The servant standing with the measuring tape looked at Clodine helplessly.

“Y-Young Lady. Please allow me to take your measurements. I have come under His Majesty’s orders.”

Clodine stood by the window, her arms crossed tightly over her waist as though bracing herself. She gave no reply. After an hour of back-and-forth, everyone except Clodine was visibly exhausted.

“If you refuse, we were told to take you by force. I do not wish to commit such rudeness toward you.”

The servant shifted anxiously from foot to foot. Another attendant beside them added,

“We need to begin preparing the wedding gown now, we are already short on time. There truly isn’t a moment to waste, Young Lady.”

As if there were a madwoman in this world who would spread her arms willingly for a forced marriage like this.

Why did no one here understand that?

Frustration and fury surging through her, Clodine turned sharply toward the servants.

“If anyone lays a hand on me, I will bite my tongue and die on the spot. Remember that.”

“Young Lady…!”

Her brutal threat drained the color from their faces.

“What is all this commotion?”

Just as it seemed someone might burst into tears, the Emperor’s voice cut through the room.

Dressed casually, a long, light outer robe draped over his shoulders, Ahazan looked at ease. He approached at an unhurried pace until he stood before Clodine. His distinct, clear scent lingered at the edge of her senses.

“What are you biting to die?”

He had clearly heard her from outside.

Without the slightest change in expression, Clodine replied evenly,

“I said if anyone touches me, I will bite my tongue and die.”

One corner of Ahazan’s mouth lifted slowly.

Even facing that mocking expression, Clodine’s gaze did not waver.

“I’m certain I told you yesterday, to remember exactly how many lives are tied to your ankles.”

“I’ll say it again. Threatening the lives of prisoners violates the laws of war.”

Even an emperor could not arbitrarily mistreat captives.

Ahazan openly laughed at her.

His shoulders trembled faintly before he looked at her with a bright, almost cheerful expression.

“It’s been violating them for quite some time already. What difference does it make?”

Clodine’s face turned white. She shook her head.

“They are innocent people… decent, kind people…”

“Exactly.”

His tone sharpened.

“So now you should do what you can for them, Clodine.”

“…What?”

“I promise you.”

With that cryptic declaration, Ahazan turned and took the measuring tape from the servant’s hands. He walked back toward Clodine, speaking calmly.

“If you become my Empress willingly, I will grant your people the Grand Territory of Regel.”

Regel.

Clodine stared at him in disbelief.

Among all imperial lands, the Grand Territory of Regel was unrivaled. A vast river cut across its soil, making it fertile. Its size rivaled that of a kingdom. It was a territory the Empire managed with utmost care, reserved for contingencies.

“And I will bestow imperial titles upon your people, befitting their former status.”

Clodine’s thoughts spiraled.

If what Ahazan said was true, the scattered citizens of the Rotermann Kingdom could be gathered once more. Though they had lost their king and their homeland, they could live within a greater and stronger empire, with security and dignity guaranteed.

Suspicion flickered in her eyes.

Ahazan smiled faintly again, as though indulging her.

“If there is anything else you want, say it. I’ll grant you anything.”

He spoke knowing there was little more she could demand.

The arms clutching her waist loosened unconsciously.

This was something she ought to weigh fiercely, to deliberate with anguish. Yet her mind felt disturbingly quiet. She knew exactly what such an offer would mean for her people, now reduced to captives.

There was no comparison to be made.

“If you wish, I’ll draft the contract today.”

Clodine glared at him as though she could kill him, yet she kept her lips sealed.

It was humiliating.

But she was wavering.

Ahazan smiled in satisfaction and lifted a large hand to stroke her dark hair. Normally she would have brushed him away. Today, she did not.

“Everyone, leave. I’ll take the Empress’s measurements myself.”

He had already begun calling her Empress.

The servants, who had been watching anxiously from behind him, obeyed at once. The door closed quietly.

Soon, only Ahazan and Clodine remained.

“Spread your arms, Clodine. I’ll start with your waist.”

His soft voice settled near her ear.

Her hands trembled.

If she obeyed him now, if she raised her arms, she would be silently consenting to this absurd marriage.

The longer she hesitated, the deeper Ahazan’s smile became.

And then—

As if the struggle had gone on long enough—

The strength drained from the hands clasped around her waist.

***

How many days had passed?

Clodine sat up slowly in bed, her body aching. It had not been long since she had collapsed from anemia, and now she had come down with a fever as well. Her body was just as troublesome as her weakened heart.

She brushed aside every hand that rushed to support her and made her way alone to the dressing table.

It had nearly been a month since she had come to the Empire.

In that short time, her appearance had deteriorated so badly that she could hardly bear to look at herself.

She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, then picked up a comb and began brushing it properly.

Applying powder to this pale skin will only make me look paler.

She lifted the white powder, hesitated, and set it back down.

After a long moment of thought, she dipped a thin brush into a solid red pigment and spread it carefully across her lips. The artificial flush brought a faint vitality to her face. At least now, she looked somewhat presentable.

“Bring me a dress. A red one.”

“Yes, Young Lady.”

Merian Bennett, who had remained faithfully at her side, responded at once.

Red was the Empire’s color.

That was why, since childhood, Clodine had favored red above all others. Her dresses, her shoes, her ornaments, so many had been red.

Though at some point, it had become a color she could no longer even bear to look at.

As if they had been waiting for this moment, the servants streamed in carrying red gowns. Clodine selected one that traced her figure without being indecent. She meant to reclaim her composure, not appear vulgar.

“Prepare something light. Fruit and vegetables will do.”

Adornment came first. Now she needed strength.

She could not even remember when she had last eaten properly. She seated herself at the small table by the window, a square napkin spread across her lap, and waited.

The servants whispered among themselves, yet they looked almost delighted at her compliance, no, more than compliance, at her initiative. They served the meal swiftly, as though already prepared.

Clodine chewed and swallowed small portions, careful not to shock her empty stomach. After several bites, she deemed it enough and set down her fork without hesitation.

The other servants watched curiously, wondering what she would do next.

Merian stepped forward and asked politely.

“Where shall I escort you?”

She had guessed correctly. Clodine intended to leave the room.

Clodine studied the perceptive maid for a brief moment, then turned toward the door.

“I am going to His Majesty.”

***

;His Majesty is at the stables.’

Careful not to let mud stain the hem of her dress, Clodine walked toward the stable entrance. If Cal had spoken truly, Ahazan would be there tending to his horse.

“I will go alone from here.”

“But, Young Lady…”

Merian’s voice was heavy with worry. As though she knew something.

“I’ll be fine. Wait here.”

With that light command, Clodine entered the dim stable alone.

The sun had just set, and only sparse lantern light flickered inside.

Crunch. Crunch.

Her steps pressed softly against the packed earth floor.

For a fleeting second, a memory crossed her mind, of running through this place like a carefree child. She quickly pushed it away before it could sour into something painful.

“Clodine?”

Inside the stable, tinted faintly red by the dying light, Ahazan turned his head toward her.

He had been seated with his back to her, beside an old horse lying on its side, breathing shallowly.

Unlike her former self, Clodine bent her knees slightly in a gesture of courtesy.

Ahazan stiffened briefly at the sight, then rose and approached her.

“Let’s go outside.”

There was urgency in his voice.

Clodine gently removed his hand from her shoulder.

“It’s all right, Ahazan.”

She knew very well why both Merian outside and Ahazan before her reacted so sharply.

Clodine was afraid of horses.

Not alwaysbu, t ever since she had suffered a severe accident at the age of ten.

Still, she forced her voice to remain steady.

“Seth seems to be in very poor condition.”

She avoided the concern etched on Ahazan’s face and stepped closer to the horse.

Seth was a magnificent white horse, born the same year as Ahazan. Now old, unable to run, he lay waiting for his final days.

Clodine knelt quietly before him.

It was absurd. What harm could such a weakened animal possibly do?

Yet cold sweat gathered in her palms.

To hide it from Ahazan, she clenched the fabric of her skirt tightly in both hands.

“He won’t last the month.”

He lowered himself beside her. For once, his gaze rested not on Clodine, but on Seth.