Chapter SS 06 …
Side Story: Words That Were Never Easy
“W-What do you mean by that, Your Majesty?”
“Did you not hear me?”
Seated upon the throne, Yurik deliberately leaned his elbow against the armrest, resting his chin in his hand as he looked down at the minor duke of Shuhebbs—Wilson, Rinea’s father—standing below the dais.
“Your daughter will not be returning. She has no obligation to do so. Furthermore, you are forbidden from sending her letters or speaking to her with the intent of calling her back to the ducal residence. From this moment on, anyone—whoever they may be—who engages in such behavior will be regarded as insulting the Emperor.”
“How could attempting to take back my own daughter possibly be considered an insult to Your Majesty?”
Wilson protested in disbelief. Yurik studied him quietly for a moment, then let out a deep sigh.
“That attitude. That very attitude.”
Before Wilson could ask what he meant, Yurik continued.
“Despite the fact that I have formally delegated final decision-making authority over the imperial palace landscaping project to Rinea Shuhebbs—thereby granting her both cause and necessity to remain within the palace—you blatantly disregarded my appointment and sent her letters bordering on a curse, ordering her to return at once. If that is not contempt for me, then what is?”
Wilson’s face finally drained of all color.
“T-That is an excessive interpretation, Your Majesty.”
“And now you dare to belittle my judgment as well? I can see just how much the hollow title of ‘ducal house’ has inflated your lungs.”
“I would never—”
“You must have assumed that the aging duke would soon relinquish his position. But tell me—do you truly think I would wish that seat to be inherited by someone who lacks even the most basic manners?”
Those words wiped out Wilson’s lifelong ambition in an instant. Yurik let out a short scoff, then returned to an impassive expression and met Wilson’s wide, stunned eyes head-on.
“Am I someone you believe you may climb upon and shake at will?”
“Y-Your Majesty!”
Only then did Wilson fully grasp the situation and drop to his knees. Yurik did not even glance at him.
“I swear—never, never did I harbor such intentions! I was merely afraid that my ignorant and rude daughter might commit some offense against Your Majesty—!”
“She has never once been rude to me. In fact, the rudeness you committed—both here and through those letters—is something I have never experienced in my entire life.”
Until he was dismissed, Wilson could not lift his head before the Emperor, doing nothing but beg.
“Your Majesty, this is all the fault of my reckless conduct. I beg you to be magnanimous—”
“Well, as someone admittedly dull, I cannot even determine how much leniency should be granted, or toward what.”
Wilson looked as though he might die on the spot.
From there, matters proceeded swiftly. In exchange for Yurik’s non-interference in the selection of the next duke, it was made absolutely clear that the ducal house was never again to lay a hand on Rinea—that she was now a completely independent individual.
“Then, Your Majesty, I shall take my leave—”
“I permit only your departure. I will not forgive you for approaching her under the pretense of being her father.”
Wilson bit down hard on his lip.
“Do not attempt to meet her. Remember well that without my permission, you may not even speak with her. Do not send letters either. However—only once—I will allow you to send her a single letter, strictly outlining the factual circumstances with clarity and courtesy. You have until the end of this month.”
“…….”
“Leave.”
Wilson offered a deep bow and withdrew from the imperial audience chamber.
“I can’t believe it…”
Walking beside Yurik, Rinea murmured faintly, still dazed.
“That I’ve really been completely freed from my family…”
“If they interfere again, they’ll have to endure my attendance at the ducal succession council. They won’t want that.”
Rinea thought for a moment, then sighed.
“So in the end, they weighed the benefits and decided I wasn’t worth it.”
“…….”
“No—it’s not that I’m shocked or hurt. I knew what kind of people they were. It’s just… empty. If it could be resolved this easily, then why did they suffocate my life for so long…?”
Her voice grew weaker and quieter.
As Yurik pondered how he might pull Rinea back from her sinking thoughts—
“Ah!”
She staggered with a short cry. Yurik instantly grabbed her arm. Rinea ended up nearly collapsing into his chest, barely regaining her balance.
“I-I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.”
“Are you all right? What happened?”
“Yes, I’m fine. My shoe feels strange.”
The attending servants hurried over and examined her shoes. One heel had snapped cleanly.
“The other heel is also badly worn. It would be best to summon a shoemaker and have both heels replaced.”
“So be it. Call a shoemaker at once.”
Yurik then issued a quiet, separate instruction to one servant—soft enough that only they could hear. The servant bowed and hurried away.
“Rinea, bear with it for a moment.”
“Pardon—Ah!”
Yurik lifted her up with ease. Startled, Rinea reflexively tried to struggle—then froze stiff as she remembered who was holding her.
“Y-Your Majesty. I can walk. If a servant supports me—”
“This is faster. Just endure it briefly.”
Cradled in Yurik’s arms, Rinea couldn’t gather her thoughts.
Something warm brushed against the crown of her head. She looked up—and saw the elegant line of Yurik’s jaw, hastily lowering her gaze again. The warmth was his breath.
Then she heard it.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of Yurik’s heartbeat beneath her ear. His broad, solid chest carried a clean, gentle scent, and the arms holding her didn’t tremble at all.
The path into the nearby palace felt both long and short at once.
Inside a spacious guest room guided by the servants, Yurik carefully set Rinea down on a sofa.
She opened her eyes fully and looked up at him, about to thank him—then stopped.
Yurik’s ears were red.
Strangely, realizing that Yurik was embarrassed too only made Rinea even more flustered.
“…….”
They both avoided each other’s gaze, even breathing cautiously. Had there been no knock at the door, they might have remained that way until nightfall.
“Your Majesty, the shoemaker has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
Yurik replied in what sounded like a slightly irritated voice and dropped heavily onto the sofa across from her.
The shoemaker, from a family that had supplied the imperial household for generations, was a rather talkative man. Upon learning that the shoes were for Rinea rather than Yurik, he smiled broadly.
“To have a heel break during a stroll—if these were shoes I made, that would never have happened. Never. But if I may speak freely?”
“Speak.”
Yurik answered indifferently, as though accustomed to the man’s chatter.
“Replacing the heel is simple, but the shoes themselves are quite worn. I recommend having new ones made.”
“They’re worn, but still usable.”
Rinea protested quickly. The shoemaker shook his head.
“No, my lady. I don’t mean they merely look shabby. The leather will soon tear. You can’t wear shoes like that.”
Rinea looked troubled. Yurik asked her, genuinely puzzled:
“How many spare pairs did you bring from the ducal residence?”
“One more pair. If I retrieve those—”
“You were a duke’s daughter, weren’t you? And you only have two pairs of shoes? One of which must now be discarded? That’s absurd.”
The shoemaker acted as though it were unthinkable. And in truth, it was—Rinea had left far more shoes behind at the ducal residence.
It was simply awkward now to request that anything be sent from there.
Since her sudden entry into the palace, Rinea had been managing by rotating the few garments she had hurriedly brought with her.
Yurik looked at her seriously.
“To me, it seems you don’t have enough clothes to change into either.”
“Pardon?”
“So today, we’ll have several pairs of shoes made. Tomorrow, we’ll have clothing tailored. I’ll instruct the head maid to prepare the necessary items for a lady.”
Rinea’s face flushed even redder than before as she shook her head.
“No, that won’t be necessary—”
“It wouldn’t do for rumors to spread that the imperial family severed a duke’s daughter from her household and treated her poorly.”
It was a reasonable point. Still, Rinea looked dissatisfied, so Yurik softened his gaze.
“This is something I want to do for you personally. You never accept anything without an excuse—so I’m giving myself one.”
“…But it would be a waste of state funds.”
“It will come solely from the portion of the imperial budget that I am free to use at my discretion.”
After persistent persuasion, Rinea finally relented with a sigh—agreeing to roughly ten pairs of shoes and about five dresses.
The shoemaker, who had been watching their back-and-forth with growing boredom, perked up enthusiastically and measured Rinea’s feet with practiced speed, then had his assistant bring over a catalog showcasing various leathers, patterns, and jewel designs.
“Goat leather. Not kid leather. No need for extravagant jewel decorations.”
“Then I’ll decide the jewel accents myself.”
“Avoid large red gemstones.”
Rinea flinched at Yurik’s words, then nodded gently.
“…His Majesty is right. Avoid large red gemstones.”
“As you command.”
“And the designs…”
They divided the shoes into categories—ball, evening events, strolling—and finalized all ten designs. By the time they finished, over two hours had passed.
“Would you prefer the completed shoes delivered all at once, or one pair at a time as they’re finished?”
“Have the walking shoes made first and sent immediately. Deliver the rest together once they’re complete.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The shoemaker handed the catalogs and estimates to his assistant, offered a respectful bow, and left the room.
“Well, this is something you don’t see every day. His Majesty personally ordering a lady’s shoes.”
As they exited the palace, the assistant muttered thoughtlessly. The shoemaker clicked his tongue.
“I’ll repeat this at the workshop—but spare no expense on the materials. And add one more pair for a ball. Put special care into that one.”
“What? Why?”
The shoemaker paused before stepping into the black carriage and turned to his assistant, exasperated.
“How many years have you been doing this?”
“This is my third year—why?”
“And you’re still that dense? What do you think it means when His Majesty—who’s never kept a woman at his side—has shoes made with his own money for a young lady?”
The assistant finally realized.
“Ah—then that lady earlier… is she going to become the Empress?”
“His Majesty is already completely smitten. No doubt about it.”
The shoemaker said it with the same decisiveness and steadiness he used when cutting leather.
