There was only one action left for her to take.

Clodine’s hand adjusted its grip on the shard again and again. Uneven breaths slipped through her lips, broken by intermittent sobs. Never in her life had she felt such restlessness.

‘Don’t hesitate. Please.’

She tried to focus on the fact that, if she so chose, she could end Ahazan’s life this very moment.

Cut off this long and bitter tie.
Do not let the chain of resentment continue among the people.
Think only of the years torn apart and ruined after he cast you aside.
Release the anger you are entitled to.
Please, Clodine. Before it’s too late. Now.

“Ah—”

Though her mind issued command after command, what burst forth instead were tears incapable of harming anyone. Her body would not obey her.

It felt as though only she, the sleeping Ahazan, and the sharp shard in her hand existed in a world where morning would never come. The thought pressed in on her like an unbearable reality.

Through the blur of tears that made it difficult to distinguish even the objects before her, her gaze fell upon the faint scar on her left arm, the mark she had inflicted upon herself with hot candle wax on the morning of her wedding.

The agony that had torn through her chest upon learning of the maids’ deaths had already faded that much. In truth, even before it had properly faded, she had nearly forgotten it these past few days.

In contrast, the burn on her left hand had only just begun to form, settling in with cruel clarity. It was not a wound she had chosen to bear, yet it stung fiercely and showed no sign of fading.

That wound was Ahazan.

Everything in this world, no matter how desperately one clung to it, eventually dulled and blurred. But Ahazan alone refused to fade, indeed, the more she tried to erase him, the clearer he became.

Like glue, he clung to her, whether to her mind or her body, it did not matter, sticking fast and stripping away every chance she might have had to become something else.

Clodine stared at the two burns of differing depths with eyes steeped in despair. At last, she collapsed.

The hand that had hovered over Ahazan’s throat, the sharp shard it held, suddenly lost all purpose and trembled helplessly above her folded legs.

‘You truly are a fool, Clodine.’

She hated the love she could never kill.

That was the only emotion left in her heart.

To the people of Rotermann, it would have been a sinful feeling. To Clodine herself, it was the embodiment of shame.

She sank down beside Ahazan’s bed and stared silently at the white shard that had slipped from her grasp and now lay on the floor. The first light of dawn had begun to fill the room, glinting off its surface.

The fear that had haunted her proved meaningless, being trapped forever in a world without morning alongside Ahazan had never been possible to begin with.

Her eyes squeezed shut as her body trembled.

Large tears fell, one after another.

***

The journey, long yet short, came to an end with that night, at once rapturous and horrific.

Unlike on their departure, Ahazan rode in the carriage beside Clodine on their return. Seated across from her, he rested his elbow on the armrest and propped his chin upon his hand, gazing out the window. Each time the carriage jolted along the rough forest road, his calm yet intent eyes flicked toward Clodine to study her complexion.

“If you’re tired, shall we stop and rest for a while?”

Clodine looked quietly at Ahazan, who was asking the same question for the third time, and gave the same answer as before.

“No. There’s no need.”

Each time she replied that way, Ahazan offered a faint smile whose meaning was impossible to read, then turned his gaze back outside. No further conversation followed for some time. To Clodine, that silence was a small mercy.

After another half day of travel, the carriage at last reached the great walls of the capital.

Countless honor guards stood in formation, lining the path from outside the gates to welcome the Emperor and Empress returning from their journey. The citizens, recognizing the imperial procession at once, kept a respectful distance while cheering brightly and waving handkerchiefs. In truth, the city still carried the lingering excitement of the royal wedding festivities.

Clodine extended her hand from the carriage window and waved slowly beside Ahazan. She forced a smile toward the crowd, though it did not come easily.

Their eyes met several times along the way. Though her smile was not meant for him, the fact that they faced one another and smiled together felt strangely unsettling. Each time, Clodine did not let her gaze linger long; she turned naturally back toward the cheering crowd.

The lively procession continued for quite some time.

“I will receive the ministers later.”

Once the procession ended and they reached the inner gates of the palace, Ahazan spoke abruptly the moment he stepped down from the carriage.

The officials who had waited since morning for an audience with the imperial couple exchanged startled glances.

Among them stood Count Ramier, Clodine’s father.

Ordinarily, he would have been the one to greet the Emperor at the closest distance. Yet today, stepping forward ahead of him was Marquess Lyle Anderson.

There were many sharp eyes watching Count Ramier, now formally the Emperor’s father-in-law. The arrangement for Lyle Anderson to take the lead in greeting had been agreed upon in advance.

Marquess Anderson had long been close friends with Count Ramier, so Clodine was well acquainted with him. The Anderson family, renowned for generations as an eminent scholarly house, had long been responsible for educating the imperial family. In that sense, Lyle Anderson had once been Ahazan’s childhood tutor.

“Your Majesty, however, the banquet with the distinguished guests has already been prepared…”

“Lyle.”

Before the marquess could finish, still visibly flustered, Ahazan gently cut him off. Though his tone was mild, the cold smile at the corner of his lips was unmistakable.

“There is no need to rush, is there?”

Within that single sentence lay a clear refusal to entertain further persuasion.

Marquess Anderson was an upright official who did not shy away from offering honest counsel, even though he was often overpowered by the Emperor’s presence. This time, however, he understood that it was best to withdraw. He lowered his head cleanly in acknowledgment.

Clodine watched the entire exchange from behind Ahazan’s shoulder. In fact, because he had been standing squarely before her from the start, she had not even stepped down from the carriage yet.

Only after settling the matter of the banquet did Ahazan turn and extend his hand toward her.

Before countless officials, soldiers, and servants, Clodine descended from the carriage under Ahazan’s escort.

Despite the many eyes upon them, he remained impeccably courteous to her. Walking side by side, his hand secured both her waist and her own, in a manner one might call devoted.

To Clodine, it was honestly unfamiliar.

In Rotermann, no matter that she had been queen, she had never been escorted by the king in such a way. Husband and wife walked together, yes—but always with distance between them. When assistance was needed, it was usually the attendants who provided it.

Yet Ahazan’s singular conduct did not end there.

Turning slightly toward Merian, who followed behind Clodine, he said.

“The Empress’s fatigue from travel must be addressed first. Prepare a meal and a bath in her chambers.”

His voice was quiet but distinct.

Those gathered nearby widened their eyes or began murmuring at his demeanor. It was clear they had not expected the man known for his coldness in all matters to treat his wife with such tenderness.

Ahazan deliberately matched his stride entirely to Clodine’s slower pace, guarding her side closely as they walked. With so many witnesses, word of how he treated her would soon circulate among the nobility.

And if Clodine knew Ahazan at all, then he had surely calculated that outcome long before acting.

‘What possible benefit does Ahazan gain by showing others this side of himself toward me?’

No matter how she considered it, she could not find the answer.

Even the late O’Neil Penelope had treated her like a collectible easily acquired. Because of that, Clodine had always been forced to confront the humiliation of knowing her value had never been regarded as more than that of a well-bred woman from a distinguished house—or a fitting ornament to uphold the dignity of the man who possessed her.

When she inadvertently looked up at Ahazan, his face appeared utterly gentle, as though everything unfolding were the most natural thing in the world.

The moment he sensed her gaze, he looked back at her and smiled faintly.

As in the plaza earlier, she could not ignore the eyes watching them. So Clodine, too, returned his smile, for appearance’s sake.

***

The palace where they would reside together was designated as the southern wing of the main palace, where Ahazan’s office and the grand banquet hall were located.

By custom, the Emperor and Empress maintained separate chambers; typically, they were even assigned different buildings.

Yet for reasons unknown, their rooms were placed within the same building, twin chambers divided by a single wall, side by side.

Clodine could not help but feel startled at the sight.

‘This is practically the same as living together…’

She had secretly believed that within the imperial palace, aside from official engagements, she would be able to keep her distance from Ahazan. She had even felt a measure of relief because of it.

But this was entirely unforeseen.

Ahazan read the flicker of dismay on her face with uncanny ease and let out a low chuckle.

“It seems you were expecting a different arrangement, Clodine.”

Unable to deny it outright, she asked bluntly,

“What exactly is all this?”

Unlike Clodine, Ahazan appeared thoroughly pleased with the prepared chambers. He looked between the two rooms with satisfaction.

At the same time, the arm that had encircled her waist rose to rest upon her shoulders. With his strong arm enveloping her slender frame, he leaned close and whispered near her ear.

“What else would it be? A design of my own making.”