She had encountered the Pantheon Knights once before at the ballroom. Naturally, she had assumed he was merely another unfamiliar knight and had not looked closely at Rekri.

Boys could transform into young men in only a few short years, but even so, his growth was astonishing.

“I used to visit the forge often with His Majesty the Emperor when we were young. That is why I remember you, Rekri. If I recall correctly, we were on fairly easy terms.”

Clodine offered him a rare, warm smile. She was genuinely glad to see Rekri Alexia again.

Ahazan had always been deeply attached to his swords. From the moment he began learning swordsmanship, he frequented the forge whenever he had the chance. Rekri was the only son of Ruksem Alexia, the master blacksmith of the imperial forge. The boy had practically lived there, proudly declaring he would one day become a great blacksmith like his father, crafting and repairing the Emperor’s blades.

Clodine, who had often accompanied Ahazan to the forge, remembered that red-haired child vividly.

“You were quite small back then, if I recall correctly. You’ve grown beyond recognition. How long have you served as a knight of the Pantheon?”

Rekri stood rigidly, offering no reply. Once talkative and cheerful, the boy had become strikingly taciturn.

When had he been recruited into the Pantheon Knights? How had the boy who once dreamed of becoming a blacksmith chosen instead to become the Emperor’s blade himself?

She had many questions, yet Rekri remained silent.

Unable to endure the discourtesy, Cal spoke sharply.

“Her Majesty the Empress has asked you something. Answer properly, Rekri.”

Rekri shot Cal a look of frustration and indignation. He opened his mouth as if to retort, glanced once at Clodine, then answered reluctantly.

“Four years ago. By His Majesty’s special appointment.”

“I see. You learned swordsmanship directly from Ahazan from a young age. You must have been more than qualified.”

Clodine responded awkwardly, sensing how forced his reply had been. It seemed best to end the exchange there.

“Regardless, it was good to see you. You may both go.”

“Yes, Your Majesty the Empress.”

Again, only Cal answered properly. Rekri merely inclined his head slightly in silence.

After they departed, Clodine tilted her head and glanced back.

Though she could not hear their words, Cal and Rekri were arguing in low voices as they walked away, quiet, but unmistakably tense.

***

“No matter if she’s the Empress, she’s truly shameless!”

“Watch your mouth, you fool!”

Cal glanced around anxiously to ensure no one was nearby. Rekri, undeterred, continued without lowering his voice.

“You saw it too, didn’t you, sir? You know better than any of us! After His Majesty was betrayed by Her Majesty the Empress, how much he suffered!”

“Rekri, that’s—!”

That was not something he dared put into words. Yet Rekri pressed on quickly.

“Do you know how many enemies died at His Majesty’s hands back then? I had never pitied the enemy before. It wasn’t the Emperor I knew. I’ve never seen him so terrifying!”

“That’s enough. Don’t exaggerate, Rekri.”

Though Rekri spoke no falsehood, Cal tried to dismiss it lightly to calm him. But that only fueled Rekri’s anger.

He halted abruptly and glared at Cal.

“Exaggerate? In the past seven years, have you ever seen His Majesty sleep peacefully? I haven’t. Have you seen him truly smile? I haven’t. He was like a man obsessed with killing the enemy. Even now, I get chills just thinking about it. Look.”

Rekri pulled up his sleeve, baring his arm. Goosebumps rose visibly along his skin.

“That’s why I cannot acknowledge her as Empress. How could she abandon her betrothed, fighting for his life on a battlefield, and marry another man? That’s not something a human being should do.”

“Rekri. Do you want your head to roll before you learn to hold your tongue?”

Cal’s voice, though quiet, carried unmistakable warning.

Cal Regerson had not become the Emperor’s aide by special favor. One in his position required excellence in scholarship, diplomacy, and martial skill alike. In the imperial palace, Cal appeared nothing more than a scholar who wielded only a pen. Few could imagine how formidable he became with a blade in hand.

“Your acknowledgment means nothing. If you are a sword, then behave like one, Rekri. Speak recklessly one more time, and you may lose your life, if not by my hand, then by another’s.”

It was not shouted, but the calm, cutting rebuke carried a chilling edge. For a brief moment, even Rekri, larger in build, instinctively shrank and fell silent.

“What trouble have you caused now, Rekri?”

Ahazan appeared at the worst possible moment.

Cal felt a cold chill run down his spine as he looked toward the approaching Emperor.

‘How much did he hear?’

He prayed the earlier words had not reached him.

Cal forced a broad smile as the thought passed through his mind.

“It’s nothing, Your Majesty.”

It was later than usual in the morning, so Cal had assumed Ahazan was already in his study. The fact that he was not surprised him.

Raising his brows in exaggerated curiosity, Cal asked lightly.

“Don’t tell me you overslept?”

Ahazan let out a short laugh at the look of disbelief on Cal’s face.

“Is that so surprising?”

Cal had no reason to suspect that Ahazan had not slept a single moment through the night. He took the answer at face value.

He shot Rekri a sideways glance, as if to say, ‘See, you fool.’

Whatever the Empress had done in the past, whatever agony the Emperor had endured because of it, this was why Cal could accept her, acknowledge her, and protect her without hesitation.

In the end, she made him live again.

No, only she could make him live again.

She had returned his lost smile. When night fell, he could lie down and close his eyes in sleep. He could trade gentle jokes. The rage that once drove him to stab and kill without restraint had subsided.

‘That’s enough. For now.’

There were other changes in Ahazan since Clodine returned. But for Cal, even those reasons alone were enough to serve her as Empress for life without complaint.

“What’s that?”

Ahazan’s voice broke into Cal’s thoughts as he gestured toward the parchment in Cal’s hand.

‘Ah.’

Cal handed over the rolled parchment.

“Her Majesty drafted a list of those to be invited to the maids’ funeral. She said the names are arranged by importance, so I intend to investigate and ensure proper honors are given accordingly.”

Ahazan unrolled the parchment and fixed his gaze on the first name written at the top.

‘Valoran Lord.’

Clodine did not know in detail which citizens of the Kingdom had been brought to the Empire alongside her. Therefore, this list must have been written with the entirety of Rotermann’s people in mind.

Which meant that, at present, Valoran Lord was the most important person to Clodine among them all.

His gaze lingered on the top name for a long moment before skimming the rest rather carelessly.

“Are you coming from the Empress’s chambers?”

He handed the parchment back to Cal.

“No. I happened to meet Her Majesty in the Marcella Corridor.”

The corridor was named for the statue of the goddess Marcella from imperial legend that stood there. Lavishly adorned, it was usually reserved for walks or leisure. It was far from Clodine’s chambers.

After what had happened the night before, she had gone all the way there for a refreshing morning stroll?

A flicker of irritation stirred within him.

‘Someone nearly abandoned state affairs and drowned himself in drink.’

Until moments ago, Ahazan had been alone in the southern palace library, pouring himself wine before forcing himself to leave.

‘Rest assured. That love will never turn toward you again. Not as long as I live.’

Even if she had tried to return a love once cast toward O’Neil, he should have rejected it coldly.

And yet, why had those words stung so much?

Without pride, without dignity, had he truly hoped that love would turn back to him?

How low must he fall before recognizing how wretched and humiliating this desire was?

‘Then again… even if I knew, could I abandon it?’

Last night had proven as much.

When she spoke of ‘husbands who married for love,’ a violent anger had surged within him. The greasy face of O’Neil Penelope flashed in his mind, and Clodine, still seeming steeped in that so-called love, appeared pitiful and infuriating.

That he could be a better husband than O’Neil.

That he could be stronger, kinder, someone who would stand by her always and never let go of the hand he had regained, whether by will or by force.

He had nearly shouted like a child, asking her to forget that dead love and love him instead.

‘It’s fortunate I held back.’

A faint, self-mocking smile curved his lips as he lowered his gaze.

Cal and Rekri exchanged uneasy glances, sensing something amiss.

Swallowing down the suffocating emotion like poison, Ahazan spoke in a voice that sounded perfectly composed.

“Let’s go do our work.”

A day survived like any other.

Still because Clodine was somewhere beside him, he could survive it, even with an empty heart.

And so, once more, Ahazan suppressed the greed that threatened to surge within him and entrusted himself to the day.