Sunlight streamed into the room, casting long, bright streaks across the floor.

Suddenly, there was a faint rustle from the bed in the corner, accompanied by the sound of someone trying to get up.

“…Stay where you are.”

From the moment he entered the room, Cedric’s gaze never left the bed. His voice, low and edged with steel, cut through the room’s heavy stillness.

The figure lying there flinched at the sound and shrank back slightly. A muscle pulsed along Cedric’s temple, and the vein on his forehead tightened as he took a step forward. Moving towards the bed through a shaft of sunlight, he reached out and drew the canopy curtain aside in one swift motion.

Light flooded the space.

Blinking against the glare, Cedric looked down and froze. There she was: Anita, frail and gaunt, her body reduced to little more than skin and bone. Beneath the sheets, the soft curve of her stomach rose gently. She pushed herself halfway up and met his gaze with trembling eyes.

“…Your Highness.”

Her pale face and weak greeting irritated him. Cedric clenched his jaw, restraining himself from reprimanding her for neglecting her health. The palace physicians had been unequivocal: his wife must not suffer another shock.

The memory of that dangerous night returned, and for a moment, Cedric wished he had punished the Borlieu girl more severely than exile. As soon as he left the room, he would ensure that she was under surveillance. Having such a spiteful daughter would be nothing short of a disgrace for Count Borlieu.

“Lie down. There’s no need to sit up. It’s pointless.”

“This is more comfortable. If I stay lying down too long, I start to get headaches…”

She lowered her gaze, gauging his mood. Cedric started to step closer, but then stopped. Nevertheless, the way she instinctively shrank away whenever he got close made him feel irritated, and he folded his arms without meaning to.

“Your niece is safe. She’ll soon reclaim her title as princess.”

Cedric, who had been watching Anita, deliberately turned his gaze aside as he spoke.

“Truly? Ah…”

For the first time in many visits, a faint light flickered across her face, dispelling the perpetual gloom. Cedric thought, briefly, that it was fortunate the young Princess of Callithea had survived.

“There will be opposition, of course. But they’re merely remnants of the rebellion. Once time has passed and things settle, she’ll ascend the throne under a regency for a while, perhaps, but still as emperor.”

“Emperor…”

Although Anita was overjoyed to hear that her niece was safe, her happiness quickly turned to worry. No matter how legitimate the claim was, the child was only six. An emperor? Such a heavy, perilous burden would surely crush her. The throne, gilded as it was, could easily become a gallows for someone so young.

A grim thought seized her. More than honor or glory, survival mattered now. After a moment’s hesitation, she called softly:

“Your Highness.”

“….”

“As I said before, if she has to be placed under a regency, why can’t Isabelle come here to Laxion? I cannot help but worry. She has hardly any family left to rely on, and if something were to happen to her—”

“No.”

Cedric cut her off sharply. Unable to bear watching her tremble any longer, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took her restless hands in his, holding them firmly yet gently.

“In Callithea, even a princess can ascend the throne. That is precisely why your niece is the most legitimate heir of all. No one can contest her right.”

He knew she was right. Isabelle would indeed be safer in Laxion. Yet the moment she crossed its borders, the world would see it as abdication. They would brand her a coward who had fled her nation and relinquished her crown.

Even if that were not true, the factions would twist it to make it so. Callithea’s imperial loyalists would never relinquish the last surviving heir of House Hardyde, the living emblem of the legitimacy that bound their crumbling power together.

“It’s unfortunate. But the situation is difficult. They’re rebels, yes, but as you know, Callithea is divided in many ways. The power among the factions is almost equal. Even with aid from Laxion and other nations, one wrong move could lead to the downfall of those who still support the princess.”

“But still—”

“Have you forgotten last winter?”

Anita flinched. Cedric’s tone cut coldly through her plea. Winter was the season in which the Callithean royal family had been captured in a single night. The memory alone made the blood drain from her face.

“Enough. Didn’t you hear what the physicians said? If you let your emotions run loose again, it won’t be good for the child.”

His voice hardened with warning as he watched her tremble like a leaf in the wind. Then, releasing her hands, he drew one arm around her narrow shoulders.

“Anita.”

But even in his embrace, she could not calm down. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps. Cedric’s last shred of patience snapped as he watched her.

“Anita Fion.”

His voice was low and authoritative. Sensing the change in his tone, Anita looked up at him, despite her fear.

“Pull yourself together. The only thing left to you now is the child you’re carrying. You’re not thinking of losing my child, are you?”

His words were accusatory rather than concerned, a reminder of purpose rather than affection. There was no hint of the thought of fatherhood in his voice; he sounded like a man warning her not to fail him. Anita shook her head quickly, clutching her stomach with one hand.

“Good.”

Cedric murmured. He drew her closer, his fingers threading gently through her long hair. To her, however, it felt suffocating, a controlling act disguised as care.

The child was not something she could afford to lose either. That small life was her only means of survival, and her one fragile hope of restoring something of Hardyde’s fallen name. She tightened her grip protectively over her abdomen.

“…Don’t worry.”

As her trembling finally subsided, Cedric felt his own nerves ease. He continued to smooth her hair, his voice becoming almost placid.

“Laxion is protecting your niece and so am I. So there’s only one thing you need to think about now.”

“….”

“Stay here quietly and take care of yourself.  Keep your body strong, and deliver a healthy child.”

“……”

“That is your duty, your purpose, and what you must accomplish. Do you understand?”

Purpose.

The word cut deep, striking Anita’s heart like a blade. Her heart clenched painfully. She kept whispering ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again in her mind until Cedric paused expectantly, waiting for her answer. At last, she nodded reluctantly.

“…Yes. I will do as Your Highness commands.”

He was greatly pleased by her submissive reply. He tilted her head up and gently kissed her pale forehead. What had once been difficult now came easily. Even naturally.

Yet for Anita, his touch now more frequent than ever felt heavier each time.

“Your Highness.”

Nevertheless, she had no one else to rely on but the man in front of her. He was the only person who could protect her niece and ensure her survival. So Anita did the only thing she could: she nestled quietly into his arms and called to him again.

When his gaze met hers, she spoke with quiet desperation.

“I trust you, Your Highness.”

Unlike Cedric, Anita had no means of coercing or threatening him. The best she could do was plead with him, trying to soothe and submit to him in the hope that he would show her mercy. Looking up at him as if he were a god, her voice trembled with devotion and fear.

“I believe that Your Highness will protect Isabelle… my Belle. Truly.”

Cedric gave no verbal reply. He merely nodded curtly once.

His hand moved slowly and deliberately downwards. First it brushed against the curve of her chest, then it rested on her abdomen. Beneath his palm, her body was slender, but her stomach had begun to swell with new life. The sight made him click his tongue softly, but pride soon lifted the corner of his mouth.

He ran his hand over the gentle swell again and again, closing his eyes for a moment. He would rest here briefly before leaving.

“Your Highness…”

When it became clear that he was going to stay, Anita hesitated before speaking.

Why did she always falter like this? She was even frustrated by her own hesitation. Cedric’s brow twitched at the sound of her wavering tone, though he kept his eyes closed.

“Do you have more to say? Then say it.”

“The coronation… I heard it’s only a few days away.”

At that, Cedric’s eyes snapped open.

“I only heard rumors. Nothing official yet.”

The coronation. The long-awaited event now felt suddenly imminent. There was a brief pause, and silence hung thick in the air. Then Cedric rose from the bed, his movements controlled yet edged with irritation.

Sensing the shift in his mood, Anita froze, holding her breath. Despite the fear tightening her throat, she pressed on, her voice trembling yet resolute.

“My body feels a bit heavy, but… I can still attend. I can walk in the garden, so sitting through a ceremony shouldn’t be too difficult.”

For an emperor to be crowned, his wife had to be present, this confirmed her status as empress.

In Laxion, the empress’s coronation was also a legal requirement. If the crown prince had a lawful consort, the two ceremonies were usually held on the same day or within a short time of each other. Only once this ritual had been completed would she be officially recognized as empress. Her name would be recorded in imperial documents, and she would be honored with rites befitting her rank.

“No.”

Cedric’s curt refusal echoed through the room. He got up from the bed without looking at her; his voice was as cold as ice.

Anita froze, taken aback by his tone. He turned his back on her, casting his words over his shoulder as though they required no discussion.

“You can’t be in crowded places.”

“……”

“It’s for the child. You don’t have another choice.”

With that, he was gone before she could say another word.

Thud.

The door closed behind him, sucking all the air out of the room with it. Anita sat in silence, staring at the door through which he had disappeared. Gradually, her gaze shifted to her stomach, and she lowered her head.