Robellia did not die. 

Although the fall left her with several broken ribs, cracks in both legs and a broken left arm, she survived. But she remained unconscious for over a fortnight, as if she did not want to return to reality. The doctor worked tirelessly day and night, pouring medicine down her throat to keep her barely clinging to life. 

Akan felt a pang of guilt. Not for ruthlessly destroying Robellia’s body and soul – given the chance to return to the past, Akan would have done the same. What gnawed at him was the impulsive lie he told at the very end. 

Robellia was not pregnant. 

Despite the countless acts of animalistic intercourse they had engaged in, Robellia had not conceived. In fact, the doctor had told Akan that Robellia’s body and mind were so fragile that if she did not recover, having children in the future would be difficult, if not impossible. 

And yet Akan had lied. He wanted Robellia to despair. He wanted her to spend every day in agony, waiting for a child that would never come. But instead of begging Akan for a miserable life, Robellia chose death. 

Robellia’s last words rang in Akan’s ears for days. If Robellia had truly seen death as her only salvation, she wouldn’t have spoken of forgiveness – it would have been a plea. Even if she had hurled accusations and resentment at him, cursed her circumstances and blamed him, it wouldn’t have mattered. But for Robellia to speak of forgiveness was impertinent. She had no right. 

Akan was convinced that the persistent irritation gnawing at him was caused by Robellia’s presumptuous words. That’s why she had to wake up. He had to unleash that festering resentment on her. Akan crumpled the document in his hands, barely registering the words on the page. 

“Find a way to get rid of Marquis Pison.”

“Why the sudden urgency?” 

Duke Mos furrowed his brow at Akan’s order. Since the day he had stumbled upon the enslaved Lord Roxas and devised his diabolical plan, fully aware of the damnation it would bring, he had accepted his fate. Therefore, the plan had to be executed flawlessly – without any variables. 

“It’s just a matter of changing the order.” 

Akan looked uncharacteristically agitated. Was it the realisation that Princess Robellia might die sooner than planned as a result of this incident that made him hurry? For a moment, it was clear that this cold-blooded emperor was in fact little more than a young man who had only recently come of age. 

When Duke Mos first discovered Akan Roxas, he had already spent nearly seven years as a slave. On the brink of boyhood and adulthood, Akan’s mind seemed precariously close to breaking point. 

He valued neither others nor his own life. It wouldn’t have mattered to Akan if he had been sold again. The only reason he could be drawn into their plan was the princess’s card. For someone like Akan, who hated and cursed everything living, the person he resented most was Robellia. 

Ironically, it was Robellia – his scapegoat for his anger – who now enabled him to function as emperor. Perhaps Marquis Pison had been chosen as a temporary measure. Duke Mos was determined to take drastic measures if necessary, even if it meant restraining Robellia to prevent her from pulling any more reckless stunts. 

“She’s as cunning as a fox, so it won’t be easy, but I’ll find a justification.”

“If that doesn’t work, just get rid of him. If I refuse to allow him to inherit the title, his household should get the message.” 

“Understood…”

Overthrowing a tyrant and seizing the throne was not as difficult as one might think. After all, under the Emperor’s reign of terror, everyone had been secretly waiting for a rebellion. 

Maintaining the throne afterwards by playing the same role – sometimes as an even worse tyrant – was another challenge altogether. Of course, for the plan to succeed, both parties would have to tread carefully, and Akan was well aware of this. Marquis Pison was indeed someone who had to be dealt with eventually, but why now? 

Akan’s loss of self-control and impatient behaviour was giving Duke Mos a headache. Just as Mos was about to say something to calm Akan down, there was a knock at the door. 

“Come in.”

The person who entered was the doctor assigned to the princess’s palace. The very one who had played along with the emperor’s lie that had led to the princess throwing herself out of the window. Instead of saving a life, the doctor had almost caused a death. The strain of it all had taken a decade off the doctor’s face. 

“What is it?”

The new Emperor’s voice was cold and unyielding, a chill piercing the air. Silently, the doctor cursed the predecessor who had given him the title of Imperial Physician. What use was honour when life itself was at stake? Both the previous ruler and the current one were mad tyrants, and with the whims of those in power, there was no telling when his head might roll. 

“Well… she’s awake.”

There was no need to specify who he was referring to. Even after the doctor’s words, Akan remained silent for an unusually long time. The unexpected reaction caused the doctor to fidget nervously, glancing anxiously at the Emperor for any sign of his thoughts. 

What was that feeling? It wasn’t disappointment, nor was it relief, but somehow it felt as if the power had been drained from his limbs. Akan lowered his eyes to his hand resting on the desk. Startled, he clenched his fingers into a fist, hiding the slight tremor in them. 

“I see.”

“But… her condition is rather unusual.”

The physician, always one to gauge the Emperor’s mood, spoke with the utmost caution. Akan paid little attention to his words, not interested in anything beyond the fact that she was alive. 

“Her body was shattered; it’s no surprise she’s not in normal condition.”

Even before she threw herself out of the window, Robellia had been little more than a walking corpse. No wonder everyone had assumed she was dead until the doctor checked her pulse as she lay sprawled in the flower bed. 

To think that he had driven someone to such despair that she chose to jump to her death – truly a man without blood or tears. The doctor suppressed his bitter feelings and continued as evenly as possible. 

“Of course, physical discomfort is to be expected… but it seems that the head injury has caused some mental disturbance.” 

Mental disturbance? Akan’s face twisted sharply at the suggestion. He had seen it before: slaves who suffered head injuries and became witless fools. Akan remembered the many faces of those who, unable even to feed themselves, eventually wasted away and died. 

“It is difficult for us to act on our own judgement. We’d appreciate it if you could assess her condition.”

“I’ll go.”

Duke Mos interjected, breaking his silence. Regardless of Robellia’s condition, further agitating the Emperor would do no one any good. 

Akan shook his head and rose from his seat. 

“No, I think I’ll see for myself. See what a wreck she’s become.” 

Even without Akan’s growing impatience, Duke Mos felt an urgent need to speed up all their plans. Akan Roxas might loathe Princess Robellia enough to want her torn apart, but no one could predict how things would unfold once she was truly gone. There was no telling if Akan, consumed by madness, would lash out indiscriminately, killing anyone in his path. 

Pushing aside Duke Mos’s unspoken concerns, Akan followed the doctor to the princess’s palace. 

“She is not completely incapacitated or unable to communicate.”

All the way to their destination, the doctor couldn’t stop talking about things Akan hadn’t even asked about, as if to prepare him for what lay ahead. But the conversation avoided any concrete details, circling around the point excessively, causing Akan to scowl. 

“If you want to talk, make it clear. Otherwise, shut up.” 

“Better you see for yourself.”

They arrived at the princess’s palace in silence. Unlike usual, Robellia’s door was wide open. The maids who had been temporarily assigned to her until she regained consciousness were pacing anxiously at the entrance, their feet shuffling nervously. 

“Hurry, inform His Majesty!”