A faint voice buzzed in the distance, growing louder as it drew nearer. At the same time, her numb hands and stiff legs began to throb with pain, slowly dragging her back to consciousness.

Her head ached and felt as though it was splitting open. Even when she tried to think, her thoughts broke apart and scattered like fragments. She wanted to stop, to give in, to forget everything. For a moment, the urge to run and escape it all overwhelmed her.

‘I have to get up. At least I have to save the children…’

But the thought vanished almost as soon as it had come. Fighting through the fog clinging to her mind, Anita forced her heavy eyelids open.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she opened her eyes. The world was dim and blurred. Was someone there? Or was it just the ceiling? Shapes of uncertain form swayed and warped before her, like ripples of heat in the air.

“The palace… hurry…”

The faint voice grew clearer. Several figures entered and began to examine her. It took Anita some time to recognize the person examining her so carefully, the court physician she had seen several times before.

“Where… am I…?”

Her lips were dry and cracked, and her voice was little more than a rasp. Her vision still wavered, refusing to focus.

“Your Highness, please don’t move. Stay still, all right?”

Someone beside her spoke gently and soothingly, so tenderly that the sound alone nearly brought her to tears. But when she realized who it was, her eyes widened in disbelief, and she strained her weak neck to turn.

“Y–Your Majesty.”

“Shh. You must stay still until the physician has finished.”

The person sitting beside her was the Emperor.

It was only then that Anita realized that this place was unfamiliar; it wasn’t the Crown Prince’s palace. She was in the Central Palace. The Emperor’s quarters.

Startled, Anita tried to sit up, but the Emperor raised a hand, urging her to stay where she was. The physician examined her carefully, murmured to the attendants, and cast quick, wary glances towards her before leaning closer to whisper something to the Emperor.

“Leave us.”

The Emperor ordered quietly.

It took Anita a while to fully regain her senses, long enough for her to sit up unaided and drink water. When she did so, the Emperor gestured for everyone to leave.

The chamberlain dismissed the physician and attendants, looking concerned, then bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

Now, only the Emperor and Anita remained.

It was only after everyone had left that Anita truly looked at the Emperor and couldn’t hide her shock.

‘I didn’t realize his condition was this grave.’

Although everyone knew the Emperor’s illness had worsened, compared to the last time she had seen him about a month ago, his decline was startling. It was no wonder he avoided public appearances, except for a chosen few.

His cheeks were hollow, and his skin was drawn tight over deep lines. His eyes still held the majesty of a born ruler, yet the light within them flickered like a dying flame. Even beneath his many layers of heavy robes, his frailty was visible, the fabric draped loosely around him like a shroud.

“I am well enough.”

The emperor said with a faint smile, as though reading her thoughts.

“I’ve always been weak to the cold. Once the weather warms up, you’ll see  I’ll look much better.”

His tone was gentle and humorous, intended to put her at ease. But when another dry, cutting cough tore through his chest, the lie unraveled in an instant. Anita could plainly see that he was not well at all.

She hesitated, her words caught in her throat. Then, remembering what mattered most, she moved abruptly, rolling off the bed and sinking to her knees before him.

“Your Highness, the Crown Princess!”

“Your Majesty, please save them.”

“…”

“I know what happened in Callithea. I will ask for nothing else. Please, just save my young niece and nephew and their mother.”

Seizing the clearly unwell Emperor and begging him was humiliating. But Anita had no other option. The emperor before her was the only person in Laxion who might be both sympathetic and powerful enough to grant her plea.

“I will pay any price. Please bring those children here.”

“…”

“I will give you all the estates I own. I will fully transfer the revenue rights of Relua to Laxion. You may also find holdings that my mother left me if you search. I can transfer those rights to House Fion, too.”

“..…”

“If what I have left in Callithea is insecure or insufficient, I have small plots and certain rights in the Duchies of Aren and Denter.”

By this point, her assets in Callithea were, for all intents and purposes, gone. However, if Laxion were to exert its influence, it could claim most of the property with legal title and documentation. Moreover, properties held abroad could not be seized recklessly by the rebels.

“My niece and nephew must have such claims too especially Karl — he’s my brother’s rightful heir. The titles and rights that would accrue to him could greatly benefit Laxion.”

Gathering all her remaining strength, she presented her case to the Emperor. Even so, it felt insufficient. Desperate, she offered up her own kin, her young, terrified niece and nephew using the only argument she had left: their future worth. It was a shameful bargain, but survival came first. Only the living could plan for tomorrow.

“Crown Princess… no, Anita. My child.”

The Emperor murmured, leaning forward. His thin hands trembled as he tried to lift her from the floor. But Anita shook her head, refusing to rise. She remained on her knees, her forehead bowed.

“Have you spoken to Cedric? What did my son say to you?”

The weary emperor sighed deeply as he uttered his son’s name, his gaze fixed on Anita’s lips. His expression was a mixture of hope and dread, as though he were facing an irreversible decision.

“His Highness said he was searching for my niece and nephew. He promised he would help them.”

Cedric had said those words before she lost consciousness. Yet, although she believed him, Anita couldn’t shake her unease.

“It isn’t that I doubt His Highness, I just… I just need to be sure.”

Fearing that her words might offend him, Anita hurried on. Seeing how tense and anxious she was, the Emperor frowned and gripped her hand more tightly.

“Cedric…”

For a moment, a hint of relief crossed the Emperor’s face. He glanced up at the ceiling and murmured something under his breath, then his weary eyes returned to Anita.

“Do not worry.”

It was a secret he should never have revealed, but his body had long since deteriorated beyond all hope. The Emperor had been born with a weak constitution and had suffered from a lifelong cough. In his youth, he had strengthened himself through discipline and training enough to live a normal life. However, after his wife’s death, his health began to steadily decline.

When the Crown Prince came of age, the palace physician warned him that he might have only five to seven years left. Around that time, the Emperor had insisted that Cedric marry Anita.

“I, too, sent men to search for your family the moment I heard the news.”

It had been a particularly harsh winter that year. The late Empress often appeared to him in his dreams so vividly that he would sometimes wake up calling her name. He could no longer govern as swiftly or decisively as he once had.

Naturally, he had learned of Callithea’s downfall later than Cedric. Although he had already dispatched his own agents, he could not be certain how much they could accomplish in time.

“You will not have to suffer another loss. You have my word, you may trust me.”

Even so, the Emperor knew it was a promise he might not be able to keep. Yet he spoke calmly, concealing the tremor of hesitation in his voice, because Anita needed hope and he could not bear to take it from her.

“Now, please stand up, my child. You are—”

The Emperor’s voice trembled with emotion. He could not help it. His son had finally shown a glimmer of hope. Although Cedric had long despised his wife, he had promised to protect her family.

As a father, the Emperor chose to believe him. He forced himself to set aside his doubts and clung to the hope that, however unlikely, his son might yet follow the path of reconciliation that he had always wished for him.

And there was the young woman kneeling at his feet, his son’s wife, the poor girl he had practically forced into marriage.

“You are not alone, Anita.”

She was pregnant.

To the Emperor, her pregnancy was more than just a source of joy; it was a form of salvation. He had noticed the signs: his son, who had once shown open disdain for her, was now helplessly drawn towards her.

It may be an unforgivable sin to see her this way…

He knew he was using the girl before him, his trembling, grief-stricken daughter-in-law to guide his son towards the right path. But even though he was burdened by guilt, the Emperor felt a quiet relief. The child she carried might become a symbol of harmony, leading Cedric towards warmth and peace.

Hoping that his wish was close to being fulfilled, the Emperor gently took Anita’s arm and smiled faintly.

“The court physician has confirmed it beyond doubt. I should have been the first to offer my congratulations, but please forgive me for being so late.”

At the Emperor’s touch, Anita slowly rose to her feet, her face a mask of disbelief.

“Not alone? Pregnant?”

The words barely registered. Her mind went blank. She had always had irregular periods and had assumed this was no different. But as the truth sank in, the color drained from her face.

“I should hold a splendid celebration for you, but for now, we must be careful. Given the current turmoil, I worry that something might happen to you. Since it’s still early, it’s best to keep it a secret until the baby starts to show.”

He guided her back to the bed, and as she sat down, Anita’s gaze fell to her stomach.

It was still flat and unchanged. She lifted a trembling hand and placed it on her abdomen.

“Ah…”

A strange feeling coursed through her,  something she could neither name nor resist. Despair and relief collided in her chest, twisting together into an unfamiliar, painful sensation. She felt fear, yet also a fragile sense of solace.

Why? Why did this comfort her?

While she sat in stunned silence, the Emperor waited patiently, saying nothing until some trace of focus returned to her eyes. Then, in a low, solemn voice, he spoke again.

“Anita.”

“…”

“Promise me one thing.”

“…”

“No matter what happens, you must protect the child. The life inside you… it is—”

The Emperor’s voice faltered halfway through his speech, fading into silence.

He believed that every child should be a blessing. Yet looking at the young woman before him, her eyes red and raw with grief, he could not bring himself to describe the life in her womb as such.

He already suspected the cruelty his son had inflicted. To tell Anita that this child was a gift from heaven would have been an unbearable lie. Even worse, he an ageing father, desperate to salvage what remained of his family had already begun to see the unborn child as a means to save his son’s soul.

“This child will give you strength.”

He finally managed to say, though the words burned his throat. Each syllable scraped and faltered, falling heavily between them.

“I know things are unbearably hard for you right now, but you must endure. You must for the child’s sake and for your own. Only then can you begin to shape what comes after.”

The Emperor held her trembling hands in his frail ones, speaking as if his words were for her alone. Yet beneath that gentle tone was the weight of his own guilt, a prayer that his selfish hope might still bring her comfort.

“For now, you are the only one left who can stand as the elder of House Hardyde. Never forget that, Anita.”

At the mention of her family, Anita’s expression changed. Her eyes cleared, revealing a new, fragile resolve. She clasped her shaking hands tightly over her stomach, as though trying to hold the pieces of her broken heart together.