Chapter 16
Was he really asking because he didn’t know?
Anel lifted her head, thinking it must be a joke—
but Johannes’ face held only pure curiosity.
That drained the strength out of her.
“…Forget it.”
The name had already been given.
Complaining now wouldn’t change a thing.
Johannes stared at her for a moment, then spoke.
“I don’t like that sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Starting things on your own, and giving up on your own.”
What was that supposed to mean?
When had she ever started anything?
All of this disaster had begun with him.
“I never started anything, Your Majesty.”
“Everything began with you, Anel.”
Nonsense.
Anel hadn’t even spoken to him first, ever.
In the end, she gave up on arguing back.
What was the point? It would only waste time and emotion.
She put down her knife, intending to stand.
“Again.”
But Johannes’ voice caught her by the ankle.
“Running away on your own again, I see.”
“Do I even have anywhere to run? This palace, this empire—everything belongs to Your Majesty.”
Anel felt a faint relief that the dining table was so long.
If he had been sitting any closer—
“You know that, and yet you’re still trying to run right now.”
—she would have had to face those eyes at close range.
“There’s nothing else I can do but run.”
That, at least, was the truth.
What could she possibly do now?
How was her position any different from the food on the plate before her—
hunted, cut to pieces, cooked however the predator pleased,
and laid out on display, powerless even as it awaited being devoured?
Anel gave a short, bitter laugh.
Johannes’ brow twitched, displeased by that sound.
“Shall I tell you what you can do, Empress?”
He raised his cup of coffee.
“Call my name.”
Anel thought she’d misheard.
“…What did you say?”
But Johannes simply tilted his cup calmly.
“If you don’t like your name, I’ll lend you mine. Call my name.”
“Why would I—!”
Johannes tapped the documents he’d been reading with his forefinger.
“Samui Giers sent me this.”
“!”
He slowly tipped the cup toward the papers.
“A petition, begging for aid—says the Giers territory is in a miserable state.”
The black coffee crept toward the white paper.
If he tilted his hand just a little more, it was obvious what would happen.
Anel pressed her lips together.
“I could ignore it.”
“Your Majesty.”
That was unacceptable.
She knew exactly where the Giers lands were—
the place her father had been exiled to.
Samui, in truth, had been as good as exiled himself.
What Johannes was about to trample wasn’t just a petition—
it was Samui’s pride, the pride he had already broken before his half-sister,
just to save even a wasteland.
“Or I could grant it.”
Johannes smiled gently.
“So, Empress…”
But in Anel’s eyes, that smile was no smile at all.
“Call my name.”
He was a hunter eyeing his prey.
A predator watching its meal.
Anel bit down hard on her lip.
“Your Majesty Drneger.”
The cup straightened instantly; the coffee settled back in place.
“My name, too.”
Monster.
Anel almost called him that—
but instead, she simply obeyed.
“…Johannes.”
If that’s what he wanted so badly, then fine.
She looked at him quietly.
But Johannes wasn’t looking at her.
He stared into the dark liquid, lost in thought.
“Are you satisfied now?” she asked, impatient.
“Yes. That feels fair enough.”
Fair? What part of this was fair?
Anel glared at him as he set down his cup and picked up Samui’s petition.
Satisfaction spread across his face.
“If you’re done eating, you may run away again—to your palace.”
At that, Anel shot up from her seat and left without another glance.
Bang.
The door slammed hard behind her.
Johannes finally let out the laughter he’d been holding in.
“My Empress truly has a gift for running away,” he murmured.
“…Though she’ll come back here soon enough.”
Just then, the door creaked open again.
“Your Majesty, since the Empress has risen first, I came to clear the table.”
It was Gardin, the chief attendant.
Johannes didn’t even glance at him.
“Leave it.”
“Pardon?”
“Must I repeat myself?”
Gardin hesitated, then dismissed the servants.
Only when the others had left did he pour more coffee for the Emperor.
“It pleases me to see you eat breakfast, Your Majesty.
It would please me even more if you ate actual food instead of just coffee.”
Johannes gave no reply.
He only drank again.
Gardin sighed inwardly.
Well, this was already progress—the man rarely ate at all, barely one meal a day.
“By the way, Your Majesty,” Gardin continued carefully,
“the First Consort could not join you for breakfast today,
but she asked to dine with you tomorrow—”
“Tell her to know her place.”
The tone was polite, but the coldness behind it froze Gardin’s tongue.
“Then… the Second Consort?”
“She already knows her place, so it doesn’t matter.”
Hopeless.
Gardin stepped back awkwardly.
He had heard from the Grand Duke Magnum and the council nobles:
Make sure the Emperor spends time with the consorts.
Keep the Empress as far away as possible.
But with this attitude, there was no opening.
“Then how shall we arrange breakfast tomorrow, Your Majesty?”
Instead of answering, Johannes set down his cup.
It meant refill it.
Gardin quickly obeyed.
Only after a long silence, as Johannes drank again, did he finally answer.
“With the Empress.”
Gardin tried to discern the meaning behind that.
Did His Majesty… favor her?
Then why had the Empress looked so furious earlier, storming out?
“And for lunch or dinner—?”
“Unless something else arises, with the Empress as well.”
This was getting worse.
There would be no way to follow the council’s plan.
“But then, Your Majesty, the consorts will feel very lonely.”
It was the only excuse he could muster,
and he wanted to bury his face in the coffee cup out of shame.
“They chose that path themselves.”
Johannes snapped his fingers.
Gardin immediately placed a cigar between them and lit it.
That was the Emperor’s morning routine—
espresso, then a cigar.
“My Empress also made her choice.”
“Choices should be respected,” he murmured—
and with a faint smile, pressed the burning cigar into the paper,
right over Samui’s signature.
Rain fell.
Night had already come, and she had turned off every light.
Anel hated seeing brightness tonight.
She watched the rain stream down the window
and thought of him—
the man who had crushed her.
How could anyone be so cruel?
What had she ever done to deserve it?
She had never wronged him—not once.
As of last year, they had barely even met.
She leaned her cheek against the glass. It was cold.
The sound of the rain was like gunfire,
hundreds of bullets pounding into her chest.
Through the storm, she looked toward the Imperial Palace opposite hers.
All of the Potentia Palace was dark—
except for one brightly lit room.
Her breath caught as if she’d forgotten how to breathe.
As she stood there, gasping softly against the window frame,
a shadow appeared below.
It was Samui.
Startled, Anel threw open the window.
She didn’t care that the rain soaked her gown through.
Samui stood in the downpour without even an umbrella,
looking straight up at her.
The man whose gentle presence had always calmed her heart.
Her only comfort.
Now stood before her—battered, drenched—
yet still there, only for her.
She wanted to call out to him.
To run to him.
To ask, How can you forgive me?
How could you come all this way, just to protect me?
But neither of them could move.
They only stood apart,
silently gazing at each other—
letting all the words they could never say
spill out quietly, inside their hearts.
