Chapter 36
The emperor’s bedchamber was dark. Inside the canopied bed, heavy curtains shut out what little light there was.
Thanks to the softly burning incense and the open windows, the atmosphere itself was calm enough. No palace attendants would dare approach a private audience between just the two of them. The emperor’s palace was entirely under Clyde’s control.
Inside the firmly shut chamber, he did not speak a single word to his father.
He merely stared out the window, lost in thought.
Only when it was time to leave after completing the visit did he slightly lift the curtains. It was a routine check—to make sure that everything remained exactly as he had arranged.
A thoroughly preserved corpse, dried stiff by embalming, lay beneath a white shroud.
Only after personally confirming that his father’s body remained intact did he step back. It was perfectly cleaned, the surface darkened to a deep brown—unchanged from when he had inspected it the previous week.
He usually withdrew in silence, but today, for some reason, he felt compelled to say something to the body. Perhaps it was because he had gained a reliable ally named Edith, and the feeling of triumph had gone to his head.
“One day, when my power reaches far enough, I will personally escort Your Majesty to your final rest.”
He believed that once the marksman tournament secured his position, he would finally be able to overcome the current half-measure state of affairs. He could announce the emperor’s passing and ascend the throne without suffering external pressure. He waited for that day, clenching his resolve.
His father had died too early.
Back then, Clyde had been powerless before the arrogant nobles, unable to speak up at all. After the assassination, his father had not even lasted three months.
More than grief, the harsh reality before his eyes had been unbearable. Standing at the crossroads between collapse and concealment, Clyde had been forced to make a ruthless decision.
“Rest in peace. I will return.”
He lowered the curtains and turned his back on the mummified corpse.
The more important task within the emperor’s palace was silencing those who knew the truth. He personally met with each informed attendant and checked on them. In practice, that was the real reason he visited every week.
Among them, he never failed to speak with the one who resembled the emperor.
That attendant existed solely to be sent out to public events when absolutely necessary. Barefaced, he differed slightly from his father, but with proper makeup, even from a few steps away, the resemblance became nearly indistinguishable.
Thus, in the mausoleum-like silence of the emperor’s palace, Clyde’s weekly schedule came to an end.
[☆ Additional Notice ☆]
[Hello, dear readers. This is the author, back again. I’ve ambitiously reorganized the story during the hiatus. I hope you enjoy the resumed serialization.]
Oh—thank goodness. She’d been worried ever since the original had gone private.
In the previous notice, the author had mentioned changing and revising many settings. Edith couldn’t help but wonder just how much had changed.
That evening, after crawling into bed earlier than usual, Edith read the Korean text that appeared clearly upon the bed canopy.
Unable to sleep, her bright eyes followed the notice from the original novel.
[Leaving Adrian behind, his steps were heavy as he turned away.]
[As he rounded the corner with the attendant Edith, hurried footsteps echoed from afar. It was him. Adrian seemed to fly into his arms, his feet barely touching the ground.]
Huh? This scene felt familiar.
[“Could you spare a moment? There’s something I need to say.”]
[“Adrian, I hate to part as well. What should we do?”]
[“Your Highness…”]
This was from just a few days ago—when Adrian had visited the palace.
And it was written from Clyde’s point of view.
How could this be? The newly uploaded story included events that had already happened.
There was a clear difference between the hologram Edith had seen before and this one. The original she’d read four years ago, measured against Edith’s timeline, depicted future events. It had helped her anticipate and prepare.
But this episode described past events—things she had already experienced.
If the next chapter continued like this, it would be useless from Edith’s perspective.
Wait a minute… looking again, something felt off.
Adrian and Clyde had exchanged similar words. She couldn’t recall every syllable exactly.
But this strange sense of familiarity mixed with difference—what was it?
[Clyde wanted to kiss Adrian’s tear-brimmed eyes. If no one had been watching, he surely would have.]
[Instead, Adrian wrapped his raised arms around his neck. The omega’s scent, reminiscent of irises, lifted his spirits. Amid the stirring sensations, satisfaction finally welled up within him.]
Different. Definitely different.
Now she could pinpoint the discomfort.
The two were pretending to be lovers. There was no way Clyde would have felt such excitement toward Adrian.
The narration in the original wasn’t reality.
Nor could she assume unseen emotions had changed. Just yesterday, when Edith had briefly mentioned Adrian, Clyde had complained irritably.
‘What on earth is going on?’
Parallel worlds? Something like that?
In another world, Clyde and Adrian were sweet like in the original novel, but not in this one?
‘With my sharp intuition… it feels like someone who was standing nearby wrote this.’
If this world was truly the same as the original’s, then that text was deeply wrong. The author couldn’t possibly misunderstand their own characters’ psychology—yet they had.
It felt more like a spy had witnessed Clyde’s performative actions that day and written about them. Not the creator of the world, but a spectator.
And not even one who saw everything—only fragments.
Had the author failed to see the moment Adrian whispered something to Edith?
Impossible.
Everything was impossible—including the hologram floating before her eyes.
[“See you tomorrow, Adrian. As early as possible.”]
[Facing Adrian, whose eyes grew wet at the thought of their brief separation, Clyde’s heart collapsed. He steeled his resolve again. Any obstacles in the process of making him crown princess would not be left al—]
The Korean text gradually faded.
There was still so much she needed to uncover, yet the hints were already gone.
Edith reached out instinctively into empty space. She knew it was pointless, but the regret drove her to the futile gesture.
How would the next story unfold?
She was desperate to know, yet all she could do was wait for the original hologram to appear again—whenever and however it might.
Her thoughts raced, but sleep refused to come. She tossed and turned restlessly.
There was no one beside her. Tonight, she had succeeded in returning home after a long time.
Earlier, Edith had firmly insisted to Clyde that since she only needed to practice for the marksman tournament, there was no reason for her to stay in the annex. Unable to argue back, he had reluctantly let her go.
At this rate, she might actually be able to come home early regularly. Aside from public duties, she had agreed to focus solely on shooting practice.
Pulling the cold, worn blanket up to her chin, she forced herself to sleep. All she had to do was make it to the shooting range by dawn. She had firmly instructed several maids to wake her early and even checked that the clock was accurate.
Maybe it was the unfamiliar bed. Or the original novel she’d just read.
Whatever the reason, Edith—lost in countless worries and imaginings—fell asleep far later than she ever did in the crown prince’s bed.
“Sir Ketzmoris?”
A young man’s voice rang clearly through the bedroom of an unmarried woman.
“Sir, do you know what time it is?”
He had been calling her by an unfamiliar title for quite some time. Eventually, irritation seeped into his tone.
The hand tapping her shoulder felt familiar. She had woken up to it yesterday, and the day before.
“Mmm…”
“You need to get up. You’ll be late.”
There was an odd tension in the man’s grip on her hand—like he was suppressing boiling irritation by squeezing hard.
The coarse blanket scratching her neck made her realize this wasn’t yesterday’s bed.
She’d slept at home for the first time in a while.
Then why was he here?
“Clyde?”
Dressed neatly in his training uniform, he looked like he had just finished dawn practice. One eyebrow twitched upward as he frowned.
“No matter how long I waited, you never showed.”
“Huh—what time is it?”
“The sun’s been up for a while. Even if we leave now, we’ll barely make the meeting with the officials.”
Behind him, anxious maids peeked in. Whether they had overslept or failed to wake her properly didn’t matter—what mattered was that she was massively late.
“Oh no…”
She sprang up as if powered by springs.
While she hurried through her morning routine, Clyde leaned against the doorway and waited. His crossed arms tapped lightly against his forearm, urging her on without words. The moment she emerged dressed, he tilted his head—a silent signal to depart.
“I waited all morning at the shooting range.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The tournament is still a ways off, but since you’ve only just started handling a gun, you’re hardly in a position to take it easy.”
“….”
“I was worried from the start when you said you’d commute from the Ketzmoris estate. It’s no short distance.”
“….”
The distance from Pillar Hill to the imperial palace wasn’t enormous, but Edith stayed silent like someone with honey in her mouth. What could a sinner who stood up the crown prince possibly say?
“If you thought you couldn’t wake up, you should’ve just left it to me.”
There it was—she’d known this would come up.
“I won’t be late tomorrow. I promise.”
“No. Don’t push yourself. Sleep comfortably in my room. We’ll wake up and move together.”
Clyde’s horse took the lead as they raced toward the palace. There was no time to argue along the way.
And just like that, after managing to return home for only one day, Edith fell back into the pit of living at her workplace.
The results of Edith’s sample test finally arrived.
As she waited for the physician, her thoughts tangled. She couldn’t figure out the cause of her changing disposition, no matter how much she pondered it.
The only explanation she could come up with was that a version of herself from another world had become Edith.
Many events were unfolding differently from the original, centered around her. If that was the common thread, could it be that she was suspected of being an omega—and subjected to testing—because another entity now resided within her body?
But it was pure speculation.
Omega traits were physical characteristics. A change of soul shouldn’t alter the body itself.
Or so she believed.
