Chapter 8
The Emperor’s banquet hall was enormous—so large that even ten grown men holding hands couldn’t encircle the massive dining table.
And on that table sat a feast so vast and extravagant that no number of guests could possibly finish it. Dozens of servants waited quietly nearby, ready to serve at a moment’s notice.
The sheer abundance was overwhelming—enough to make even the most privileged nobles dizzy—but the two people seated at the table looked perfectly calm.
At the head sat Emperor Kali, her black hair elegantly pinned up, revealing her pale, sharp jawline. Her beauty was such that many men found their hearts fluttering just to look at her—but no one dared approach.
To her subjects, Kali was a ruler of mercy; to those who defied her, she was terrifyingly ruthless. Everyone respected and feared her in equal measure.
Yet now, the fearsome Emperor smiled warmly as she turned to the man sitting diagonally across from her—her younger brother, Dylan.
“Dylan, the townhouse in the capital must be uncomfortable, isn’t it? A house left empty for so long is always cold, even in spring. Don’t be so formal with me—we’re siblings. Come and stay here in the palace.”
Dylan immediately shook his head.
“That wouldn’t be proper, Your Majesty. The Imperial Palace belongs to you. The late Emperor’s children may visit to rest for a while, but we shouldn’t stay for long.”
It was the correct, dutiful answer.
Kali sighed, clicking her tongue as if disappointed.
“Tch, yes, yes—I know that. But so what? Your younger sister Serene has been staying here since March. She’s having the time of her life.”
“Your Majesty, I understand you’re fond of her, but please don’t indulge her too much. What will people think if they see that?”
Kali leaned back in her chair and shrugged.
“They’ll think the Imperial siblings are very close, of course. Honestly, you’re so stiff, Dylan. People might start to think we’re sworn enemies.”
Despite her teasing tone, Kali’s gaze was full of fondness.
She admired her brother’s diligence—though she sometimes wished he were a little more playful.
Dylan was the perfect brother.
Handsome, impeccably mannered, educated in every field, skilled in combat, intelligent but not arrogant, kind but not naive—a flawless balance.
If not for that incident, it might have been Dylan, not Kali, who sat on the throne.
Kali narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then smiled.
In history, royal siblings had often killed each other for power, but she had never needed to.
Dylan was too disciplined to ever betray his sister, and their youngest, Serene, was too innocent to even want the throne.
Kali reached for a dish—a plate of sweetly marinated beef—and pushed it toward him.
“Here. You used to love this, didn’t you? I asked the royal chef to make it just for you.”
“That was when I was a child, Your Majesty. I don’t care for sweet food anymore.”
“Oh really? My, my, you’ve grown so much. My little brother has turned into a man—bringing a lovely lady home and everything!”
The hand holding Dylan’s wine glass froze mid-motion.
His pale blue eyes darkened slightly as he lifted them to meet his sister’s teasing smile.
“So, you already know.”
“Was it supposed to be a secret?”
“No. Not really. We’ll be announcing the marriage soon anyway.”
This time, Kali’s playful expression turned to genuine surprise.
“Marriage?!”
She covered her mouth with a hand, red lips curling into a small smile through her fingers.
Dylan ignored the reaction and continued steadily.
“I would like to hold the ceremony before the year ends. I came to request Your Majesty’s approval.”
“Hmm…”
Kali began tapping her nails lightly against the table—tap, tap.
Everyone in the banquet hall froze.
It was well-known that when the Emperor began to think, silence was required.
Only one man didn’t seem to care.
“There’s nothing to think about, Your Majesty. Please, just grant your approval.”
Several attendants gasped at Dylan’s blunt tone, but Kali didn’t scold him.
She only chuckled softly, as though soothing a stubborn child.
“Oh, don’t be impatient. I’m just trying to understand something.”
“And what would that be?”
“If any of my siblings were to cause a stir by marrying, I would’ve bet on Serene. Not you.”
Of course, Kali had already looked into the woman staying in Dylan’s townhouse.
There wasn’t much to uncover—everyone in the capital already knew her name.
Agnès Everchen.
For a woman from a minor noble family, she was almost too perfect: beautiful, gentle, intelligent, and graceful. Perhaps a bit naive—but that was often seen as a virtue in noble ladies. Easy to handle, easy to control.
Kali herself had met her once, years ago, at a debutante ball. She’d thought Agnès a fine young woman at the time.
When she later heard Agnès had married Count Overhan, Kali had thought, What a waste.
If she’d belonged to a better family, she could’ve married someone far greater.
Then came the scandal—divorced, disgraced, cast aside like damaged goods, rumored to be sold off to an aging noble.
It was the kind of tragic gossip high society loved to repeat.
How unfortunate, Kali had thought then—and nothing more.
Until now, when that same “tragic beauty” was suddenly linked to her beloved brother.
She propped her chin on one hand, frowning openly.
“I could introduce you to someone better, you know.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“You really don’t care what I think, do you? So heartless to your big sister.”
Dylan gave a faint, humorless laugh.
“Your Majesty, have you forgotten what you told me long ago?”
Kali blinked, then burst into laughter as she finally remembered.
“Ah, that. Right.”
She drummed her fingers against the table again, then sighed.
“So she’s really that special to you? I didn’t think your type was the demure kind.”
“Demure, you say…”
Dylan chuckled under his breath, amused.
“You’ll see at the wedding. She’s not only demure.”
“Oh? So you’re not even going to let me meet her beforehand?”
“No. Since you clearly disapprove, I’d rather not risk Your Majesty… intimidating her.”
Kali pouted but didn’t deny it.
Yes—she probably would have summoned Agnès just to test her, to see if the woman was bold enough to stand before an emperor.
And if she wasn’t, Kali would’ve laughed and declared, “She’s not worthy of you.”
Now that Dylan had caught her plan, she could only sigh in mock defeat.
“Very well. Eat up, then. When we’re done, stay and play chess with me tonight.”
For a moment, Dylan’s lips parted, as if to say something—but he changed his mind.
It had already been three days since he’d last fed.
But rather than admit his condition, he simply bowed his head.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Dylan didn’t return to the townhouse the next day—or the day after that.
He seemed to have left all the wedding preparations to Gaveline, the butler.
These days, he was the person Agnès saw most often.
And his attitude hadn’t softened one bit.
He was still impeccably polite, every word and gesture textbook-perfect—but cold as marble.
Agnès found it oddly endearing. His loyalty to Dylan was almost adorable in its intensity.
“Has there been any word from His Grace today?” she asked curiously.
Gaveline raised his chin, his voice full of pride.
“His Grace is the Emperor’s most cherished and respected sibling. It’s only natural that His Majesty would keep him at the palace for some time.”
It was the only topic that ever made Gaveline sound genuinely human—when he spoke of Dylan.
Agnès always smiled at his devotion, and he always looked flustered in return.
Underneath all that stiffness, he was actually rather innocent.
And then, five days after Dylan’s departure, Gaveline appeared again—this time accompanied by a seamstress.
