Chapter 14
Giselle trembled inside the palace assigned to her — the Lampas Palace.
In truth, she still felt dazed.
It felt as if the whole world had decided to play some cruel joke on her.
Since last night, everything had felt unreal.
‘Me… becoming the Empress? The Empress?’
Giselle had never once thought the world around her made any sense —
the class system, or her own station in life.
So when she was summoned to the Emperor’s chambers, she didn’t refuse.
How could a lowborn girl hope to understand the minds of those above her?
When they summon you, you go.
When they command you, you even pretend to die if that’s what they want.
That was the fate of those below.
But Giselle couldn’t help thinking of the Emperor’s notorious reputation —
the stories of countless purges, both before and after he ascended the throne.
A man said to have no blood nor tears,
a man who had even locked away his own father-in-law in a cold northern asylum.
Giselle knew well how terrified Anel was of him —
how she froze in his presence,
how she suffered nightmares every time she had to face him.
Giselle had been at Anel’s side her entire life. She knew all of it.
And that wasn’t all. There were other rumors.
‘They say a woman once hanged herself because of him…’
Supposedly, it was because the Emperor had rejected her love —
but who could ever know the truth?
Giselle never trusted noblemen.
Serving in noble households, you heard things — whether you wanted to or not.
She was lucky that Duke Morata had no interest in women,
and that there were no other men in his house.
But the stories her friends told, the ones who served elsewhere — they were horrifying.
She had even gone out of her way to avoid noble sons at parties.
‘But why me?’
Giselle couldn’t understand.
Then she recalled something unpleasant she’d overheard not long ago:
‘There are dozens of girls like you in the palace!’
It had been a rude, ignorant remark — but true enough.
Since arriving at the imperial palace, Giselle had realized how utterly unremarkable she was.
Especially considering the new Emperor —
even without his title, noble ladies would’ve thrown themselves at him by the dozens.
So why her?
Why had he chosen her?
By now, Giselle was half-convinced the Emperor had summoned her just to kill her for sport.
“Wait here.”
The Emperor’s attendant bowed politely.
Giselle knew that even an attendant of the Emperor was of noble birth.
For someone like that to bow to her — it felt wrong.
So she neither sat nor stood properly, but waited awkwardly in between.
Soon, the bedroom door opened and a man entered.
Giselle instinctively bent into a deep bow.
Whoever he was, no one in this palace stood lower than she.
“There’s no need to shake like a wet dog.”
At the sound of his voice, Giselle froze.
“I have no interest whatsoever in your body.”
It was him.
The same man who had entered the lady’s room.
Her senses sharpened.
No interest in her body?
Giselle squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as if her thoughts had been laid bare.
How pathetic must she look right now?
“Your name.”
That voice — low and chilling enough to make her shiver.
“Giselle.”
He said nothing for a while.
Giselle didn’t dare move, afraid she’d already made some mistake.
“A good name.”
A good name? Her heart skipped a beat at such a simple phrase.
All her life, she’d been embarrassed of her name.
Commoners mocked it as too fancy — something fit for a noble lady.
Nobles laughed, asking if she’d stolen her mistress’s name.
“But it’s too short.”
Giselle’s face flamed red.
Of course it was short — commoners had no surnames.
Why point that out?
“What name would suit you, I wonder.”
She heard the crisp sound of parchment brushing together —
an envelope tearing open, the faint rustle of paper in his gloved hands.
Every sound felt sharp and real.
Giselle clasped her hands together and waited.
Waiting was, after all, what she did best.
“Ah.”
At last, his voice held a note of satisfaction.
He approached until he stood right before her.
“Raise your head.”
Slowly, Giselle lifted her chin.
She didn’t dare straighten her back — only raised her face a little.
And when he filled her vision completely, she forgot to breathe.
Not because of his pale lemon hair or the arrogant glint of his green eyes —
but because of him.
His entire being radiated a cold, sculpted cruelty —
even the way he extended two fingers from beneath white gloves seemed disdainful.
“Hmm.”
Between those two fingers, he held a small ivory card.
He tilted his head and pressed it lightly against her cheek.
“Yes. This will do.”
Giselle shifted her gaze just enough to read the writing on the card.
Anel had taught her to read, so she could make out the last few letters… —teranza?
“Giselle Esteranza.”
He pronounced it slowly.
Giselle hadn’t realized, at first, that the name leaving his lips was her own.
The idea that the word attached to it was now her surname — she couldn’t believe it.
“You don’t seem pleased.”
It wasn’t a matter of liking or disliking.
She quickly shook her head.
To have a surname was every commoner’s dream —
and one personally bestowed by the Emperor? How could she not be honored?
“Then what about this one?”
But the man simply tossed the paper aside, as if it meant nothing at all.
As if a surname were of no consequence to him.
Giselle thought of how many people would trade their entire fortunes for that one slip of paper.
Some would even trade their children.
“Would you prefer the surname Denegher?”
And Giselle realized she would trade even herself.
So she accepted it —
even knowing it was a deal with the devil.
“Everyone may rest for today.”
Since it hadn’t been a formal wedding, the Emperor was under no obligation to visit the Devita Palace.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Please summon us whenever you require.”
Thus, Devita Palace was quiet —
or rather, only the servants of Devita Palace were quiet.
Anel’s heart was anything but.
Inside that silence, chaos roared.
She sat by the window, glaring at the Potentia Palace across the courtyard.
Even in the rain, Potentia Palace gleamed bright.
So different from the dim halls of Devita Palace,
where she’d ordered only the bare minimum of lamps to save on expenses.
But she didn’t really see any of that.
Her heart felt barren.
Three names kept echoing in her mind —
Samuel. Giselle. Johann.
Samuel. Giselle. Johann.
Johann…
“Johann.”
She rolled the name on her tongue.
It tasted bitter.
She’d always thought him mad — but today, he had surpassed himself.
Anel was almost impressed by his cruelty.
How could anyone be so monstrously evil?
‘You already took everything from me… and still, you had more left to take.’
Her family, her father, her beloved fiancé — the only person who had ever loved her.
And now, even her only friend.
Anel remembered Giselle’s eyes when they met earlier —
guilt, fear, tension… and finally, triumph.
‘How could you look at me like that, Giselle?
How could you feel victorious in that moment?’
She didn’t want to understand Giselle.
But she did.
That girl — who had always longed for what Anel possessed.
Born on the same day, in the same house, yet forced to live such different lives.
How could she not recognize the jealousy in those eyes?
She’d simply chosen to ignore it.
Anel already had more than enough problems of her own.
‘You must have been looking only at your own misery too, Giselle.’
Still — they’d shared over a decade together.
Even if it had been an employment bond, Anel had thought of Giselle as her only friend.
She had confided in her, supported her, done what she could to make her happier.
And now that same girl looked at her despair… and felt victory.
Anel’s gaze returned to Potentia Palace.
Yes — she could still forgive Giselle.
After all, what choice had she ever been given?
Anel herself had none.
The master of that palace had stolen every choice from them both.
“Johann.”
Anel whispered his name again.
Even if she forgave everyone else —
him, she never could.
