Chapter 12…
The divine beast always protects its master.
Even without being commanded to use magic, it did so.
So, if one truly was the master of a divine beast, even if they jumped from the top of that tower, they would not be harmed at all…
That was a crude but simple principle.
In fact, all those who had pretended to be divine beast masters had been filtered out there. No matter how high-ranking a magician they were, none could properly use flight magic around the ninth-floor tower, where the winds blew wildly and uncontrollably.
The fakes all fell to their deaths.
If Rone were to jump, she would not die. From its ability to hide in shadows to the way it protected her, Bel was undoubtedly her divine beast.
The problem was that one had to enter the top of the tower alone. Any external interference could be dangerous.
The duke continued in his smooth voice.
“Besides, I hear she is even from the Eastern Continent. As Your Majesty knows, the East is…”
This much, Navel had expected. The talk of the tower’s trial was a little premature, but at least the prejudice against Easterners was anticipated.
Westerners did not trust Easterners.
“—Isn’t that the land of liars who neither know of divine beasts nor believe in the gods themselves?”
Yes, because of that reason. Navel smiled.
“You know I spent my childhood in the East.”
“I heard it was only for a short while.”
Short though it was, it had been the happiest time of his life.
Navel briefly recalled the days of childhood he had spent with Rone. Then he waved his hand.
“I see there are those who think like you. I will deal with them soon enough.”
He had not brought her here merely as a divine beast’s master. That was only an extra.
Of course, if the divine beast protected the Iber royal family, all the better. But more than anything, he respected Rone’s will.
Would his sister wish to be someone who harmed people?
The Rone he knew had never even held a blade, let alone wielded one in bloodshed.
There were ways to keep his sister in the Imperial Palace other than as a divine beast’s master.
Of course, the choice was hers.
“Go, then.”
Think about it deeply. He gestured once more.
That night.
Rone was on the third floor of the palace named after her. Despite her sudden arrival, the chamber prepared for her had been made ready in an instant—
As though it had always been waiting for its mistress.
“His Majesty ordered us to prepare to receive the mistress of this palace.”
That seemed to be the right answer. Rone thought of Navel, who had flushed with embarrassment at the mention of “Rone Palace,” and smiled faintly.
“—Then please, rest well.”
Bowing deeply, Head Lady-in-Waiting Dia withdrew from the door.
The chamber was unlit, and once the door closed, Rone was left alone in the darkness.
But then, knock, knock. Someone rapped softly behind Dia. She turned, startled, and quickly bowed her head.
“Your Maj—!”
“Quiet.”
Noise was not good. Navel knew Rone was sensitive even to footsteps outside her door. That was why he had dismissed the knights guarding her.
“Sister.”
“Navel.”
He looked a little weary. Even though he had only taken care of urgent matters before coming, time had slipped away. Still, he smiled.
“May I come in?”
And once more, he thought of their childhood—
The days when it was not strange for the two of them to share the same bed.
Rone’s eyes widened.
Navel wore only a light shirt.
In his office, he had been dressed in ornate, gold-embroidered regalia, but now, his simple shirt declared that this was personal time.
Perhaps he had just bathed, for a fresher scent lingered around him than usual.
Thump.
He sat gently on the edge of her bed, not far from where she perched.
The moon was bright, just like the night he had left ten years ago.
“Do you remember, when we were little?” Navel suddenly asked. Rone turned to him.
“Hm?”
“You used to ask me to sleep beside you.”
At that, Rone’s cheeks flushed. As a child, he had always refused.
Blushing, she would say she was fine, then lay her bedding on the floor and sleep there.
“Weren’t you uncomfortable?”
Thinking back, a prince sleeping on the bare wooden floor must have been terribly uncomfortable.
“But I liked it.”
Navel looked at her. Their eyes met.
Rone studied him anew.
Those blue eyes that sparkled at her were the same as when he was young.
But there was one difference: now, he looked down at her, instead of up.
He had grown so suddenly.
His shoulders, once fragile and childlike, had broadened and hardened. His hands had grown much larger than hers.
And most of all, the back of his hand had changed.
“This…”
In the moonlight, with his sleeve pushed up, the scars were clearly visible. Countless wounds marked his hand, as if he had blocked blades bare-armed. Scars upon scars, new flesh torn again and again.
Rone reached out and held his hand. It was cold.
“You’ve suffered so much.”
She had known. When he had left, Navel had been alone. His ability was to read minds, but what use was that on the battlefield?
Rumors had spread to the East: the Miltan royal family had fallen, the Iber house had reclaimed the throne.
And he, the golden-haired boy, had led retainers through war after war, guiding them to survival.
He had spent nearly ten years on the battlefield. From such a young age until now.
“You, Sister, suffered far more.”
Navel shook his head.
“I lived as if I were still with you.”
Rone smiled faintly. For her, it had been little more than being locked in a house. Life had always been the same.
She had learned to give up before she had ever learned to desire.
Because wanting something only led to disappointment.
So she had formed the habit of always imagining the worst possible outcome.
And for those ten years, the worst she could imagine was being dragged to the temple and executed. But since that never happened, she supposed she had lived well enough. She smiled.
Navel knew better than anyone that she had always lived by giving things up.
“This palace is named Rone Palace,” she said, as if to change the subject. Her quiet voice filled the room as she gazed at Navel, bathed in moonlight.
Yes, another thing was different: he no longer hid his golden hair. As a child, he had dyed it black to conceal his identity.
‘I like you.’
Perhaps because the night resembled the one when he had left, she remembered the child’s voice.
He had promised he would return and save her.
And he had kept that promise.
“…”
She looked into his deep, ocean-like eyes.
Do you still feel the same?
She wanted to ask. But for both of them, too much had changed. He was now emperor, no longer free to speak such words.
“I hope you like this palace.”
Navel smiled. Rone glanced outside.
“There are so many people.”
This place was far bigger than the Lida estate. Being the imperial palace of the West, everything was built on a grand scale. Yet even knowing that, the footsteps of soldiers and the constant presence of people startled her.
At the Lida estate, people had always been her enemies.
“I only brought those I trust completely. You need not worry.”
He raised his hand.
“You know my ability.”
“To read thoughts…” Rone nodded.
‘Because I wanted to give you the secret that could shake me.’
That was what he had said as a boy. Navel gave a low laugh.
“Yes, like this. I can read them.”
He held up his bare hand.
“They are all deeply loyal to the Iber royal house. We must not rely blindly, but…”
Even a brush of the hand was enough to read thoughts.
“That’s fortunate,” Rone said honestly. For even Count Lida had lived in constant fear of betrayal. How much worse must it be for an emperor?
To have many loyal people was a blessing.
“…”
Navel closed his eyes briefly.
Because otherwise, he might not endure.
He wanted to hold her hand.
The one whose thoughts he wanted most to read was her.
But he was too afraid.
It was better she did not possess the “Hand that Reads Truth.”
If she saw the darkness of his heart, she would never sit beside him like this.
In ten years apart, he had never once forgotten her.
He had run forward relentlessly, too afraid that his enemies might dare target her.
It would be a lie to say he had not felt desire.
He had longed to touch her delicate fingers, even once more.
To finally taste the lips he had not dared as a child.
To bury himself in her, weeping, telling her that all these ten years he had lived only for her.
“Navel?”
Her cautious voice pulled him out of his desire. He laughed softly.
“Yes.”
Rone looked at his gentle smile.
“I don’t know the laws of the Western Empire, but…” She glanced out the window.
“A guest cannot stay long in the palace, right?”
“…”
For a moment, he wondered. Did she already know the darkness of his thoughts? Was that why she asked such a thing now?
“You may stay forever.”
The words of his childhood heart burst out, unchanged.
Rone’s eyes widened.
“But… would that be all right? The palace is—”
Not a place just anyone could enter. And she was not even of the West. The thought had lingered in her mind all day as maids attended her.
She was Emperor Navel Iber’s guest, but only a guest. Guests could not remain forever.
“—Sister. Stay here.”
Her words were cut off by his low voice. He smiled faintly, almost desperately.
“Stay. Otherwise… I cannot endure.”
Rone froze. His whisper was almost a plea.
“The closer I am, the worse it gets.”
When she was this close, almost within his grasp—
Navel whispered,
“I cannot take my eyes off you.”
Since the day he had met her, until now.
‘I like you.’
But his eyes now carried far deeper meaning than the child’s confession of long ago.
“…Thank you, for liking me,” Rone murmured. The words slipped out before she realized it, perhaps because she remembered that day. Then she faltered.
“But—”
“Sister.”
Even now, it was difficult.
Most of all, he was emperor. His marriage could never be made of love alone.
It was impossible…
Her eyes widened slightly.
Navel’s hand reached out. But he could not bring himself to touch her cheek—only her hair, trembling at his fingertips.
“Sister, even now… is it still impossible for us?”
Rone was struck silent.
Her gaze locked with his glittering eyes.
