CHAPTER 08
“…A god?”
Asilia frowned as she repeated the word.
Had she gone through all that effort in the dead of night, only to be met with some ridiculous wordplay?
“I didn’t cross swords with you to hear a joke.”
“How could I dare joke with Your Majesty the Empress? Oh, how exhausting…”
Adrian muttered and dropped his sword, plopping onto the ground without any decorum.
There wasn’t an ounce of knightly dignity in his behavior.
“You’re calling someone standing before your very eyes a god. If that’s not a joke, what is it?”
“I expected that reaction… but, well—it’s the truth.”
Adrian shrugged.
If it were a joke, she might have gotten angry. But there was no hint of playfulness on Adrian’s face when he said, “Cretes is a god.”
“You must’ve heard the rumor. That the Emperor of Moria has never once changed in history.”
Asilia nodded.
She’d always thought it absurd, but she did recall hearing about it during her studies in history.
That the Emperor of the Moria Empire had never once been replaced.
At the time, she assumed it was merely a way to elevate the emperor’s status under a theocratic regime.
“Well, that rumor is true. Ever since I was a snot-nosed kid swinging sticks, His Majesty’s appearance hasn’t changed a bit.”
“…Then you’re saying the Emperor can never die?”
Adrian stared silently at her face.
After a long pause, he let out a deep sigh and said,
“Well. There are dead gods… so I can’t say ‘never’ with certainty.”
“Dead gods?”
“You really don’t know anything, do you? Among the dead gods, the one who left the biggest mark on the world was—”
“You do go on, Sir Monique.”
A displeased voice suddenly cut in from behind Asilia. She turned to find Cretes standing there, casually dressed, sweeping his hair back.
“Your Majesty the Emperor!”
Adrian jumped up and bowed deeply, a complete 180 from how he’d acted before.
Cretes reached out and wrapped an arm around Asilia’s waist.
He nuzzled his face into her moonlit white hair and opened his eyes languidly.
“We’re newlyweds, and yet my bride chooses to sweat in the training ground instead of our bedroom. As her husband, I must say, I’m quite distressed.”
“…!”
“Unless, perhaps… you prefer to do it in places like this…”
“What on earth are you saying?!”
Asilia shouted, her face flushing bright red. Cretes chuckled calmly and teased her further with a mischievous, “Well, you seemed so into swordplay.”
“The night breeze is cold—I can’t have my wife standing here much longer. I’ll be taking her now.”
At his words, Adrian flinched and bowed even deeper.
“My apologies!”
As Adrian lowered his head, Cretes turned without hesitation and began walking.
He looked like he had more to say, but—
Asilia kept glancing back, clearly frustrated that she hadn’t heard everything she wanted.
But with Cretes firmly pulling her by the waist, she had no choice but to turn away.
“Hm…”
Watching the couple walk away, Adrian stroked his chin.
“She really doesn’t know anything, does she?”
He muttered and then slowly shook his head.
Truthfully, he wanted to dig deeper into who Asilia really was. There was so much more to ask beyond what he had hinted at.
But…
“…That’d probably get me killed.”
Adrian gave a dry laugh, recalling the look in Cretes’ eyes earlier.
Until now, Cretes’ gaze had always been empty—devoid of any emotion.
But that look just now—
“It clearly meant, ‘Say another word, and I’ll kill you.’”
Adrian shivered and rubbed his arms.
“Right, right. I want to live long. No poking around, no asking questions.”
He muttered to himself as he sheathed his sword and turned away.
And yet, he still felt a lingering attachment.
Whether it was to the person named Asilia—or just the nagging curiosity—he didn’t know.
Cretes was unconsciously humming, tapping his toes.
“You seem to be in high spirits.”
A young man standing impeccably behind him spoke up.
The pale green-haired youth, who had been at Cretes’ side for as long as he could remember, was Whimos—the emperor’s strategist.
“How could I not be, when the one I waited for is finally by my side?”
Cretes rested his chin on his hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
But that wasn’t all.
“The way she tries to kill me is almost charming. I can see exactly what she’s thinking with that little head of hers.”
Cretes chuckled softly.
The poison she’d slipped into his food had been so strong, he could still feel a tingle on his tongue.
“I’m glad Your Majesty is pleased… but I must say, I can’t figure out why Revilla handed her over so easily.”
Cretes stopped tapping his toes.
“Revilla…”
Even the name left a bad taste in his mouth. A nation full of people who smiled outwardly while hiding daggers inside.
With a leader like that, the rest were bound to be just as rotten.
“I doubt they handed her over so easily. They’ve surely made their moves already.”
Even just from her personality, he could tell.
She was so used to lowering herself that she barely allowed herself to think independently anymore.
“She wasn’t always like that, I think.”
You didn’t need to pry into someone’s mind to understand people.
Humans could be as gentle as angels—and more wretched than demons.
“…I wonder how badly they’ve broken her.”
Maybe worse than even Cretes expected. Letting out a long sigh, he stood from his seat.
He didn’t know where or how to start.
But that wasn’t what mattered right now.
“I want to see my wife. I’ll be heading in.”
At his words, Whimos offered a faint smile.
“Understood. I’ll postpone the rest of today’s schedule until tomorrow.”
With a nod to that reply, Cretes made his way to the bedroom.
He knew Asilia wasn’t a safe person.
He knew she wanted to kill him. He wasn’t an idiot.
He also knew she hadn’t opened her heart to him.
But it didn’t matter.
As long as she stayed by his side.
…Or so he’d thought—for not even three hours had passed.
“And now she’s sneaking out again at this hour.”
Cretes sighed, eyes fixed on the now-empty spot beside him. He let out another breath as he turned toward the terrace.
A pale, divine light stretched toward the training grounds.
“Trying to get her hands on a blade, maybe.”
He wondered if he should bring her back before she got something dangerous.
But just as he stood up—
Suddenly, Cretes’ mouth opened in a strangled gasp.
“Urgh…”
Clutching his chest, he gripped the bed sheets tightly.
It felt like something was clawing into his heart and tearing it apart.
His vision flickered; his body felt like it was on fire.
Burying his face into a pillow, he let out a choked breath.
This overwhelming pain that felt like it would melt him from the inside out—it would come back every time he forgot it even existed.
But no one had ever been able to identify the cause—or find a cure.
Except one person.
“…Asilia.”
Only she might be able to stop it.
Staggering to his feet, Cretes made his way to the terrace. Even while drenched in cold sweat, he climbed over the high balcony and walked toward the light he saw in the distance.
The moment Asilia’s proud, upright back came into view—
That persistent, suffocating pain vanished like a lie.
As if it had never existed.
“…Ha.”
Cretes let out a hollow laugh and wiped a hand across his chest. But after a brief pause to collect his breath, he stared coldly at Asilia as she chatted with Adrian.
“I thought I said there should be no other men around her.”
Had she ignored his warning? Or did she just take it lightly?
His golden eyes darkened, losing their light.
But the moment he called her name and wrapped his arm around her waist—the discomfort in his chest melted away completely.
Back in the bedroom, lying side by side on the bed, Asilia whispered,
“Perhaps you should refrain from saying things that would be hard to face later if overheard.”
“Hard to face? Oh? Were you embarrassed by what I said?”
“…”
“We’re married, after all.”
Asilia didn’t reply. She simply turned her back to him.
Even so, Cretes reached out and pulled her close, resting his face against the nape of her neck.
What would she do if he pressed his teeth into that smooth skin, hair like threads of silver draped over it?
If he slipped his tongue between her parted lips and teased her relentlessly?
What kind of expression would she make, panting and tearful beneath him?
His grip around her waist tightened instinctively.
“You made a promise, remember?”
“…”
“That you’d wait.”
Cretes inhaled deeply.
Her scent had changed since the first time she arrived in Moria.
Yes—this was how it should be. Let her seep in slowly, bit by bit.
From the food she put in her mouth, to the scent she carried on her skin, to the act of falling asleep and waking up by his side.
And when the time came, he would consume her completely.
From head to toe, leaving nothing behind.
He would paint her entirely in his color.
