Chapter 2.5

Valeria presented the blueprint for a new aqueduct in the Darseta region to Emperor Aristide.  

Aristide furrowed his brows as he scanned it, then broke into a wide grin.  

“I don’t understand it, but judging by all these squiggly lines, it must be another brilliant construction!”  

“You flatter me, Your Majesty.”  

Though he signed the document, Aristide didn’t give her permission to leave.  

Valeria tried to make conversation.  

“Lucia is adjusting well.”  

Aristide dropped the fountain pen he had been fiddling with.  

“Ahem. I didn’t ask about that. I don’t know why you felt the need to tell me, but thank you for the unnecessary report.”  

“I understand now why you favor her.”  

“Yes, she has exceptional talent in invention.”  

“More than that, she reminds me of Cynthia.”  

Aristide’s teal eyes deepened instantly.  

“It would be hard to imagine two people looking more different.”  

“I meant internally.”  

“Is that so?”  

Valeria bowed to the now-silent Aristide, who had lapsed into thought, and left the room.  

Alone, Aristide muttered to himself.  

“So that’s why she’s been on my mind.”  

The joy he felt when talking to her while purchasing her inventions, the heart-stopping pain when she was found covered in blood, the way he couldn’t bear to look at the bruises and wounds on her face when she regained consciousness…  

And the bitterness he felt when she asked to become a concubine, knowing it wasn’t what she wanted but something she felt forced to do…  

‘She reminds me of Cynthia.’ 

Yes, that explained everything.  

Aristide felt a sudden sense of peace.  

***

When Lucia seemed fully adjusted to her new life, Valeria suggested the second stage of her ‘initiation.’  

It involved shadowing the Emperor all day.  

As the new ‘concubine,’ showing the Emperor’s favor toward her both inside and outside the Imperial Palace would help solidify her position.  

Thus, early that morning, Lucia arrived at the Imperial Palace and waited outside Emperor Aristide’s bedroom while he dressed.  

For an hour.  

So this is why the others told me to bring something to read.  

“See, I told you.”  

The maid who had nursed her back to health was chatting with someone.  

“She really became a concubine.”  

“Why do you think His Majesty carried her here himself to save her? I wouldn’t have touched her; she was filthy.”  

They finally noticed Lucia staring at them and fled in panic.  

Lucia returned to redrawing her blueprint in her notebook.  

Then, from inside the room, she heard Aristide’s urgent voice.  

“Enzo! Enzo! This is a disaster!”  

His aide entered the room, gesturing for Lucia to follow.  

As soon as she stepped into the room, which was the size of a living room, she was assaulted by the sight of bright reds and sparkling gold.  

The bedposts, intricately carved with complex patterns, soared to the ceiling, while the satin-covered bed looked slippery enough to slide off while sleeping.  

The wallpaper, curtains, and furniture were all decorated with clashing patterns and colors, creating utter chaos.  

Aristide stood in front of a full-length mirror, frowning.  

A swamp of shoes surrounded his ankles.  

“Enzo—! Oh, hello, Miss Bianchi—Enzo, this is a disaster! None of these shoes match my outfit!”  

He thrust one foot forward, showing off a black shoe with a silver buckle.  

“This doesn’t go with the gold threads of my lamé coat.”  

He hurriedly tried on another pair of shoes.  

“These are too high and make my taut b*ttocks stick out too much.”  

He stood on tiptoe, thrusting his hips out, then grabbed another pair of shoes.  

“These are too shiny and clash with my satin trousers! Don’t you agree, Miss Bianchi?”  

‘He’s my savior. My savior. This man saved my life. Say something nice.’  

Lucia replied, 

“You’re right, Your Majesty.”  

“Look, Enzo! Even Miss Bianchi, who thinks clothes are nothing more than rags to cover the body, agrees! What a disaster!”  

“Your Majesty, you called for me?”  

A man with a measuring tape draped around his neck hurriedly entered the room and asked. Aristide’s dark expression instantly brightened.  

“Enzo! How is it that you always know to summon the Imperial shoemaker in advance?”  

Enzo responded with a bow instead of words and left the room.  

Known as the true power behind the Empire, Enzo, the Emperor’s aide, had no interest in state affairs.  

Aristide merely attended meetings, and Enzo would review and make decisions afterward, leaving Aristide to sign off. Because of this, no issue was ever resolved during meetings.  

It seemed Enzo not only carried out the Emperor’s duties but also catered to Aristide’s every whim.  

‘That’s an extreme job.’  

The shoemaker twisted his hands nervously and asked, 

“Your Majesty, do you dislike the shoes I delivered yesterday?”  

“No, I love them.” 

Aristide picked up the loafers with a large, tacky rose pattern and kissed them.  

He then launched into a lengthy explanation of the serious issue at hand: the need for new shoes to match his current outfit.  

This decision left the shoemaker flustered.  

“I deeply apologize, but we’ve exhausted the year’s supply of cowhide prepared for the Imperial Palace. It will take a week to procure more cowhide and craft new shoes. I’m truly sorry. I never imagined we’d need to make so many shoes in just a few months!”  

Aristide placed both hands on the trembling shoemaker’s shoulders.  

“Don’t worry. I have an open mind. If there’s no cowhide, use lambskin instead!”  

Lucia had come expecting to see the serious side of Aristide she had last witnessed—the dignity of an Emperor, not the childish demeanor of someone playing with inventions at her shop.  

Her expectations were thoroughly dashed. He was exactly the same frivolous regular customer she had known for the past year.  

‘What did he eat wrong that day?’  

***

Aristide’s breakfast lasted for an entire hour.  

It was almost noon by the time they escaped the dining room.  

Lucia thought he might head to his study to attend to state matters, but instead, Aristide casually announced he was going for a digestion walk.  

Aristide handed her a lace parasol. Lucia opened it and held it over the Emperor’s head.  

Aristide looked at her, startled.  

“What, what are you doing?”  

“Didn’t you give this to me to block the sunlight for you?”  

“Of course not! It’s for you.”  

“Oh.”  

Lucia folded the parasol.  

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t burn easily.”  

Lucia held her arm next to Aristide’s. Her skin was much darker.  

“Oh-ho, then I’ll use it myself!”  

Aristide happily opened the feminine parasol over his head.  

Without exchanging a word, they finished their walk and began returning to the palace.  

Yellow daisies lined the path, and bees buzzed among the flowers.  

As Aristide began walking faster, Lucia matched his pace willingly.  

‘So His Majesty is also afraid of bees.’  

Once they passed the daisy-covered path, Lucia sighed in relief.  

At that moment, Aristide said, 

“Don’t move.”  

“Pardon?”  

“There’s a bee on your arm.”  

Lucia froze. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to.  

Memories from when she was seven came flooding back.  

Locked in a pitch-dark closet, she couldn’t see anything.  

Only the angry buzzing of bees, the laughter of her brother outside the closet, and her own sobbing filled the suffocating silence.  

Suddenly, her body burned as if she had been stung dozens of times like back then.  

Aristide gently removed the bee from her shoulder with both hands.  

Lucia barely managed to protest.  

“You might get stung.”  

Instead of replying, Aristide walked a few steps away and released the bee.  

When he returned, he smiled awkwardly.  

“My apologies, Miss Bianchi. There was another path with blooming flowers. The bees came out early this year.”  

She was too trapped in the nightmare-like memory to respond.  

“Miss Bianchi?”  

He approached her, lowering his head to meet her gaze.  

“It’s okay. It’s over now.”  

Finally, time began moving for Lucia again.  

As she blinked, the pitch-black closet and the buzzing bees disappeared, replaced by Aristide’s clear teal eyes gazing at her.  

Lucia turned her flushed face away from his.  

“I have bad memories with bees.”  

Now that she was no longer a child, she felt embarrassed to have shown fear over a single bee.  

“Buzz-buzz is scary!” 

Aristide replied cheerfully, handing her a handkerchief.  

Lucia used it to wipe the sweat off her forehead.  

“How did you know I was afraid?”  

“Was it last year? A bee flew into the bookstore, and I saw you run out.”  

It was something she had even forgotten herself.  

They resumed walking. Aristide pulled out a half-rotten fruit from his pocket.  

“Want a fig? Just picked it; it’s fresh.”  

“I’ll politely decline.”  

He took a big bite.  

“Hmph. Your loss. There’s nothing tastier than fallen figs.”  

They returned to the palace as if nothing had happened.