Chapter 49
Before long, when the man’s figure had completely disappeared, the viscountess let out a small sigh and whispered in my ear.
“I’ll take care of things here. Why don’t you go rest for a bit?”
“I couldn’t possibly trouble you, Viscountess…”
“You haven’t looked well for a while now.”
Do I really look that tired?
Without thinking, I touched my cheek. It was true my face had been a bit stiff lately—there had been so much going on. Even during the congratulatory speech, pretending to be all serious had been exhausting.
The truth was, I did want a break. So I expressed my gratitude to the viscountess and stepped away.
Those who had been about to follow me stopped in their tracks when the viscountess called out in a warm yet firm tone, and I was able to slip away with ease.
Normally, I would have put on my coat and gone out to the terrace, but it seemed crowded there too, so I headed instead toward the banquet hall corridor.
Luckily, the hallway was empty, so I could move freely.
“Ugh, this uniform is so uncomfortable.”
I’d thought pants would be easier to move in, but they’d made them skin-tight “to accentuate the silhouette,” so every step felt constricting.
I was just deciding it’d be best to go to the lounge and change clothes when an imposing voice brushed my ear.
“Oh? Going to change? But it suits you so well.”
It wasn’t a familiar voice—but it was one I could never forget.
With a surely not feeling, I slowly turned my head.
At the end of the corridor, a man was walking toward me.
Bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window, his scarlet hair glowed with a wicked gleam.
His eyes—brimming with arrogance and pride—were the same shade of blue as Helene’s.
I fought the urge to frown and spoke.
“Your Majesty the Emperor.”
“No need to greet me twice. What you did earlier was memorable enough.”
The Emperor, Theorne, smiled casually and gave a small wave.
“That outfit looks great on you. I’d like you to keep it on until the New Year’s ball ends. Ah, but that’s not an order.”
“…Thank you for the compliment. If that is Your Majesty’s wish, I will do so.”
“Don’t take it so cynically. It’s meant as a kindness.”
He stopped right in front of me, his stance much more relaxed than when I’d seen him in the banquet hall.
“Headed to the lounge? I’ll escort you.”
“That won’t be necessary. There must be important guests waiting for you…”
“Another ‘me’ is taking care of that, so no need to worry.”
“…Another you?”
“A clone. Just like the pendant you’re wearing, I also have a valuable treasure.”
He held up the cloak draped around his shoulders. Up close, I could feel a strange energy radiating from it.
“When I use this, I can make an exact duplicate of myself. It’s a hassle since I have to split my thoughts between us, but it’s useful enough.”
“…Is it alright for you to be telling me this?”
“Hm? Are you planning to tell someone?”
“No.”
“Then it’s fine. Those with loose lips tend to have short lives. And I’d prefer you lived a long one.”
I had meant to ask why he would tell me something like that, but what I got instead sounded more like a threat.
No, wait—that probably was a threat. More like ‘If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.’
Considering his track record, that was the more likely interpretation.
“So the ‘Your Majesty’ currently in the banquet hall is…”
“The clone. I was a bit worn out from the march, you see. So I sent the double in my place and rested in the carriage for a bit.”
If his subordinates heard that, their loyalty might take a hit.
The Margrave’s letter came to mind—it had said he was stubborn, ambitious, and true to his desires. That assessment was spot on.
“I actually wanted to talk to you, even if it was through the clone. But the duke and duchess kept getting in the way, so I had no choice but to come in person.”
He really could have just not come.
I swallowed down the complaint before it could slip out.
“By the way, that congratulatory speech was impressive. Where’d you learn to speak like that? The Academy?”
“No, it was thanks to my family’s help.”
“Don’t joke. The princess would never have helped you.”
By ‘princess’ he must mean Helene.
I quietly studied his face, wondering what sort of scheme might be hiding behind that handsome exterior.
When I stayed silent at his jab, he smirked and held out his hand.
“Alright, if you’re not going to answer…”
“This is…?”
“I told you—I’ll escort you to the lounge.”
“….”
With no real excuse left to refuse, I reluctantly placed my hand in his, forcing down my displeasure.
The two of us began walking slowly down the empty, silent corridor.
Through the window, I could see the snow had stopped, revealing a clear, high night sky.
“The truth is, I always believed you’d pull it off.”
“I’m honored to have lived up to Your Majesty’s expectations.”
“You think that’s just empty talk. I suppose that’s natural, since you don’t know me.”
I’d realized long ago that the Emperor was using me as a chess piece.
It was thanks to him that I hadn’t been thrown out of the ducal household, but on the other hand, if I stayed still, I risked becoming his plaything.
Trusting his words at face value wasn’t an option.
But what he said next was harder to ignore.
“You’re too talented to waste away here.”
“…?”
“Why not become my ally?”
What on earth was he talking about? I gave him a wary look.
“…Do you happen to have a fondness for rubber?”
“Hm? Rubber? You mean the tree?”
“No.”
The sudden proposal made me think of “rubber men” for some reason, so I let my words trail off.
“I’m not joking. I lack capable people at my side. I need someone intelligent and decisive, like you. If you wish, I could even change that unpleasant title of ‘dowager’ to something more fitting.”
“….”
I couldn’t make sense of his intentions.
Even if he had an unusual personality, how could he make such an offer to someone he’d only just met? And not as a subordinate, but as a colleague? It was baffling.
“That’s far beyond my abilities.”
“No, my judgment is accurate. You’re a fascinating person.”
The Margrave’s advice echoed in my mind—always wanting more, authoritative, and…
…prefers calm, refined beauties.
…No way.
But then I remembered something a friend from my past life once said: “If you’re wondering ‘Would he like me?’ the answer’s no. But if you think, ‘There’s no way he would…’—that’s when you’re right.”
…Still, it couldn’t be.
Surely an Emperor wouldn’t take a romantic interest in someone like me.
I forced my mouth to move as if chewing sand.
“I have no intention of remarrying.”
“Huh? Why? I’m the Emperor.”
Oh, for—
This was bad.
This guy was like someone had mashed together Mikhail and a stereotypical tyrant from a romance novel.
* * *
The Emperor, Theorne, had two things to look forward to on his visit to the Duchy of Leighton.
The first was the joy of seeing his sister, Helene.
How would she react upon seeing him as Emperor?
When she greeted him as her sovereign, would she still maintain that statuesque strength?
Just imagining it was delightful.
A man who had relived his humiliating past night after night could now feel the moment of his revenge drawing near.
The second thing he looked forward to was meeting Wilhelmina.
“She’s a captivating person.”
The words of his most trusted companion came back to him.
That man was not generous in his praise of others, so hearing him speak so warmly of Wilhelmina had stuck with Theorne.
But Theorne couldn’t understand it.
From what he’d gathered, Wilhelmina was simply the daughter of a fallen noble family with a rather unfortunate past—nothing in the way of special talent.
In her portrait, she was… moderately pretty.
Her Academy record was abysmal—she’d barely managed to graduate, and her attendance had been poor.
The merchant company she’d briefly worked for described her as “low presence, but competent enough at her job.” That was it.
He couldn’t imagine what was so exceptional about her.
At the time, he’d wondered if his companion was simply going through some kind of belated adolescence, overly romanticizing his “first love” like many men do.
So when he’d made the unreasonable demand that she give the congratulatory address, he’d been curious to see how she would handle it.
If his friend had been right, Wilhelmina would succeed brilliantly; if not, she’d deliver the ending Theorne was most looking forward to—
Watching the House of Leighton be humiliated.
But Wilhelmina had succeeded—and spectacularly so.
“To His Imperial Majesty, Theorne Lu Feon—salute!”
It had been a flawless victory speech, one that reminded him of the day he had seized the Imperial Palace.
He almost regretted watching it through the eyes of his clone—it had been that magnificent.
