains.

A few young noblewomen, drawn by curiosity, opened the door just in time to witness Ormil’s gruesome state. Their reactions caused a commotion in the banquet hall. Count Ereda decided to end the gathering earlier than usual, taking advantage of the chaos.

Amy’s punishment wasn’t publicly announced.

***

The following day, at the break of dawn, Mail received an unexpected visitor.

The marquis had underestimated and misunderstood something. He believed Iseline was heeding his advice and staying quiet, but the reality was quite different. Iseline had not been idle at all—she simply hadn’t gone to him.

She was restless, eager to find the emperor’s woman as quickly as possible. But her efforts had yielded no results, leaving her feeling frustrated and desperate.

It baffled her how someone receiving the emperor’s affection could hide it so well. She had even approached maids from both the main and secondary palaces, only to find their lips sealed.

Her impatience grew with each passing day. Her frustration often spilled out on the maids, though she would immediately apologize, fearing word might reach the emperor. She knew this couldn’t go on. Despite lacking faith, she found herself praying more often than ever.

Then came the news of a banquet at the main palace—a side event tied to the second selection process.

Iseline suddenly felt a surge of certainty. This was her chance to see all the candidates in one place. Previously, the marquis had warned her to avoid public appearances at such official events, and she had complied. But now wasn’t the time to hold back. His warnings didn’t even cross her mind.

After preparing herself, Iseline headed to the main palace’s banquet hall, hoping to learn something—anything.

And it seemed her prayers were answered.

“…Huh?”

She saw it. Someone fell down the stairs. But that wasn’t the important part. At the top of the stairs stood the emperor. And next to him, a woman.

The emperor, holding the woman close, quickly disappeared with her.

Ah, so that’s her.

Relief and dejection washed over Iseline simultaneously. She felt a surge of emotions as she realized who the woman was. She knew her. She had encountered her before—at the library, and once prior to that. To think she had been so close all this time yet searching so desperately. It felt unreal.

Conflicting emotions consumed her. She laughed quietly to herself for a while before finally moving.

It was easy to obtain additional information once she learned her appearance. When she mentioned she had a personal matter to attend to, the maid readily disclosed the location of her quarters.

Iseline waited impatiently for daybreak. Whether she had stayed up all night or managed to catch a brief nap, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, as soon as dawn broke, she hurried to the western annex.

Luck was on her side: despite the early hour, the person she sought was already awake and agreed to her request for a private conversation without hesitation.

In a secluded drawing room, Iseline sat across from Mail.

‘Why?’

Mail’s expression betrayed her surprise. This unexpected visit had caught her completely off guard. While she was vaguely familiar with Iseline, they had no real acquaintance or connection.

In fact, Mail only learned her visitor’s full name—Lady Iseline Tengott—when the maid announced it. Up until then, she had only referred to her as “the ball of thread lady.”

Not only was she startled by an uninvited morning guest, but she was also perplexed about what purpose this visit could possibly serve. Mail stared silently at Iseline, trying to read her intentions.

“Well…”

Iseline swallowed hard, her throat dry as fear gripped her.

Iseline was overwhelmed by terror—the fear of being discarded. The dread of losing everything she had.

Desperation had driven her to find a solution.

What Iseline feared most was being expelled from the palace. Yet, she didn’t believe the Emperor would cast her aside so coldly.

Up close, he had shown himself to be far more compassionate than his reputation suggested, particularly toward those he considered “his own.” He even treated former confidantes with respect.

Iseline had faith that if she clung to him earnestly, the Emperor wouldn’t be able to dismiss her easily.

The real issue lay elsewhere.

The Emperor’s woman—the one who had captured his heart. Even to an outsider like Iseline, it was painfully clear how deeply the Emperor had fallen for her.

And that was when the fear began to consume her.

The vague unease she had felt looming beneath her feet suddenly took shape and came crashing down on her.

‘What if that woman demanded that I be cast out?’

‘What if she whispered that she couldn’t bear to see me and begged the Emperor to get rid of me?’

Iseline came to a chilling realization. The one holding her by the throat wasn’t the Emperor—it was the woman who had stolen his heart. The Emperor would do anything she asked. His eyes left no doubt about that.

Thus, if Iseline wished to retain what she had and remain in the palace…

Iseline rose from her seat. Mail, startled by her sudden movement, watched with confusion that quickly turned to shock as Iseline knelt at her feet.

“Lady Tengott? What on earth are you doing…?”

“Please don’t cast me out.”

“What?”

“Please let me stay in the palace. That’s all I ask. Truly, I’m not trying to claim His Majesty’s affection. I would never dream of such a thing. I swear it.”

“What are you even talking about? Please, get up and—”

“I’ll tell you everything I know. Everything. I’ll confess it all so you can trust me. I’ll leave nothing out—not a single thing. From how I came to catch His Majesty’s eye, I’ll share it all.”

There were two things the Marquis had overlooked—or perhaps noticed but underestimated—about Iseline.

One, her fear of being abandoned was far greater than he realized.

Two, she did not love the Emperor.

For those reasons, Iseline chose a course of action the Marquis could never have predicted.

She revealed who had helped her secure an audience with the Emperor.

She confessed who had coached her on how to present herself in appearance and demeanor before him.

She admitted to inquiring about the Emperor’s bouts of insomnia and whether they persisted.

And she recounted how this individual had reassured her in moments of anxiety, confidently declaring that the Emperor would never abandon her.

Everything. Every secret she had kept until now spilled from Iseline’s lips.

***

Meanwhile, Banther arrived at the imperial capital just before dawn after traveling all night by carriage. The grueling journey explained why he had rarely returned to his estate recently; even with a warp gate, the additional travel distance was substantial.

If his leave was three days, two would be spent on the road. He climbed out of the carriage, his body stiff and aching.

“Well done,” he muttered to himself. He felt he had earned some self-praise—not for mental endurance, but for physical hardship. His most significant challenge had been sparring with his father, the Duke of Mohaim.

Yes, the Duke, who had initially seemed ready to hand over the key without fuss, had instead summoned Banther to the training grounds. Banther’s face darkened in anticipation of what lay ahead.

The Duke had agreed to give him the key—but not without a fight.

Though Banther was an exceptionally skilled swordsman, there were three individuals in the vast empire who surpassed him in swordsmanship. Unfortunately, two of them were his superior officer and his own father.

Thus, Banther found himself relentlessly battered under the guise of a sparring match. The Duke’s strikes showed no mercy, leaving Banther questioning his childhood suspicions. Was he truly not an adopted son?

Despite the ordeal, Banther ultimately succeeded in obtaining the key. His mission was complete. As he congratulated himself on his achievement and made his way to his quarters, he froze in shock.

“Your Majesty.”

The Emperor stood in the corridor, unmistakably waiting for him. It was barely dawn—how long had he been there? For a fleeting moment, Banther felt moved by the Emperor’s presence, only to quickly grasp the reality of the situation.

“It seems you’ve come to greet me for the key,” Banther remarked.

The Emperor extended his hand, signaling that Banther was correct.

“Then hand it over.”

“Shouldn’t you first acknowledge the trouble I went through to get this? You have no idea how much I suffered to secure it…” Banther began, his tone almost teasing.

“A week of paid leave.”

“Here you go, Key, my dear friend,” Banther quipped, though his hand hesitated as he passed the key. There was a hint of reluctance in his movements.

Understanding Banther’s feelings, the Emperor refrained from rushing or scolding him. At last, Banther handed over the key entirely, exhaling a deep, heavy sigh as though the weight of the world had been lifted.

“Now all my luck is gone. Lately, I’ve been sighing so much…”

“Does sighing cause you to lose luck?”

“A fortune-teller said so.”

“I didn’t expect you to believe in such things, Sir Banther.”

The Emperor chuckled lightly and examined the key. It was a substantial golden key, large enough to fill his palm. Banther’s expression grew more complex.

“Are you planning to open it now?”

Though Banther omitted the object in question, his meaning was clear. The Emperor, finishing his inspection of the key, clenched it firmly and replied.

“I am.”

“Couldn’t we wait just a little longer… to prepare ourselves?”

“Would it change anything?”

“I just thought I’d ask.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll return with my mind intact and in one piece.”

‘You certainly must.’ Banther started to respond but then fell silent. There was no stopping the Emperor, after all. Banther himself had gone to great lengths to retrieve the key to make this endeavor easier. Instead of saying more, he bowed slightly, silently wishing the Emperor a safe return. The Emperor acknowledged the gesture with a nod and turned away.

The dawn was breaking. The corridor was bathed in soft, golden light. Often seen as a symbol of hope, the morning rays filled the hallway. Banther hoped the symbolism would hold true as he remained rooted in place, watching until the Emperor’s figure disappeared from view.

***