Only now, too late, did he realize everything up to this point had unfolded exactly according to the emperor’s calculations. He had danced to the emperor’s tune, spilling everything—the location of the hideout, movements, plans—without even realizing it.

But before he could even scream, his vision spun.

The last prisoner’s eyes flew wide as his head was severed, and before he could even register that the emperor had drawn his sword from thin air, everything went blurry.

“Truly remarkable, no matter how many times I witness it.”

The severed head stopped moving atop the bl＊＊d-slick floor, and just as with the others, bl＊＊d began to seep belatedly from the cleanly sliced neck.

Turning back toward the emperor, Rapison couldn’t help but marvel.

“The situation?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Just as you predicted, the rebel leader was a puppet; it was the cult’s way of tying up loose ends.”

Even as he pressed his own face to the ground and pretended to go along with the act, just as ordered, the emperor’s foresight had already struck him.

“The men you just executed were those loose ends. I suppose they were high-ranking enough to be called the “waist” rather than the “tail”…”

Even as he spoke, he stood in awe of the Emperor’s bl＊＊d-stained empty hands.

He hadn’t just wiped the bl＊＊d from the sword; he had also stored it back in the subspace.

At that moment, one of the interrogators, who had been cowering in the corner of the room, approached the emperor shakily and handed him a towel.

As the emperor wiped the bl＊＊d from his hands without a word, Rapison continued his report.

“Ah, but this is truly good news! Our trackers dispatched near Sainte-Au haven’t found a single trace of them, and it’s been a struggle. Does this mean you’ll be sending troops to the Valkinen Archipelago?”

“No.”

“…Pardon?”

“Leave it as it is.”

“But, Your Majesty, we’ve only just discovered their base. Shouldn’t we pursue them while we have the chance…?”

The emperor handed the bloodied towel back to the interrogator instead of answering, and Rapison, suddenly short of breath, clamped his mouth shut mid-sentence.

The air in the room was suffocating. Even the guards lingering in the corners, and the interrogation specialists, were already pale and gagging, some on the verge of collapse. For Rapison, it was an achievement just to have lasted this long.

“More importantly, are you all right, Your Majesty?”

“I’m used to it.”

“…What?”

He stammered, dazed, but the emperor had already turned away.

Whether it was beheading the rebel leader or standing alone in the enemy camp during the last continental war, the emperor had never once so much as batted an eyelash.

Even now, he was as cold and unfeeling as ever. It was enough to make one wonder if he was even truly human.

As Rapison stared at the crimson footprints the emperor left behind, like burn scars on the floor, he let out a silent sigh.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

“My goodness, Princess, you’re burning up!”

Red blotches had erupted across Isabel’s feverish skin—heat rash.

Meli pressed her hand to Isabel’s forehead as she panted for breath, but when Isabel tried to shake her head and insist she was fine, her body wouldn’t cooperate.

“I-I’m all right…”

“No, you’re not!”

The aches that had begun at dawn yesterday had only gotten worse—her head throbbed and her stomach churned.

“Why didn’t you say something before you got this bad… Oh, I’m so upset I could cry.”

As Meli wiped the cold sweat from Isabel’s brow with a lukewarm cloth, Isabel drifted in and out of sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, Meli was holding something out to her.

“It’s nothing special, but… Would you like to try a little, Princess?”

Inside the round bowl Meli offered was a pale soup. She explained that it was made with finely grated potatoes and milk—simple, but familiar.

“It probably won’t suit your taste, Princess. Here in the palace, they only ever use the finest and rarest ingredients…”

Isabel’s eyes trembled faintly as she looked at the soup. It was only natural—it was almost exactly like what her mother used to make for her when she was a child.

“Still, this should be easier on your stomach. I made it extra mild, so just try a spoonful, all right?”

Supporting Isabel as she struggled to sit up, Meli placed the tray in her lap with a satisfied smile. Isabel parted her dry lips to speak.

“Thank you.”

“For what? It’s really not hard to make. My child was frail when he was little and often had stomachaches, so I used to cook this all the time. I could do it with my eyes closed.”

“You had a child, Meli.”

“Yes, I did… If he were alive, he’d be just about your age now, Princess.”

As Isabel paused, spoon halfway to her mouth, Meli quickly waved her hands.

“Oh, listen to me—don’t make that face, Princess. It was a long time ago now…”

She explained that an epidemic had swept through her hometown, taking many children with it. It had been over a decade, she said with a sigh, as she sat down beside Isabel.

Meli gently rubbed Isabel’s back as she slowly brought the spoon to her lips. The steady warmth seemed to settle the turmoil inside, and Isabel managed a small smile.

“I think I’ll be better by evening.”

“What? Evening?”

“I feel much better than I did this morning. If I keep recovering at this rate, I should be able to attend His Majesty by tonight, so—”

She had to hurry.

While Kailhart’s attention was still on her, she needed to share his bed as many times as possible—to bear his child. That was what she meant to say, but Meli suddenly caught her hand, cutting her off.

“No, what are you saying? Surely… you can’t mean His Majesty would still call you to his bed when you’re like this?”

Meli shook her head in disbelief. Isabel tightened her grip on the spoon. Honestly, she wouldn’t put it past him. Kailhart always pushed her to her limits.

“If he were human, he wouldn’t. But still—His Majesty cares for you so much, Princess.”

“…”

“First loves are always a little clumsy, I suppose.”

Meli shook her head and sighed, while Isabel slowly chewed a spoonful of soup. The bits of potato, not quite pureed, broke apart in her mouth.

“It’s true, you know. I see it myself—no matter how busy he is, he comes looking for you nearly every day.”

Meli chatted away, massaging Isabel’s sore arm with gentle hands, insisting that even His Majesty had a surprisingly awkward side.

Maybe it was because Meli liked people, Isabel thought, that she saw their relationship in such a positive light.

But the reality was something else. She was nothing more than a hostage, bound to him by a forced marriage.

The thought of Kailhart made something tighten in her lower abdomen. Isabel forced herself to relax her legs, which had tensed without her realizing.

Every time he held her—pounded into her—she struggled just to endure it. And whenever she tried to look away or close her eyes, unable to withstand his relentless touch, Kailhart would always cup her cheek and force her to look back at him.

Locking eyes with that jet-black gaze, Isabel realized that there were sensations she never even knew existed before she became entangled with him.

She learned that what passed between them wasn’t only pain.

As she felt that burning pulse deep inside her, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, what Kailhart wanted from her wasn’t just her body.

Held in his strong arms, his grip gentle on her wrist, his legs locking hers firmly in place, Isabel thought—she understood, for the first time that no matter how much she tried to build a wall and push him away, Kailhart could never truly be a stranger to her.

No one in the world could ever come closer to her than he did, bridging a gap that no one else would dare cross.

She couldn’t simply let him use her body and then cast him aside.

Her feverish mind spun with tangled thoughts. Isabel squeezed her eyes shut, trying to break free of them.

“Ah, did that hurt?”

“No, I’m all right.”

For a brief moment, she let herself cling to a foolish hope, unaware that being dragged to the emperor’s bed while still ill would have been the lesser evil, compared to what was about to happen next.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

“What… is this?”

What’s happening?

Isabel looked up at Kailhart, but his expression was as cold as ever.

Just as she opened her mouth to ask, Kailhart jerked his chin toward the attendants behind him.

“P-Princess, I—”

Meli, who had been helping Isabel get dressed, tried to speak, but her words died in her throat.

At the emperor’s command, the attendants at the back surged forward, seizing Meli’s arms and forcing her down onto her knees.

Combs and empty vases crashed to the floor, shattering with a deafening noise.

As they pinned her down among the shards, their hands gripping her limbs, there wasn’t a hint of mercy in their touch.