Hh… Isabel bit down hard on the inside of her lip.

“Everyone’s been talking about you, haven’t they? I’m sure your ears have been burning.”

Even though she didn’t want to listen, she still heard the rumours. She heard them, but let them wash over her.

Stories about the fallen princess becoming the emperor’s spoil of war, or how she must have bewitched him, weren’t worth paying attention to.

‘So you have time to listen to such rumors, do you?’

The emperor’s sharp gaze narrowed just a little as Isabel surrendered her body to him, betraying no particular reaction.

He looked down at Isabel’s clenched fist gripping the hem of her robe tightly. Then he lowered his head. As though soothing a child, he gently brushed his lips against her skin.

Drops of water fell from his hair as Isabel held her breath. For some reason, he seemed intent on being kind today. It made her chest tighten with discomfort.

“Are you going to keep acting so stiff?”

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“More than that, I heard you fell into the water earlier.”

For a moment, Isabel didn’t quite understand what he meant. She replayed the day in her mind, and after a few seconds, she remembered the incident that had happened earlier that afternoon.

“Ah, yes… It was nothing serious.”

But as she answered, the edge of her robe slipped from her shoulder, revealing a bruise on the inside of her arm.

“Nothing serious, you say?”

In the sunset, the bruise looked almost purple.

“Your Majesty, this—”

“That bastard did it, didn’t he?”

It was Charles.

But even as the emperor pressed her for an answer, Isabel couldn’t reply right away.

Charles was a member of the previous royal family—one of those who saw Isabel as a thorn in his side.

Charles’s birth mother was the late king’s third concubine. However, she concealed the fact that Charles was actually the son of a palace guard, not the king, and pretended he was the king’s child.

Although the late king never discovered the truth, the tragedy that began with that deception continued, echoing into the present day.

As he was not a true royal, Charles escaped the purges that befell the others. Instead of coveting the throne, he pursued his ambitions in darker ways.

“A lowly girl with no noble blood daring to enchant His Majesty—”

It was something that Charles had spat in her face over. Admiring the current emperor, he took every opportunity to insult her.

He got away with it because the emperor either didn’t know or chose to ignore it. As a result, Charles’ words and actions grew worse by the day. Now, when no one was looking, he would even slap or push her into the garden lake.

“So even after all that, you still want to protect him?”

‘So you knew?’

Isabel slowly shook her head.

“I’m not trying to protect him.”

It wasn’t misplaced forgiveness. She truly didn’t care enough to be bothered by it.

More than that, Isabel found herself wondering why the emperor had come to her room like this tonight. He never cared whether she was hurt or not, so why now?

“Does it surprise you?”

“Pardon?”

“That I care about you.”

Her expression hardened at how easily he saw through her.

“From the look on your face, you must think you’re usually good at hiding your feelings.”

His biting whisper drew closer, and he pressed his lips to hers again.

“Even when you’re in my bed, it’s obvious your mind is somewhere else.”

Soon, his hot lips were joined by his hand on her tense mouth. His fingers wandered for a moment before stopping just short of the bruise.

“No matter how much you pretend otherwise, you want this too, don’t you?”

Just as his trembling fingertips were about to brush the bruise, Isabel parted her lips to speak.

“You have to bear my child, don’t you?”

No matter how much you hate it.

At those softly spoken words, Isabel’s eyes trembled.

For the first time, a flicker of emotion appeared on Isabel’s face, so blank even when she was dragged to the bath and forced to attend to him.

“Survive, Sister. And bear the child who will save us.”

Crown Princess Isaya’s final prophecy was never made public. Only Isabel knew of it.

So, to those who saw Isabel enduring her fate as a spoil of war, it simply looked like she was shouldering the royal duty of continuing the bloodline.

But that prophecy was the only reason Isabel kept living. It was her sole motivation, the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.

“If you do that, your position and circumstances in the palace will get better.”

Kailhart’s practical words helped Isabel compose herself.

‘Thank goodness. I was worried, but it seems I was wrong.’

Isabel let out a shaky breath just as Kailhart gripped her arm and pressed his body against hers. Her mind buzzed dully, but she didn’t push away his arms. She didn’t resist. As always, she accepted everything he did to her.

“I was only speaking out of concern for the future of this empire. Forming a marriage alliance with a powerful family could help to ease some of Your Majesty’s burdens…”

As she replied, Isabel’s expression returned to stillness.

Kailhart, looking down at her face—blank as a sheet of paper—briefly furrowed his brow.

This was something Charles had tried to force upon Isabel before.

Insisting that the Emperor was blinded by her, Charles claimed that Isabel should advise him to take more wives in the interest of the imperial line. All the while, he pretended to care about the future of the Empire. He even threatened her by pressing a knife to her throat, leaving hidden wounds.

‘I can’t die yet. There’s something I still have to do…’

Unable to refuse, Isabel agreed.

That very night, when Kailhart came to her, she suggested, rather cautiously, that it would be better for the imperial succession if he took a concubine.

She remembered the exact date because Kailhart’s face had gone rigid, he had stopped what he was doing, and he had left the bedchamber at once.

The previous king had taken wives and concubines and fathered many children, but Kailhart was now the only surviving heir.

Consequently, the topic of the imperial succession was often raised at court.

“And you, of all people… to say it yourself…”

At that, Kailhart let out a bitter, incredulous laugh.

“Tell me you wish I had another woman by my side.”

“I’m sorry.”

Isabel replied, bowing her head again.

The bathwater, tinged red with blood, lapped at her skin. The metallic scent still pricked her nose, yet somehow the sound of water sloshing around them seemed to grow more and more distant.

As Isabel looked at the faint scars along Kailhart’s solid forearm, she let out a slow, trembling breath.

“You’re worried about my successor.”

The tepid water rippled with their movements.

The sensation of him pushing into her was overwhelming. Isabel endured in silence, turning her gaze away.

Through the wide window of the bathroom, she caught sight of the sunset. The sun was poised on the horizon, glowing an intense red — a sight that conjured up images of a stranger’s final, desperate struggle. The same fierce, blazing light stretched across Kaelhardt’s strong, athletic body.

“One like me is enough on my own.”

 Kailhart said, grinding out the words in a low voice.

His thick throat bobbed slowly, and his dark, unfathomable eyes pinned her in place. Eyes that seemed to see through everything—meeting his gaze was like being scraped raw inside.

There was no escape.

He always dug relentlessly into her depths, searching for something. Whether through words or touch, there was never any right for her to refuse.

Isabel endured, clutching the edge of the tub with trembling hands.

Kailhart was a cruel and unfeeling man, but he was also extraordinarily talented. Even the stigma of his illegitimate birth could not hold him back.

He was also fortunate to have lived in that time. In an age rife with conflict, it was only natural that those with the power to seize control rose to the top.

Although she could never bring herself to say it aloud in his presence, her words weren’t entirely false. For now, the empire was held together by Kailhart alone. However, she was well aware of how much blood would be shed if there were no legitimate heir, or if the wrong person took the throne.

The late king had never acknowledged Kailhart as his son, instead sending him into exile as soon as he discovered his existence. Even this was not enough: when Kailhart survived into adulthood and returned to the capital, he was immediately thrown onto the battlefield.

This was tantamount to a death sentence, yet just a few seasons later, Kailhart returned as a war hero.

His status changed overnight after winning that nearly hopeless war. The other heirs, each caught up in their own battles for succession, turned pale at his return.

More than half of them tried to eliminate this unruly son, but in the end, they were the ones who vanished.

So when Kaelhardt set his sights not only on inheriting the throne, but on claiming the imperial crown itself, there was no one left to oppose him.

And in just a few short years, he made himself emperor.

“If you care so much about my heir, then this conversation should be easy, shouldn’t it?”

At that moment, Kailhart’s moving hand came to a stop. It happened just as the heat behind Isabel’s eyes was about to overflow.

“Your Majesty, what I meant—”

“You need my body too, don’t you?”

“…What?”

“Use me. For your purpose.”

“What are you—”

“Bear the savior you want so badly.”

For an instant, Isabel’s eyes trembled.

“For the world. For your bloodline.”

The piercing echo of those words struck her eardrums. Until that moment, Isabel’s lips had remained firm, but now they pressed tightly together and trembled slightly.

She forced a faint smile, fighting the urge to glare up at him as he looked down on her. But her body betrayed her.

‘No, he’s just fishing for a reaction. There’s no way Kailhart could know what Isaya said.’

“Why? Did you really think I wouldn’t know? It’s the prophecy your sister left with her dying breath, isn’t it?”

But then—ah, it was clear.

At those words, Isabel’s eyes flew wide open.