Chapter 28
Leto’s gaze settled, growing calm.
“I don’t understand.”
Of course. He wouldn’t.
Up to now, I had done everything I could to help him—whether it was for my own survival or to protect my people.
But what Meryl could give Leto was on a completely different level. I couldn’t give him that. I couldn’t even dare to try.
“I’m incompetent.”
“I’m hearing all kinds of nonsense today. If you’re incompetent, then every noble lady in the Empire should throw herself into the river.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what is?”
This was troublesome. It was hard to explain.
Leto stared at me insistently, as if urging me to answer.
“There needs to be a stronger woman in the position of Empress. Someone who can truly be of help to Your Majesty.”
“I’ve never seen a woman stronger than you.”
I shook my head. Perhaps out of frustration, words I didn’t need to say slipped out.
“No. I’m just an ordinary human who can’t even use magic.”
Leto’s eyes widened.
“Magic?”
“…Yes.”
“So Sean was right after all.”
Sean? What did he suddenly mean? What had Sean even said?
No. Enough. This wasn’t a conversation to have with a drunk man. I needed to get Leto back to his room first.
“Yes. Let’s go with that. It’s too late now, so please go in and rest.”
I gave him a light push. He didn’t budge at all—like pushing against a wall.
“Livia.”
“Yes.”
“Are you doing this because you don’t like me?”
“That’s not—”
I realized too late. The words had slipped out on their own.
A strange smile spread across Leto’s lips as he slowly stepped closer. I froze, letting out a small “ah.”
He whispered by my ear.
“If that’s not it… does that mean you like me?”
Too close. Every hair on my body felt like it was standing on end. He tilted his head slightly; his lips brushed my cheek before pulling away.
“Answer me. Right now.”
Knock, knock.
The door opened with the sound of knocking. It was Euton and Lady Mare. Euton rushed over in alarm.
“Your Majesty! We were wondering where you had gone—so you were here?”
He quickly took Leto away.
“Please don’t lean on Her Majesty like that. I apologize, Your Majesty the Empress. I should have attended him better.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Sir Euton saved me.”
Leto allowed himself to be dragged out, as if he couldn’t win. Lady Mare asked worriedly,
“Your Majesty, you seem to have a fever. Are you all right?”
At her words, I looked at the wall mirror. My face really was flushed red.
The next afternoon, I summoned Sean to the sitting room. He was wearing the Imperial Guard uniform; the navy outfit suited his brown hair well.
“The uniform suits you.”
“Ha, does it?”
“You must have drunk quite a lot last night, but you look perfectly fine.”
“I’ve always been sturdy. After sleeping it off, that much alcohol disappears completely.”
Impressive stamina. He really was more knight than mage.
“I thought the Imperial Guards were a bunch of stiff, close‑minded guys, but once I actually got to know them, it was different. They’ve got loyalty and unity. Totally different from those guild bastards.”
“Sounds like you really like them. I’m glad I recommended the Imperial Guard.”
“Ahem, well… I’m still a mage at heart, of course. But Livia, why did you suddenly call for me?”
“Brother, did you drink with His Majesty yesterday?”
“We all drank together. Why? Did His Majesty mention me?”
Since joining the Guard, even the way he addressed Leto had changed. He used to call him “the Emperor” or “that guy.” Now it was always “His Majesty the Emperor.”
“Not exactly. I thought you might have talked about me to His Majesty.”
Sean looked confused at first, then snapped his fingers as understanding dawned on him. He looked a little embarrassed.
“Well… I might’ve said something unnecessary…”
“It’s fine. Please tell me.”
Sean began recounting the events of the previous night.
So he talked about the dead Livia. Even I hadn’t expected that. A marquis’s only daughter with an inferiority complex?
Maybe this worked out for the best.
Bringing up magic with Leto last night had been rash. He didn’t even know about Meryl yet.
But if Sean had already told him that story… then Leto might think I wanted a divorce because of my inferiority complex.
“D‑Did I mess up?”
“No, brother. You actually did well.”
“Really?”
Sean’s face brightened.
“Yes. Please continue to do your best for the imperial family.”
“Of course. Just trust me. Call me whenever you need help. I’ll always be in the palace.”
Sean laughed confidently. It felt like I’d gained a reliable ally for the imperial family—though one who could go off in any direction.
A little later, Lady Mare entered the room.
“Your Majesty, His Majesty the Emperor asks that you join him for lunch.”
“His Majesty?”
I considered refusing as usual, but decided against it.
Last night made something clear.
Drawing a line with Leto is meaningless. He crosses it effortlessly.
He wasn’t someone I could deal with by avoiding him. The more I avoided him, the more ready he was to come at me.
In the end, the only thing left was a head‑on confrontation.
Get a grip. And reject him clearly.
I went to the dining room at lunchtime. Leto was waiting for me, looking neat and composed. There was no sign he’d overindulged at all. Everyone here had absurd stamina.
“Welcome.”
His voice was a little hoarse—languid in a way that felt oddly new.
I sat across from him.
“How’s your stomach?”
“I drank a bit too much last night, but I’m fine. I can handle it.”
His expression was as calm as ever. Did he not remember last night? If only that were the case.
The meal was pleasant—until Leto brought it up.
“Parham failed at refining indigo.”
“What?!”
He chuckled at my reaction.
“Don’t be so shocked. It was just one failure.”
I let out a breath. So it wasn’t a total failure.
“I’ve been too distracted with my brother to pay attention to Indigo. I should visit Parham soon.”
“You? Why?”
“I think he could use some encouragement.”
Leto rested his chin on his hand and narrowed his eyes at me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s sad, really. You’re so kind to other men.”
“Are you picking a fight right now?”
“As if.”
He smiled, as though telling me not to misunderstand—so brightly it almost surprised me.
Then he said,
“I’m sorry about yesterday.”
So he does remember.
I pretended nothing was wrong and cut my potatoes with a knife.
“It’s fine. Anyone can get drunk.”
“Drunk behavior? I must’ve been completely out of my mind.”
He shook his head, saying that—yet still poured wine into his glass.
“You’re drinking again?”
“Why? Worried?”
He asked teasingly.
“If you tell me not to, I won’t.”
He slid the wineglass to the center of the table. The red wine rippled softly.
I met his gaze directly.
“Yes. Don’t drink. I don’t want to talk to someone who’s drunk again.”
“…Fine. I’ll stay sober.”
He spun the wineglass lightly, as if joking. The wine wavered on the verge of spilling as he stared at it.
“I like you. I’m sure of it.”
…So it’s come to this.
Silence fell. He asked,
“Don’t tell me you’re going to say you didn’t hear me again?”
“No. I heard you clearly. You said you like me.”
“Good. Then I’d like an answer.”
I set down my fork and knife, straightened my back, and folded my hands.
“There’s only one answer I can give you.”
“And what is it?”
“I will divorce Your Majesty. Just as I told you from the beginning.”
Leto shook his head, as if he’d expected it.
“Sorry, but that’s not an answer.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m asking about your feelings. Whether you like me or hate me.”
“……”
“I asked the same thing yesterday. It probably sounded like drunken nonsense.”
This—he meant that question.
Are you doing this because you don’t like me?
If not—does that mean you like me?
He traced the rim of the wineglass with his fingertip, smooth and unhurried, as if he were casting a spell.
I took the glass from him. His fingers hovered in midair.
Then I drained it in one go and set the empty glass down with a soft clink. He watched, amused.
“If I liked Your Majesty, I wouldn’t have brought up divorce at all.”
“Then say you hate me. That’s all you have to do.”
“…….”
“Right here. Look at me and say it.”
Yes. One word would end it. I hate you.
I opened my mouth… and closed it again.
I could talk about divorce a hundred times. But that one word wouldn’t come out. As if I were truly under a spell.
“Looks like you can’t say it.”
“Maybe I’ve grown attached.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“That’s a problem. Now I can’t help but get my hopes up.”
“Your Majesty.”
He tilted his head, as if telling me to go on.
“We will divorce. That fact won’t change. What meaning does a question like that have in this situation?”
“It matters to me.”
Leto said it flatly, as if this was something he would never compromise on.
“You’re my wife. To me, your feelings matter more than anything else. More than that damned divorce.”
“They might not matter to me.”
“Then I’ll worry about them for the both of us. Like I am now.”
I clenched my fist under the table. A love with no cracks, no hesitation—pressing in on me.
A feeling I’d never once received in my life.
And Leto, of all people, was trying to give it to me.
I calmed myself.
“Stop. You’ll only get hurt.”
“Hurt…”
He murmured, staring at me for a long moment.
“Livia.”
“……”
“It hurts me more to see you deny your own feelings.”
I didn’t ask why. He’d already answered.
Because my feelings mattered more than anything else—as long as I was his wife.
“I can wait.”
“For what?”
“Until you give me a clear answer. Whichever it is.”
Wait—for a single word. Like or hate.
Only for my sake.
I should have said it was pointless. But something else slipped out instead.
“How long will you wait?”
“As long as it takes. Until you’re ready.”
“You’ll get frustrated.”
He let out a small laugh.
“Do you think I plan to just sit around waiting? I’ll do everything I can.”
A confession like a declaration of war. An unwavering resolve.
I swallowed.
“Fine. Go ahead and try.”
I won’t fall for it.
