Chapter 108
“This is the truth about the former imperial family… and about me.”
The long recounting of the past ended with those few words.
“Wh-what… that’s…”
Riana, listening to Ianheart’s words, could not bring herself to finish the sentence.
When she had first heard about Petches—the illegitimate son of the late Emperor and Ianheart’s half-brother—she had thought it was filthy enough.
But the story she had just heard now went far beyond that.
Ianheart gave a faint smile as he looked at Riana’s expression. That smile was bitter.
“…Not exactly a pleasant tale to hear, was it?”
If she were to speak in raw words, it was downright disgusting.
The late Emperor, the deposed Empress—every one of them had been insane.
It was… revolting.
She felt like she might vomit.
But even more than that, she felt tears prick her eyes for Ianheart himself.
From the outside, the life of the Empire’s noble heir looked like nothing but a smooth road to glory.
But in reality, it was nothing like that.
Born between madmen, he had never known a father’s love nor a mother’s love.
If it had only been that—if he had simply never received love—it might have hurt less.
But the deposed Empress had a child with her lover, and she doted on that son with all her heart.
While she cursed and hated Ianheart, while she raised her hand to hurt him, she loved another son wholeheartedly before his very eyes.
How much pain must Ianheart have endured, watching his mother wound him yet smile warmly at another?
“…It must have hurt.”
Without realizing it, Riana whispered the words aloud.
Your past… just hearing it is painful enough for me.
“Well… I think I just accepted it. It wasn’t something I couldn’t understand.”
Ianheart’s answer was calm.
That very calmness made it even sadder.
Riana’s eyes widened as she stared at the ground.
Her clenched fists dug painfully into her palms, but the ache in her heart was sharper still.
She tried to hold it back, but—
Plop.
A heavy tear fell onto her skirt.
“…Riana?”
Ianheart’s voice sounded startled, but once the dam had broken, the tears would not stop.
Riana lowered her head deeply.
Drop, drop—
The tears flowed harder.
“Riana, why are you crying? Hm? Don’t cry.”
“…Hhh.”
“I didn’t tell you this story to make you cry… Riana, look at me.”
But Riana didn’t lift her head. She only let the tears fall.
She wasn’t someone who cried easily—in fact, she could count on one hand the times she had. She was usually excellent at controlling her emotions.
Yet now, she couldn’t stop them.
“Hhh…”
Something hot kept rising inside her chest.
Watching in growing unease, Ianheart dropped to one knee before her.
Then, carefully, he reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand.
He didn’t care that the emperor’s robes were smeared with dust and dirt from the floor.
Just touching her, his hand grew wet with her tears.
Thankfully, Riana did not pull away from his touch.
But neither did she lift her head.
She simply leaned her cheek against his hand and wept like someone carrying unbearable sorrow.
“…I’m sorry for telling you such an unpleasant story.”
Ianheart whispered an apology.
Those words twisted something inside Riana.
“It’s… frustrating. I feel like crap, hhh… like garbage.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Sniffling, Riana spat her bitter words, and Ianheart gently wiped her tears, answering softly again.
Hearing him apologize once more, Riana finally raised her head a little, glaring at him through tear-blurred eyes.
“Why do you keep apologizing? You… you have nothing to be sorry for, Your Majesty.”
But her gaze was tender, not fierce—eyes wet with tears, filled with pity for him.
Her broken words, interrupted by sobs, carried more sorrow than anger.
Ianheart gave a low chuckle and brushed her tears with careful fingers.
“Then should I cry too?”
“Wh-… Is that a joke right now?”
“I’m not joking.”
Riana glared at him, then suddenly leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Her silver hair spilled over his shoulders.
Her pale arms, unburned even under the sun, tightened around him as she pulled his head close.
It was a warm embrace. A gentle comfort.
“……”
Ianheart said nothing.
The warmth of her body pressed against him was overwhelming.
And the way she trembled with sorrow in his stead—it was selfish of him, but it made him strangely glad.
Srrrk—
Slowly, he lifted his hand and stroked her back.
His earlier answer had been the truth.
That the deposed Empress had never accepted him as her son—he understood why.
He was a child forced upon her, the seed of someone she hated.
Did it wound him…?
From the moment he had memory, the deposed Empress had cursed and despised him.
Her hatred was so extreme it was suffocating—but he had always thought it was understandable.
It wasn’t his fault, but to her, his very existence was a wrong.
He knew that. And because he also pitied her, he endured the stress, endured the poisoned tea.
Yet when the late Emperor left the order on his deathbed to imprison her in a tower until her death, Ianheart had felt a strange relief.
It was easier—to keep her close but spare her only the barest attention.
A dying Emperor’s last command could not be overturned, even by the next ruler.
Of course, Ianheart could have falsified the decree if he had wished.
But he hadn’t wanted to go that far.
The truth was, even though he understood his mother, he still resented her.
The hands that had tried to kill him countless times since he could remember—he hated them.
He hated how she projected his half-brother onto him, how she cursed him like he was a monster, how she screamed for him to die.
He was tired of bearing it all.
After all, he hadn’t chosen to be born.
It was exhausting to endure such hatred and blame simply because of his birth.
But instinct told him there was nothing to be gained from admitting this aloud.
He didn’t want to be seen as the unfilial son who had abandoned his mother out of resentment.
He didn’t want Riana to know how deeply she had wounded him.
He didn’t want to show her his weakness.
And most of all, he didn’t want to make her—tender and strong, yet fragile—cry even more.
“It hurts me to see you cry.”
Ianheart deliberately softened his voice, adding a playful lilt.
It was sincere, but he didn’t want it to sound heavy.
He didn’t want to burden her before confessing his heart.
“…But Your Majesty isn’t crying.”
“Then if I cried… would your tears stop?”
Instead of answering, Riana shook her head against his shoulder.
If Ianheart cried…
“…It would be embarrassing to cry alone. I’d cry with you.”
Her voice, still damp with tears, brushed against his ear.
It was so lovely.
Even as she wept in his place, she promised to cry with him if he ever shed tears.
Ianheart thought she was unbearably lovable.
‘…Now I have to say it.’
The reason he had told her this heavy story today was so that he could confess his true feelings—and hear her judgment.
Because unless she knew the truth of what kind of blood he carried, he couldn’t avoid deceiving her.
Ianheart waited until Riana’s sobs had begun to quiet, then slowly opened his mouth.
“Riana.”
“…Yes.”
“Very few people know this story. And most of them are no longer alive.”
The late Emperor had hidden his shameful, twisted love.
In truth, he had erased the deposed Empress from the world.
What little was known about her was simply that she had been frail, reserved, and ultimately imprisoned in a tower by Ianheart.
She had rarely appeared in public; by now, few even remembered what kind of person she was.
“You too—everything you know of the deposed Empress is only what I’ve told you.”
It was true.
Even as a princess of Roan, a vassal state of the Empire, Riana had known nothing of the Empress.
Riana pulled back slightly, lifting her face to meet Ianheart’s eyes.
His red gaze looked unusually tense.
“Riana.”
“…Yes.”
Her answer was hesitant.
Why was he telling her this? Why reveal such truths known to so few?
“…Are you sure it’s alright to tell me all this?”
The question slipped from her lips.
What he had just revealed was nothing less than the Empire’s darkest shame.
Why share such a burden with her?
It was too heavy, too dangerous—secrets that, if leaked, could shake the Empire itself.
But more than that, it was Ianheart’s past, carved full of wounds.
He could have invented a simpler excuse for avoiding her these past four days.
Yet he had chosen to tell her this.
Seeing her expression, Ianheart swallowed hard.
Last night, he had made up his mind.
He would hide nothing from Riana.
Only then, when she knew what kind of twisted blood ran in his veins, could she answer him honestly.
He didn’t want to deceive her.
Meeting her eyes, Ianheart finally let the words spill out like a confession.
“I like you.”
In that moment, Riana felt as if her breath stopped.
His voice—low, soft, and full of tenderness despite a faint tremor—
“…I love you, Riana.”
Her violet eyes widened and shivered.
The words she had never expected swept through her mind, then shook her heart violently.
Her head felt dazed, her chest pounded wildly.
But only for a moment.
“…I like you. But the blood flowing in my veins isn’t normal, is it?”
Just then—what was this man before her trying to say?
