3. Death of the Moon (2)
The demons made a pact with a human sorcerer in order to remain on the surface world.
The contract bound demonic blood to humans in exchange for allowing the human body to survive.
Since then, demonic blood was always born in pairs with a human. The one called the fated companion was alternately born into one of the five noble families of the empire. These five families, who carried the sorcerer’s blood, became the core of the empire along with the imperial family.
“I’ll go first.”
Shiiing!
Riyan sheathed her sword at her waist.
Riyan, who usually enjoyed lazing around on the floor of the imperial office, often unbuckled her sword because it got in the way.
“If we give Her Majesty advance notice, who knows where she might run off to.”
Riyan was serious—and cautious.
It was certain that Cartagena Pielion was born as Reskal’s destined partner. When Cartagena was born, one of the five noble families, the Pielions, publicly announced it and revealed the mark on her body as proof.
Until four years ago, when Reskal and Cartagena officially married, no one doubted that claim.
Demonic blood and its subordinate were always born as a pair. There had been past emperors who were born with barely any demonic traits, and in those cases, the partner often wasn’t born either—but after Reskal was born, Cartagena followed.
The mark was undeniable proof.
It was said that those born as a pair could sense each other’s presence even without seeing each other. The method of controlling the demonic blood, known as “Contact,” also had to produce immediate effects.
But the Empress had avoided contact for the entire four years since their marriage.
No one knew why. Only Riyan and Serven suspected that the Empress might be a fraud.
However, the year Cartagena was born, the High Priest himself confirmed the mark. Reskal also saw it during the engagement process. As long as the mark existed, there was no way to doubt Cartagena.
That was the problem.
The Empress used the irreplaceability of her existence as a weapon to torment Reskal. That was why the two shadow knights clenched their jaws at the very mention of Empress Cartagena.
Especially Riyan, who firmly believed the false partner must be dethroned and the real one found before it was too late.
“I can’t miss this chance.”
Reskal’s thirtieth birthday was approaching.
If he couldn’t control his demonic blood before then, he might lose his humanity completely and turn into a demon.
There were no records in imperial history of such an event, so no one knew what would happen exactly—but the rapidly worsening symptoms suggested his demonic nature was growing stronger.
“I feel the same. But… would you mind handing me your sword?”
Serven reached out to Riyan.
“Why?”
“I keep picturing you putting that sword to Her Majesty’s throat. No matter what, she is the Empress.”
Riyan shook her head without even a hint of a smile.
“I don’t see why not. As His Majesty’s personal knight, my role is to protect him. If Her Majesty continues to use contact as a threat, there’s no reason I shouldn’t use my sword.”
“Haa… You’re serious. Your Majesty.”
Serven, who knew his twin sister’s personality better than anyone, turned to Reskal for help.
But Riyan had already fastened her sword and darted out of the office.
“Ah! Riyan!”
Serven reached out, but it was too late. Riyan, ever cunning, had exited through the window, not the door.
“I’d better hurry. Before she causes a scene.”
Serven quickly opened the office door.
In that short time, the scales on Reskal’s wrist had grown to the size of a fingernail. Holding his darkening, hardening wrist with one hand, he began to move.
He could delay no longer.
Unwilling though he was, he might have to negotiate with the Empress for contact today.
Thankfully, the Empress’s quarters weren’t far.
And the Empress, said to be suffering from memory loss, was quietly holed up in her bedroom.
“Her Majesty the Empress! His Majesty Reskal Rovaniaren Parken, Emperor of the Elliadan Empire, whose blood flows from the highest point of the continent, requests an audience!”
It hadn’t been long since the maids were dismissed.
Just as she’d finally gotten a moment to herself to gather her thoughts, Rasilia was suddenly told she had to receive the Emperor.
Prophets were typically calm.
Rasilia had never once considered herself to be the flustered type.
Her life in the temple had always been quiet, and only particularly difficult prophecies ever stirred her. Even that had become routine past the age of twenty-five.
But since awakening as the Empress of the empire, she had felt nothing but disoriented.
“W-Wait a moment!”
Only when she heard the Emperor was coming did Rasilia realize she was still in her nightclothes.
Dismissing all the maids had been a mistake.
She frantically opened drawers in search of something to wear. But all she found were perfumes and jewelry—no clothes.
“I am opening the door now!”
Thud!
The Emperor clearly didn’t understand the concept of waiting.
Without a care for her response, the bedroom doors swung open.
“Wa—…huh.”
Too late.
Further panic would be meaningless.
Rasilia sighed briefly to collect herself, then turned to face the Emperor.
Real or not, she was technically a patient. Wearing nightclothes shouldn’t be a major issue.
“I—”
But the moment she turned and met those dazzling golden eyes—
She nearly blurted out “Are you insane?” but just barely stopped herself.
Those eyes were unforgettable. The man from her dream.
‘Dear gods…’
Her body froze.
Those golden eyes felt like blades piercing her chest.
“I heard you were unwell… Looks like it’s true. You haven’t even changed clothes.”
How much time had passed?
Just as she shut her eyes, unable to bear his blazing gaze any longer, the Emperor finally spoke.
Rasilia slowly exhaled and opened her eyes. The Emperor was staring at her intently.
“It’s not that I’m sick… I’ve lost my memory.”
Rasilia forced her barely-moving lips to speak.
Every word was cautious.
The Emperor’s golden eyes were so dazzling, she feared she might blurt out anything if she stared too long.
She still hadn’t decided: should she keep pretending to have amnesia, or reveal her identity?
But she’d been told she was the Empress. Even if she didn’t know all the details, declaring herself someone else wouldn’t be easily accepted.
It would trigger complicated issues—politically and socially.
“I don’t even know who I am, so I wasn’t prepared to face anyone.”
It was both an excuse for her attire and a polite request for him to leave.
Rasilia still needed time to gather her thoughts.
“Maybe that’s why. You seem… different. Like someone else.”
He clearly heard her, yet the Emperor said something unrelated.
He tilted his head slightly, then stepped closer.
Rasilia immediately stepped back.
“With all due respect, I don’t even recognize Your Majesty’s face.”
In other words, whether or not they were husband and wife, he was just a stranger to her now.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“…?”
One thing was clear.
The Emperor didn’t care for the Empress at all.
Whether or not the woman in her dream was the Empress, it was obvious from his behavior that he did not treat the Empress with any affection. Above all, he didn’t listen to a single word she said.
With inhuman speed, he closed the distance she had created and grabbed her shoulders.
“Please don’t do this, Your Majesty.”
Rasilia tried to push him away. No matter how much strength she used, he didn’t budge.
“You can’t avoid me today.”
Those gleaming golden eyes were too close. She couldn’t look away, but she also couldn’t close her eyes—not knowing what he might do.
“I’m not avoiding you… I’m just confused from memory loss. If you’d give me some time…”
“There is no time.”
“…What?”
Rasilia frowned slightly, unable to understand what he meant.
“…You’re different.”
Murmuring this, the Emperor suddenly buried his face in her neck.
Sniff.
She could hear him inhale deeply against her skin.
“Ah!”
Panicked, Rasilia stomped on his foot. It was the only thing she could do—shaking him off was useless.
“Tch, wow.”
“Unbelievable. He’s really doing that now?”
The knights standing like shadows behind the Emperor muttered.
Even as she stomped down with all her might, the Emperor didn’t flinch.
‘He’s insane. What is he doing?’
The hands gripping her shoulders were hot. Having grown up secluded in the temple, Rasilia had never experienced another’s body heat.
She didn’t know if it was always this hot, but human warmth felt very different from that of a heater.
The Emperor, still inhaling, now pressed his lips to her skin.
Unable to endure it any longer, Rasilia reflexively cried out:
“Stop it!”
Everyone was shocked.
The knights twitched. Rasilia herself stiffened in embarrassment.
“…If you say so.”
Even more shocking was the Emperor’s response.
He moved reluctantly, as if it physically pained him, but finally released her.
Rasilia quickly stepped back, covering her neck where his lips had touched.
“I’m extremely confused and overwhelmed. Please leave.”
The Emperor stared at her again and slowly replied.
“I don’t want to.”
“Your Majesty.”
She glared at him in disbelief. He raised both hands in surrender.
“Fine.”
“Thank you for understanding. And please excuse me for not seeing you off properly.”
“…”
He must have truly meant it when he said he didn’t want to leave, because he walked away at a snail’s pace.
Before exiting, the Emperor turned to look at her once more.
“When will your memory return?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
“I hope it never does.”
“…”
What the hell does that mean?
“I’ll go for now. See you again this evening.”
Thud.
The door closed firmly—refusing all possibility of rejection.
“What the hell was that, Your Majesty?”
After leaving the Empress’s quarters, Riyan couldn’t hold back anymore.
“You held Her Majesty. Is that even allowed?”
Serven nodded eagerly beside her, clearly dying to ask the same question.
As far as they knew, there had never been any such intimate contact between Reskal and the Empress. The Empress always avoided him, and even though Reskal should’ve been desperate, he showed no enthusiasm for contact.
To be precise, Reskal disliked contact with humans—likely because of his demonic blood. Even with his fated partner, it was no different.
His hypersensitive senses made contact unbearable.
“Today… hmm, yes. It was the scent.”
Reskal’s answer surprised the knights even more.
“The scent? Her Majesty’s scent? But you always complain that she smells weird when you’re near her!”
“Today was different.”
“Different how? Did she hire an amazing perfumer in secret?”
Surprisingly, Reskal seriously considered the question.
“It wasn’t perfume. It was just… her scent. And it was exactly the same—but today, I liked it.”
“Then why…?”
“I don’t know. The same scent felt different today. I wanted to keep smelling it.”
“…What?”
Riyan gaped. Serven ran his hand wildly through his hair in confusion.
“That’s a bit… sudden, don’t you think?”
Just then—
“Your Majesty! Your hand! Look!”
Riyan suddenly rushed over and grabbed Reskal’s hand.
“The scales!”
“Ah…”
She was right.
Before seeing the Empress, scales had been sprouting on the inside of his wrist—but now, it was completely normal.
Usually, the body returned to normal after the Blue Moon waned, but never this quickly and dramatically.
Eyes wide, Riyan muttered in disbelief:
“What the… Then does that mean… Her Majesty… was real all along?”
