Chapter 18
“They decided to dine together—just the two of them.”
She had just returned after hearing the strangest news from Gardon, the chief attendant.
The Emperor had refused all meals with his consorts.
And instead, he declared that he would only dine with the Empress.
Why on earth?
“…If His Majesty said so, then that’s how it will be.”
Anel’s eyelids twitched in disbelief.
He said that?
That he wanted to spend time only with me?
“Yes. Even when I requested an audience, he refused.”
Flora’s eyes swept over Anel as if studying her.
No matter how she looked at her, Anel wasn’t special.
Pretty enough, fragile enough, the kind of noble lady who knew how to kill herself gracefully.
A mass-produced doll you could find anywhere.
No matter how fine the craftsmanship, a doll is still a doll.
Different from Flora—who was a living, breathing “flower.”
What made this woman, sold into the imperial palace with no will of her own, so special?
“But that’s unreasonable, isn’t it? The Emperor already has imperial consorts. Ignoring their existence violates the rules of the Inner Palace.”
“The rules of the Inner Palace…”
Anel smiled faintly.
“Are you trying to lecture me on palace rules, First Consort?”
Flora flinched.
Truthfully, she couldn’t understand any of this.
Why did Johannes personally place the imperial crown on Anel’s head?
Why did he grant her that strange middle name—‘Catenatus’?
Every act of his had been strange, inexplicable.
Not something that could be taken as a purely positive gesture, either.
But what she hated more was…
that his actions almost seemed like those of a man in love.
Johannes Magnum, of all people!
No. Impossible. Flora let out a small, scoffing laugh.
How absurd.
She looked at Anel again.
At least Anel’s bloodline was nearly as noble as the imperial family’s—
a direct descendant of the Morata Grand Ducal House, nobles among nobles.
For that alone, Flora had been willing to acknowledge her—somewhat.
To treat her as a superior, to maintain a polite distance. That much wasn’t difficult.
“…But as the Empress, you’re the head of the Inner Palace. Shouldn’t you set this right?”
But monopolizing the Emperor? That was crossing the line.
She wasn’t even truly a “Morata” anymore.
“First Consort.”
Anel dropped a sugar cube into her teacup.
“I may be the head of the Inner Palace, but the ruler of the Empire is His Majesty. To go against his will is another matter entirely.”
It was a gentle refusal.
From the start, Anel knew that even if she appealed to Johannes with her title, he wouldn’t listen.
Even if she said, ‘As head of the Inner Palace, I ask that you spend time with your consorts,’ he would only ignore her.
She gazed quietly at the dissolving sugar.
Once Johannes had made a decision, nothing she said could change it.
But Flora clearly wasn’t satisfied with that answer.
“…Since we’ll have to see each other often, whether we like it or not, may I speak frankly, Your Majesty?”
Whether we like it or not?
Anel let out a soft, incredulous laugh.
Did the marquess’s daughter never learn proper etiquette?
“No.”
“…Pardon?”
“Honesty is a virtue. But I don’t believe honesty and rudeness are the same thing, Consort.”
Even if the Morata House had fallen, its long history couldn’t be denied.
Anel knew better than anyone why Johannes had chosen to accuse them of embezzlement rather than treason.
It was his way of protecting her—of giving her a “pretext” to live.
“Don’t disguise insolence as honesty.”
“!”
“If you’re going to be rude, at least be sincere about it.”
In high society, everything begins and ends with propriety.
Even if it’s only a hollow formality.
Anel, as the Empress from an ancient, legitimate line, was untouchable.
No noble in Stein would dare challenge her lineage.
That must be why Johannes kept her as Empress—
someone trained to rule, yet easy to control.
A doll crafted for him.
“If what you say is true, then like it or not, I am still your superior.”
He didn’t do it for me.
Anel smiled bitterly.
He just didn’t want to dirty his own hands.
“So tell me, First Consort—
have you forgotten the respect owed to your superior?”
In matters of the Inner Palace, that respect was everything.
Flora’s face hardened.
“…Of course not. You are my superior, Your Majesty.”
Her voice was quiet, subdued.
Anel suddenly hated Johannes all the more.
She had never wanted to be his blade—
and yet she had become exactly that.
Forced to fight a petty war in a game he had designed,
even though she wanted no part in it.
“I overstepped, Your Majesty.”
Flora slowly rose from her seat.
“Before I commit any further disrespect, may I take my leave?”
She had to retreat.
It was her own miscalculation.
Still, she was a Morata.
She had underestimated a woman raised to be Empress.
Even if Morata’s glory had faded, its legacy could not be erased.
“Very well.”
Flora bowed deeply—almost exaggeratedly so—and withdrew.
But Anel could see the truth beneath that bowed head:
a blade of vengeance pointed in the wrong direction.
Exactly as Johannes intended.
But that’s that.
Anel picked up her pen.
“If he says he’ll dine only with me ‘unless he has other engagements’…”
Utterly absurd. He hates me, yet says things like that?
Apparently, he just wants an excuse to avoid the other consorts.
“Send word to His Majesty.”
Then I suppose I’ll have to make sure he has other engagements.
“Her Majesty the Empress will not be joining for breakfast today…”
Gardon looked thoroughly apologetic.
It had already been a week.
The excuses changed every day—
headaches, Inner Palace duties, foreign guests…
Why he had to feel sorry when the Empress refused, he didn’t know.
“But she asked that the First Consort keep Your Majesty company instead.”
That, too, had been the same for a week.
Gardon glanced nervously at Johannes.
How would His Majesty respond today?
For a week straight, the Emperor had attended breakfast in silence.
The untouched soup bowl across from him seemed to be his only companion.
He never skipped a single meal.
Even when told the Empress couldn’t come, he’d quietly finish an espresso, smoke a cigar, and leave—
without a single word.
“The First Consort is waiting, Your Majesty. Shall I—?”
Flora had been just as persistent.
Every morning for a week, she waited outside the dining hall,
desperate for an invitation to enter.
And for a week, Johannes never gave it.
“Your Majesty, perhaps—”
“Let her in.”
Gardon’s eyes widened. Finally—a chance!
He almost ran to open the door.
“Your Highness, His Majesty—”
“Thank you.”
Flora had clearly been listening from the hallway; she squeezed Gardon’s hand before stepping inside.
She had endured humiliation for a week—
the whispers and pitying looks of the servants—
all for one reason:
“Your Majesty.”
—to see this man.
“First Consort.”
It was the first time they’d faced each other since the coronation.
The Emperor had never once visited the consorts’ palace,
frequenting only the Imperial and Main Palaces.
She had even waited along side corridors hoping to see him,
but when they finally met—
“Have you been well?”
Johannes didn’t even glance at her.
“…Thanks to your concern, yes, Your Majesty.”
She knew he always spoke formally to noble ladies.
He had done so since the first day they met.
Back then, his impeccable manners were what drew her to him.
But now, even as his wife, nothing had changed.
It stung.
“If you need anything, tell Gardon. Breakfast?”
Flora shook her head.
She had skipped breakfast every morning, hoping for a chance like this.
Finally, it paid off.
“Gardon will bring your meal shortly.”
So she would dine with him—at last.
Johannes set down his cup and raised a hand.
Gardon immediately handed him a cigar.
Just as the servant was about to light it, Johannes lifted his other hand to stop him.
“My apologies, Consort. Do you mind if I smoke?”
He asked as if he’d forgotten his manners.
Flora instinctively nodded.
Still the ever-courteous man.
Always respectful, always considerate.
Johannes gave a faint smile of thanks, pulling out a silver lighter engraved with intricate designs.
“Your Majesty, about your meal—”
“I’ve never been one to enjoy eating.”
“But for your health—”
“Consort.”
Johannes lit his cigar and said quietly:
“There’s no need to trouble yourself.”
