Chapter 15
“Are you satisfied?”
Ern asked after letting out what must have been his twentieth sigh.
He pulled out one of the cigars he’d been saving. As the box clicked shut, the faint crackle of a flame followed.
“Satisfied? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I mean, so why pretend otherwise?”
Ern shot his emperor a sideways glare.
The man hadn’t taken his eyes off the window.
Not that there was much to see—just the palace garden and the outer walls of Devita Palace.
He was not the type to care about such things. So what, exactly, was he looking at?
“Choosing a maid as your empress was excessive, Your Majesty. You might as well have chosen Miss Rose.”
“Rose?”
“Rose Kenneth. Have you forgotten already?”
Ern’s tone was incredulous.
Sure, he was the one who had ordered that scandal to be spread, but still—it had been quite the uproar! And yet the man had already forgotten?
“Ah.”
“You really did forget.”
Ern shook his head. What could you expect from that man?
“Why that maid, of all people? You don’t even like her.”
He asked the question the entire empire wanted answered.
Some newspapers would probably pay half their annual budget to learn the truth behind it.
“I wanted to see.”
“Pardon?”
That maid? When had he ever seen her?
Ern frowned, but Johannes turned away, the flicker of interest in his face already gone. It was the first time since their conversation began that he’d looked away from the window.
“What about Samu Giers?”
“…Why do you wish to see him, Your Majesty?”
Ern asked cautiously.
“Even calling him back to the capital was questionable enough. I took it as some final gesture of mercy, but… there’s no need to meet him personally now, is there?”
Indeed.
Just beyond the door, in the guest reception room, Samu Giers was waiting for the emperor.
Not by his own request—the emperor had summoned him.
“Why did you invite him to the coronation in the first place?”
Ern asked, fixing Johannes with a sharp gaze. What went on inside that head of his?
“Was it political? To show that even if he attended, the new emperor would remain unshaken? That the former crown prince no longer mattered?”
Please, let that be the reason, Ern prayed silently.
But Johannes said nothing. He merely extended a hand toward Ern—asking for a cigar.
“…Your Majesty.”
Ern placed one in his palm.
“The whole world is breaking its neck trying to decipher the meaning behind Your Majesty’s green eyes. Must you hide it even from me?”
“Ern.”
“Yes.”
When Ern looked up hopefully, Johannes tapped the cigar in his mouth.
“Light.”
“…”
Damn him.
Ern Lars cursed every foul word he knew under his breath—but still lit the cigar.
If he didn’t, that mad serpent might just bare his fangs again, and Ern had no interest in provoking that.
“I’ll take my leave, then. Perhaps Your Majesty should meet with Lord Samu Giers.”
Just as Ern was about to throw up his hands and leave—
“I thought he might want to see her too.”
Johannes exhaled a stream of smoke.
“To see that woman… falter.”
Because she was that kind of woman.
The kind who made people want to see her crumble.
“Ern.”
“Yes.”
Lost in thought, Ern snapped to attention at the sound of his name.
“Bring Samu Giers.”
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
Ern quickly withdrew, recognizing the sour mood of his emperor.
Once he was gone, Johannes drew deeply on his cigar. Acrid smoke filled his lungs.
The dim silhouette of Devita Palace grated on him—it felt almost like a silent act of defiance.
She had always been upright, unbending.
Anyone could guess what kind of life she must have lived.
Raised never to waver, believing that was strength.
Believing she was strong because she thought she was.
When, in truth, she had only ever lived in a greenhouse—sheltered from every gust of wind, blooming quietly in still air.
“Or perhaps not.”
Johannes crushed the cigar between two fingers.
“She was just another hothouse flower. Maybe she didn’t want to see that.”
Maybe he was the only one with such twisted tastes. He let out a bitter laugh.
Well, her feelings—
“The sun of the Empire greets you, Your Majesty.”
—could be confirmed soon enough.
They hadn’t held a wedding, but the coronation had taken place.
They weren’t husband and wife in truth, yet she was the empress of the empire.
That meant she owed no duty of the bedchamber—
but she was bound to fulfill countless others as the imperial empress.
Her first duty was this.
Clatter.
The faint sound of silverware colliding echoed in the silence.
Without any conversation, even such small noises rang loud.
Anel felt sick.
She couldn’t swallow the food; she had known from the start she wouldn’t be able to, not in front of that man.
In truth, she was surprised.
She’d thought he would dine with one of his concubines instead.
It would’ve made sense—he despised her, after all.
If he’d invited one of them, he could’ve crushed her pride and avoided the displeasure of her company.
“….”
Anel stole a glance at Johannes.
Though they shared the same room, he felt far away.
Even across a single table, he seemed distant—because he sat directly opposite her.
The palace table was long, made to seat twenty. There was no helping that distance.
“Would Your Majesty like more coffee?”
“I’m fine.”
Anel declined the attendant’s offer.
The man across from her, even at this early hour, was impeccable.
His black three-piece suit held not a single wrinkle, and even the sapphire pin on his tie sat perfectly in place.
The only thing disheveled was him.
He lounged in his chair with a lazy arrogance—so unlike Samu.
Samu had always said he preferred comfort when working.
He’d wear only a shirt, carelessly buttoned—but his posture was always upright.
Humble, courteous.
Even if they shared blood, how could two people be so different? She could hardly believe it.
Johannes didn’t touch his food. He only scanned through his papers, sipping coffee now and then.
If that was all he meant to do, he needn’t have come at all.
Anel forced down another bite.
He must have come just to watch me suffer.
Whether he knew her thoughts or not, Johannes kept writing with his fountain pen.
“If you have something to say, say it, Empress.”
He spoke without looking up.
Anel’s cheeks burned. Being caught stealing would’ve been less embarrassing.
“…I want to know what my name means.”
At the word name, Johannes’s pen halted.
He set the papers aside and looked straight at her.
The gold-rimmed glasses perched on his sharp nose glinted briefly.
“Which name?”
Which name? Anel tightened her grip on her knife.
“Has Your Majesty given me so many names?”
Anel Catenatus Drenegger.
It was only natural that the empress bore the imperial surname Drenegger.
But Catenatus—that was strange.
It was unusual enough for the emperor to give the empress a middle name.
But to choose that one—
The word meant bondage.
To give such a name to the highest woman in the empire—how could she not feel humiliated?
She wasn’t a prisoner.
“Ah.”
Johannes slowly removed his glasses.
The emerald eyes that had been hidden behind the lenses caught her, held her still.
Those eyes that always stripped her bare.
Anel turned away, refusing to meet that piercing gaze.
“I thought you were talking about someone else’s name.”
Something hot surged in Anel’s chest.
So he meant Giselle.
“Do you… resent the name I gave you?”
