Chapter 9
Try to Seduce Me More
A few days ago, Sasha and I spent some time worrying together, convinced that there was no way the Emperor would ever contact me.
We discussed how we could possibly get a message through to him. I told Sasha that if I wanted to avoid marrying that old man, I needed to get in touch with a certain someone. After putting our heads together, we came up with one solution.
Carrier pigeons.
If a mere count’s daughter sent a letter, there was no chance the Emperor would accept it. Sending a messenger wouldn’t work either—he wouldn’t agree to meet us.
Even if another party were held, the Emperor wouldn’t attend. So we settled on using carrier pigeons.
That’s how I ended up tying my letter to a pigeon’s leg and asking Sasha to release it.
“Was the pigeon a gift of proposal?”
“Well, I sent it because I was worried you might have forgotten me. And if you look at it one way… it could be a proposal gift!”
Of course, the moment you said you kill people without hesitation, I quickly buried any intention of proposing.
Still, worried that I might have offended him somehow, I responded with the brightest smile I could manage.
Then—
“It seems you’re quite eager to marry me.”
“What? What do you mean by that…?”
There was no way I wanted to marry him that badly. Well, maybe a tiny bit, just a few days ago—but not now. I shook my head firmly, but his next words made me freeze.
“What do you mean? You sent hundreds of pigeons. You must have been quite desperate.”
“Haha, hundreds… Wait. Hundreds?”
No way. Hundreds? I was thinking maybe one or two.
“Hundreds… of pigeons?”
“That’s right. I wouldn’t lie about something like this, would I?”
I forced an awkward smile and looked at the Emperor. Judging by his expression, it was true.
Ha… wow. Sasha, you’re incredible.
“The pigeons even broke through the windows and flew in, then started dancing among themselves.”
“…Dancing?”
“I observed them for a while. Whether it was a courtship dance or something else, they were moving quite enthusiastically.”
“That’s…”
I should never ask Sasha to do anything again. I had asked her to express me through the pigeons, just in case…
“After watching them, I knew for sure. Their movements were exactly like yours.”
How dare you compare a pigeon’s movements to mine?!
“You’re the only one who ever charges at me as if you’re picking a fight, and the pigeons moved the same way. That’s how I knew you sent them.”
“It wasn’t that I was trying to fight…”
This is unfair. I wasn’t trying to fight him—it just happened that way.
“Well, that is…”
“To be honest, I had completely forgotten about your existence.”
“…Huh.”
“I’m not idle enough to pay attention to someone who spouts nonsense. It was the same when the pigeons arrived.”
A strange sense of disappointment washed over me. I had thought I’d carved my existence into his mind, risking life and limb—but apparently not at all.
“Are you planning to keep a reigning Emperor standing here like this?”
If I leave you standing, where exactly should I make you lie down?! I wanted to shout—but hadn’t he said he killed arrogant people without hesitation? My body instinctively responded with politeness.
“O-oh! I’ll guide you.”
Bow, bow. As if my body remembered proper etiquette, I bent deeply. The Emperor still stood before the imperial carriage, while the servants of the count’s estate hovered helplessly at a distance. I glanced at them, then turned around.
“There’s a garden not far from here. It’s nothing compared to the imperial gardens, but it should be fine for conversation.”
“Even if it isn’t fine, I’ll make it fine. I’ll ensure no one approaches.”
“Ah… yes.”
Every word he spoke was infuriatingly flawless.
I’d heard he detested women and avoided talking to them, but he spoke just fine—just incredibly unpleasantly. Though honestly, it didn’t feel like he was speaking that way because I was a woman.
While I was evaluating him internally, we arrived at the count’s garden.
Since the Countess had fired the gardener, calling his wages a wasteful expense, the garden had been neglected for quite some time.
I knew she was too obsessed with luxury to care about the garden, but this is excessive.
Wild, overgrown hair—no, weeds—grew freely, each one expressing its own strong personality a little too aggressively. There wasn’t a single flower in sight. Naturally so—nothing could grow properly in an environment like this.
The Emperor’s displeased voice followed shortly after.
“This is a garden? It’s more like…”
“Like…?”
“A dog’s playground. Completely natural. No maintenance whatsoever.”
“My apologies. But at least there’s a tea table…”
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he approached the table. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t in great condition either.
Exposed to rain, it had rusted in places, with a thick layer of dust coating its surface.
Before the Emperor could say anything, the knights rushed forward and wiped down the chair. Only then did he sit.
As soon as he did, the knights swiftly surrounded the area, blocking anyone else from approaching. Watching the scene unfold, I heard him speak.
“Sit.”
“Yes.”
They could’ve cleaned my chair too. It was still coated in dust.
With no choice, I pulled out a handkerchief, placed it on the seat, and sat across from him. The Emperor watched me silently, then frowned at the empty table.
“I’ll overlook your failure to serve me tea.”
“Shall I bring it now—”
“We’re not on terms close enough to share tea quietly, are we?”
“Oh. I suppose not.”
What exactly did he expect? Thanks to his very refined phrasing, I was in no mood to bring tea even if he asked. Yet despite his words, his expression briefly turned strange—almost regretful.
He said we weren’t close enough, yet he looked disappointed. I, however, had nothing to regret, so I simply nodded.
A short silence fell.
No—quite a long one.
The Emperor moved his lips as if he had something to say, hesitating for a while before finally speaking.
“Something happened that I never expected.”
“Pardon? Something unexpected?”
“You were right. I do have a son.”
“Oh! Well, that’s fortunate—”
Wait. I froze mid-response, frowning in confusion.
“You didn’t know you had a son?”
“I told you that day—I didn’t have one.”
“You weren’t… pretending not to know?”
“No. I was serious.”
What? He really didn’t know? That day, when he said he had no son, it wasn’t to keep it a secret?
Then I must’ve looked like a completely unhinged woman, insisting a man without a son had one.
I must’ve looked insane.
My cheeks burned.
“You must have thought I was out of my mind.”
“Of course.”
“…Ah.”
“I truly thought you were mad. You kept insisting I had a son when I didn’t.”
Watching him shake his head so confidently only deepened my embarrassment.
Why didn’t he know? In the novel, I was sure he did. Recalling that day only made the heat in my face worse.
The Emperor, seemingly amused, leaned back with his chin resting on his hand, while I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.
Come to think of it… the novel never explicitly said the Emperor knew from the start. It only mentioned that on Redello’s eighth birthday, he acknowledged the child as his and seated him as Crown Prince. It never said he knew before that.
Still, I’d naturally assumed he did.
I was foolish. In the novel, Redello lost his memories and was left at an orphanage, later returning to the palace with proof related to the Emperor’s youngest brother. I assumed the Emperor sent his son away himself… I misunderstood everything.
While I spiraled internally, the Emperor watched me with clear interest.
“So I became curious.”
“A-about what?”
The heat in my face finally subsided.
“How did you know? About the child’s existence?”
Oh. Thank goodness. I was worried he’d ask something worse.
No—maybe this is a problem in its own way.
How did I know? After a moment of thought, I smiled brightly, even as my mouth felt dry from lingering embarrassment.
I’d always imagined that one day, the Emperor would ask me this.
A mere count’s daughter discovering the existence of a secret son no one else knew about. I’d rehearsed my answer countless times.
“I’m a little special!”
“Special?”
“Yes!”
As if something clicked, the Emperor nodded.
“Come to think of it, my younger sister is Shanenxia Velochi.”
“Ah.”
“Did she discover something?”
My expression stiffened.
“Sasha—no, Shanenxia—has nothing to do with it. I simply possess a special ability. I can see fragments of the future.”
It wasn’t something I could rely on for long—seeing the future.
Even though this world followed a novel, once I became involved with the Emperor, everything I knew would lose its meaning. But there was no better explanation.
So I spoke confidently, and the Emperor stared at me for a long time.
Seeing the future.
That cliché plot—I know the future, so marry me or let’s make a deal—I was living it myself now.
I used to read novels like this and think, They believe that? They don’t even doubt someone claiming to know events that haven’t happened yet?
Even allowing for fiction, I would’ve questioned it first.
But perhaps because Shanenxia truly possessed special powers, the Emperor didn’t doubt me. Strangely, even I felt my words gaining credibility.
“Then tell me more.”
“…Pardon?”
“About this future you can see.”
Did he think I owed him something? Why was he so confident? I wasn’t a fortune teller, nor could I actually see the future. Even if I could, his attitude made me not want to tell him.
“Why should I?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to be the mother of my son?”
“Yes.”
“Then shouldn’t you try harder to seduce me?”
“Which is exactly why I can’t say more.”
A surge of frustration rose within me, but there was nothing I could do. All I could manage was to argue back.
“Oh?”
“If I tell you everything, you won’t need me anymore. I have to keep something in my hands too, don’t I?”
My legs trembled beneath my dress. Was it really okay to speak this boldly to the Emperor?
But I had already set up the condition of fragmentary visions of the future—and somehow, my words carried weight.
This wasn’t baseless stubbornness. It was a reasonable argument.
As expected, his reaction changed completely.
His eyes burned red. Eyes that made me fear he might kill me on the spot. What should I do now? Should I say anything—anything—to smooth this over?
