Chapter 13
‘Thank you… for liking me.’
‘But you and I… it can’t be.’
Those were the words seventeen-year-old Rone once said. Navel hadn’t forgotten them, of course.
He had wanted to steal those small lips.
The urge was strong, but since he hadn’t been given permission, he had only stolen a kiss on her forehead and then fled like a thief into the night.
“Even now… is it still impossible between us, sister?”
His low voice reverberated through the room.
Navel tilted his head slightly.
Still impossible?
Because I’m younger than you? Or because I’m too lacking compared to you?
Or perhaps… something else?
It was then Rone opened her mouth.
“Too many would oppose it.”
An emperor’s marriage could not be decided so easily.
Her thoughts felt within his reach.
Navel shook his head.
“I don’t care what they think.”
Because I want you.
If you want me too.
The distance between them narrowed.
Navel looked at her hand resting on the bed.
The moment he took that hand, he would hear her answer—her true thoughts, free from matters of the throne, dynastic marriages, or politics.
Would she choose to stay here, by his side?
Or would she choose to leave?
“May I… hold your hand?”
Still, he dared not read her heart without permission.
His hand did not touch hers, but instead pressed down beside it.
His body leaned closer to hers.
Again and again, he moved as though to grasp her hand, then stopped himself, sighing in frustration.
“If it’s wrong… if you won’t allow it, then say so.”
With these lips.
His fingers brushed against her soft lower lip.
Trembling fingertips traced her mouth gently, like touching fragile ice on a shallow puddle that might shatter with the slightest pressure.
“Is it still impossible between us, sister?”
“…No.”
Rone’s reply was impulsive, so quick it startled even herself.
Navel let out a low laugh. It was a far more promising answer than hesitation could have been.
Even without holding her hand, he now knew she felt the same as he did.
How lovely.
Navel chuckled softly as he gently took her wrist. His fingers brushed against the inside of her wrist, almost as though checking her pulse—two fingers lightly pressing before his thumb stroked the beat beneath the delicate skin.
Then his hand enclosed her slender wrist completely.
“……”
He wanted to embrace her tightly.
He wanted to leave his mark all over her.
Dangerous desires swelled inside his mind. But not yet. Not now.
Above all, she was weary from the long journey. Physician Domel had said her body was weakened, that she should even start her meals from thin porridge.
He could not burden her further. No matter how sweet the time would be, he did not want her to suffer or fall ill.
“……”
Navel carefully lifted her hand, almost as if borrowing it, and pressed his lips to her fingertips.
They weren’t the well-kept nails of other noble ladies. These were worn, the hands of someone who had endured much hardship.
And her skin—so pale it was nearly translucent. Proof she had rarely seen the sun.
A soft kiss lingered on her fingertip.
Then his lips trailed up, brushing over the knuckle, slipping between her fingers where the tip of his warm tongue flicked lightly before withdrawing.
“Ah.”
The sudden ticklish sensation made Rone’s cheeks flush as heat spread upward from her hand.
“Sister.”
Navel’s voice was low as he called her.
“…Yes.”
Her breathing had grown unsteady. She knew well what he wanted.
The boy she had once seen only as her younger brother was now a man—
And he was speaking boldly.
Don’t see me as just your little brother anymore.
“Do you want me to be a tyrant… or a just king?”
His voice was sweet, as though her single word could decide everything.
Rone looked at him.
“…Of course, it’s better for you to be a just king.”
“Why?”
He lifted her hand and pressed another kiss onto the back of it.
“…Because I don’t want you to be hated.”
I don’t want you to suffer the scorn of others as I have.
Through the touch of his lips, her feelings reached him. Navel closed his eyes.
“Even long ago, you were the only one for me.”
Another kiss—this time to the soft inside of her wrist. As he bent her hand back slightly, he felt the rapid thrum of her pulse. He pressed his lips firmly there, leaving a faint mark.
“That hasn’t changed even now.”
His voice thickened, rough with emotion.
“—I don’t care if I’m hated by others. Even so…”
He tilted his head.
“Even so, do you still want me to be a just king?”
Loved and cherished by all—do you want me to be that kind of ruler?
Rone met his blue gaze.
The choice was hers.
If he became a tyrant, nothing would be beyond his control. Their marriage would be no obstacle. The Iber royal line had always wielded overwhelming imperial power.
He bore Iber’s blood. He could rule as a tyrant if he wished.
“……”
But Navel did not press her for an answer. Instead, he kissed her wrist once more.
With his “hand that sees truth,” he had already built an unshakable power on the battlefield. Coupled with his royal blood, he could easily reign as a tyrant.
But if Rone did not want that, he would not.
His eyes gleamed dangerously, but at last, Rone gave a small nod. Her long thoughts ended.
“…Yes. Be a just king.”
The Western Empire was already steeped in the atmosphere of tyrants.
Only now did she realize what she had seen all day—the fearful glances of people, their unease.
It was all directed at Navel.
The gentleness he showed existed only here, with her.
The tyrant’s face was what he needed to stand alone.
She wrapped her arms around him, knowing how lonely he must have been.
“Then… will you stay by my side?”
He whispered the question softly.
His hand slid further along her wrist, down her arm, cupping her elbow before tracing upward again. This time, his lips pressed against her rounded shoulder—so small and delicate, in stark contrast to his own broad, sword-hardened shoulders.
“…Yes.”
She gave a small nod.
Her flushed cheeks and shallow breaths reflected in his eyes.
They were so very close.
“To be a just king… there must be a reason for us.”
A tyrant could do whatever he wished. But a just king could not.
“We must convince those who question why we are together.”
There was a faint edge of complaint in her voice.
Navel looked at her.
At such close distance, their gazes locked.
“…A reason?”
He tilted his head at her words.
“Yes.”
His hand holding hers was burning hot.
“For example… my selfish desire.”
Rone widened her eyes.
Navel looked at her—and pressed a kiss onto her forehead.
Just like that night long ago, when they parted. A kiss as light as a knock.
As though asking, May I desire you more?
She did not push him away.
“……”
He smiled faintly, then kissed the tip of her nose.
Then, carefully, he explored her upper lip. Like knocking once more, he brushed at her lower lip, and Rone let out a short breath.
“Ah…”
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Navel was no longer a child.
His hand gripped hers tightly as he pressed her back slightly.
“Yes… this kind of desire.”
This time, his lips pressed harder against hers. Not soft as before, but demanding, almost rough, stealing her breath away.
“…Ah.”
So deep she grew dizzy. So intense her strength melted away.
They pulled back just enough that their lashes nearly brushed.
“I want you not just warm to me… but burning.”
His breath was ragged, his voice thick.
“If you don’t want this, push me away.”
His gaze never wavered. His words boiled at the edge of his throat.
“Then I’ll stop.”
He had never forgotten the promise of their youth—
That he would never harm her.
But if she wanted him—
Navel kissed her nose again. Rone did not push him away.
She couldn’t move, not because his grip was too strong, but because of how preciously he treated her.
As though she were the most priceless treasure, a gift never to be marred.
He wasn’t lying—he would never harm her.
She didn’t need the “hand that sees truth” to know that.
And so, Rone did not pull away.
“…Look at me.”
Drawn by his words, she met his eyes.
His lips found hers once more.
Rone’s body leaned back onto the bed.
