Chapter 08
At Leoni’s announcement, a voice from inside soon granted permission to enter. She opened the door and led Irein and Cedric in.
“May the glory of Pleta be eternal… I am Irein Ediophe Chaint of the House of Chaint.”
Irein greeted in a quieter-than-usual voice.
With her head lowered, she didn’t forget to act as if she was too afraid to meet his eyes.
“Sit.”
Killian glanced over her once and took his seat first, gesturing for her to sit as well. Irein hesitated before sitting across from him.
“I believe this is the first time we’re meeting like this.”
Though it sounded casual, it felt loaded.
His presence as emperor seemed far heavier than it had been a few years ago.
“I-I’m sorry. My body is weak, so I had to remain in recovery for a long time.”
“I didn’t tell you to apologize, but I’ll accept it anyway.”
Of course he’s the emperor—what an unpleasant personality.
As Killian spoke with a relaxed smile, Irein grumbled inwardly.
“I heard you had a chronic illness… Did it begin after a severe fever in childhood?”
“Yes. There were aftereffects and complications from that fever.”
She realized he had already investigated her—this was just confirmation.
Killian examined her carefully.
She looked nothing like a war hero.
Her bloodshot eyes dulled the clarity they once had at the engagement ceremony.
“So the rumors about your recovery were false.”
“The engagement ceremony was my first time leaving the estate in a while… I thought I had improved, but perhaps not enough.”
After her clumsy reply, silence followed.
Irein glanced at him—he wasn’t even looking at her, seemingly deep in thought.
Then why call me here at all?
She started to grow irritated.
He probably lost interest seeing I’m weaker than expected.
It wasn’t hard to understand his reaction.
At the engagement, she had looked perfect thanks to careful preparation.
Now, her oversized clothes hid even what little muscle she had, making her look completely frail.
I might actually get out of here safely.
Suppressing her excitement, Irein took a sip of tea.
“Hoh.”
At that moment, Killian let out a low exclamation.
Startled, Irein looked up.
His red eyes gleamed sharply as he smiled.
“Everyone except the Marquis Chaint—leave.”
In that instant, Irein sensed something had gone wrong.
There wasn’t much information about Irein.
A severe childhood fever, declining health ever since, unable to leave the estate.
Even when she occasionally appeared in town, she looked extremely frail.
Everyone said the same thing.
And the woman before Killian matched those rumors perfectly.
She looked like she might collapse any second, barely standing with the help of a guard twice her size.
Up close, aside from her eyes, she had little in common with Essi Ahil.
Killian fell into thought.
The feeling he had when their eyes met before still lingered vividly.
Even now, though dimmer, her eyes gave off a similar impression.
He looked at her again.
That’s when he noticed her hand reaching for the teacup.
“Hoh.”
Had she let her guard down?
A predator’s smile spread across his face.
Irein flinched and set the teacup down.
“Everyone except the Marquis Chaint—leave.”
At the sudden command, Irein’s eyes trembled slightly.
From experience, that kind of smile meant he had found a weakness.
The guards left first, but Cedric stayed close behind her, sensing danger.
“Will you defy the imperial command?”
Killian’s voice pressed down like a tightening noose.
“My lady…”
Caught in a dilemma, Cedric called out anxiously.
Before coming, he had heard from Rachel how frail Irein had been since childhood.
He wanted to stay no matter what—but this situation made it difficult.
Reading the situation, Irein gave a small nod, signaling it was okay.
Eventually, Cedric left with Leoni.
“…What is it?”
Irein asked calmly.
Her attitude was completely different from before.
Killian smirked.
“I thought we might have a lot to discuss.”
“I have little to say to Your Majesty. I’ve spent my life confined to my estate—what stories could I possibly have?”
“Your hands. For someone who’s been chronically ill, they have quite a few scars and calluses.”
He pointed at her hands.
Earlier, he had focused on her face and overall appearance.
But when she reached for the teacup, the marks on her hands stood out.
“My mother wished for me to train in swordsmanship once I recovered. So I began training as my health improved.”
“Your mother—Vanessa Chaint, the former emperor’s royal guard captain.”
The “former emperor” he referred to was not Gridial, but his mother, Tess.
Killian never acknowledged Gridial as emperor.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“I see similar calluses on your left hand. Can you use a sword with both hands?”
“In the Chaint family, we are trained to use either hand equally.”
That was partly true.
They trained to ensure no difference between hands—so one could still fight if the other was lost.
“A few years ago, there was a war hero who shook the empire. Do you know of them?”
To others, it might seem like a random question.
But Irein knew exactly what he meant.
“I’ve heard a little. But why bring that up…?”
“That war hero used dual daggers—one in each hand.”
It was the very technique she had learned from the assassin guild master.
As Essi, she used longswords too—but preferred daggers.
“…Is that so…?”
She feigned ignorance.
“And they had blue eyes. Like yours.”
Killian spoke as if testing her.
But Irein sensed—he was only guessing.
If he had proof, he wouldn’t be probing like this.
“You don’t think I’m that war hero… do you? Haha… That can’t be it. Aside from my eyes, I’m completely different.”
Without proof, this goes nowhere.
Both of them knew that eyes and hand calluses weren’t enough.
This was a battle of words.
An invisible clash of spear and shield.
“Indeed, there are many differences. Hair color, speech, even the scars on your face.”
Killian stroked his sword and drew it.
The diamond embedded in the hilt glowed red, as if soaked in blood.
“But.”
The blade tilted slowly toward Irein—stopping just before her eyes.
“That gaze… it bothers me.”
Even with the sword nearly piercing her eyes, Irein didn’t flinch.
Killian’s killing intent surged—as if he might strike at any moment.
“You don’t avoid the blade. Yet earlier you looked like you might collapse.”
“In my family, we do not avoid a blade. No matter the situation—or the opponent.”
“Not avoiding a blade… I see.”
Murmuring, Killian sheathed his sword.
The killing intent faded, replaced by an unreadable smile.
“According to reports, your father once served as an aide to the former emperor.”
“Yes… that’s correct…”
Her parents had met under Empress Tess—her mother as a guard captain, her father as an aide.
After marriage, her father left the position, but had been known as highly capable.
Irein knew the current emperor had no aide.
She had researched him just as he had her.
So the moment he mentioned her father—
She felt a bad premonition.
“I will appoint you as my aide.”
As expected, the words she feared came directly from Killian’s mouth.
