CHAPTER 57……..
Don’t Cry
“Your Majesty! My heartfelt congratulations!”
Right after the coronation ended, Marquis Tailo, the de facto head of the ministers, bowed deeply to Illeon.
“I knew from the beginning that this day would come.”
Looking down at the marquis’s sparsely-haired head, Illeon asked:
“How is the public sentiment right now?”
“Thanks to Your Majesty’s coronation, the entire nation is in a festive mood. It seems the death of the royal family is the last thing on their minds.”
Everything was just as Illeon had expected.
Holding the coronation the very next day after the royal family’s funeral had been a way to quell suspicion and discontent.
If the royal family were still alive when Illeon took the throne, people would have claimed he’d broken his oath not to ascend, and the backlash would have been enormous.
But with the entire royal family dead, Illeon’s rise to the throne was not an act of treason—it was the rise of a hero.
There were still people like Valt who resented him, but overturning the public sentiment so firmly in his favor was almost impossible.
He could have chosen to pin all the crimes—including the alleged regicide—on Dietrich and throw him in prison, but Illeon hadn’t done that.
Because his method was always to give hope and then take it away.
When someone thought they could escape, but they were already caught in a trap, dying slowly.
When something seemed like hope, but turned out to be despair dressed in hope’s clothing.
He liked seeing those desperate faces on the edge of a cliff.
But he knew that even if he imprisoned Dietrich, the man wouldn’t bat an eye.
So he had given him various choices, never imagining he would pick the one involving his own sister.
‘I thought a man with his level of fastidiousness would rather abandon her than choose that option.’
Apparently, Celia meant more to Dietrich than he’d thought.
“What do you intend to do with Celia Brillion and the Duke of Calypso?”
At the marquis’s question, Illeon’s lips curved faintly.
But perhaps because his hair was now cut short, his smile seemed colder than before.
The corners of his mouth were upturned, yet the sharp blue eyes under his silver-gray hair carried a deadly edge.
He no longer looked like a saint—he looked like a true emperor. Marquis Tailo swallowed hard.
“The duke is an issue, but that woman Celia especially—how dare she storm out in the middle of Your Majesty’s coronation, so disrespectfully—”
“Marquis.”
Illeon cut him off.
“There are many ears listening. Lower your voice.”
“My apologies. I got carried away…”
Illeon placed a hand on the marquis’s shoulder.
For a moment, the old man’s gaze shifted to the pale, smooth hand—without a single callus—that held him.
The coldness in those blue eyes beneath the silver-gray hair was like ice, but only briefly.
“We’ll talk later. I have more pressing matters right now.”
Illeon’s hand withdrew.
‘At last I have the throne I so desired.’
After parting ways with the marquis, Illeon entered the emperor’s chambers and slowly brushed a hand over the golden throne.
‘So why does it feel so unsettling? Like I’ve forgotten something…’
He narrowed his eyes.
No one dared question his right to the throne.
Arthur had cleaned up the aftermath perfectly, and Illeon had manipulated public opinion to his advantage.
‘And yet…’
Something still gnawed at him.
At that moment, Celia’s voice replayed unbidden in his mind:
—I’ll be going now. This is less fun than I thought.
She was the woman who had openly said his coronation was boring.
—Because you’re not a good person, Your Grace.
Not a good person. No one had ever said that to him before.
A person worth tormenting was a delight.
Illeon smiled faintly, his newly short hair making his sharp features even more striking.
And so, his smile now looked colder than ever.
Dietrich hesitated for a long time before knocking on Celia’s door.
Knock, knock.
No answer from inside.
“Celia.”
He called her name softly.
He wanted to apologize.
Even in hindsight, making such a decision without consulting her had been wrong.
He hadn’t considered her feelings at all.
From the beginning, he had only sought to use her—
Under the guise of protecting her, he had casually declared she would serve him as her master, just to keep the gifted Celia by his side.
It was his own fault that this had become his weakness.
Celia had had no real options besides him.
And knowing that, he had still used her.
“I have something to say, Celia.”
He called her again, but the room remained silent.
Growing worried, Dietrich opened the door.
His gaze fell on Celia, curled up like a shrimp on the white bed.
The large room was filled only with the sound of her quiet breathing.
Approaching the bed, he called again:
“Celia, are you asleep?”
She didn’t stir.
Unable to tell if she was awake or not, he studied her closely.
Her long lashes rested on her cheeks, and her breathing was steady and even.
She was in a deep sleep—so deep she couldn’t hear him calling.
A gentle smile touched Dietrich’s lips, but his eyes remained clouded with concern.
If it had been someone else who entered instead of him—
A person with strong abilities could draw others like moths to a flame, whether they wanted to or not.
That was why he felt he had to protect her.
Celia’s powers had no effect on him, since he possessed the healing ability.
Yet he found himself increasingly drawn to her.
Watching someone sleep in secret was impolite.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, he pulled the blanket over her.
Her face relaxed slightly.
Almost without thinking, his hand moved to stroke her cheek—only to stop just before touching.
…
He pulled his hand back.
If he gave in, how would he be any different from the crown prince who had desired her?
He had no right to condemn anyone else.
That night, Lady Reina had summoned him to her chambers.
The price of giving his body was Celia’s guaranteed safety.
But was that really what Celia wanted?
Perhaps he had wanted her to tell him not to go.
To think he could decide everything himself and still expect her to stop him—
‘Truly, I’m trash.’
He laughed bitterly to himself. He wasn’t even qualified to protect her.
Perhaps the greatest threat to her wasn’t Emperor Illeon—but him.
“You can fly away if you want. As far as you like.”
He had always thought having something to protect was a nuisance.
But what was worse was developing feelings beyond the duty to protect.
Slowly, he rose, careful not to wake her.
Then—
“…Don’t… go.”
Her fragile voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Don’t leave me alone…”
The sorrow in her trembling voice was enough to break anyone’s heart.
“M… mom, dad… don’t leave me alone. I have nothing left.”
“….”
“I don’t need this stupid power. Power that couldn’t even protect my mom and dad…”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“If I don’t take revenge, who will? Mom, Dad… how can I face our people in death… I’ll do it, with my own strength…”
She bit her lip and sobbed quietly.
“…I miss you.”
Dietrich looked down at her, feeling as though he had intruded on something he shouldn’t have seen.
Then he sat on the bed and spoke softly:
“You’re not alone.”
At his words, her sobbing stopped as if it had been a lie.
“You have me now.”
He took her hand in his, weaving his fingers with hers.
“So don’t cry. Okay?”
With his other hand, he brushed away her tears.
This was only the second time he had seen her show weakness like this—
The first had been when her body was breaking down from overusing her powers.
The second was now.
Though he was skilled with a sword, comforting someone was another matter entirely.
If she had been hiding her pain and acting cheerful all this time, the thought made his chest ache.
“I’ll stay with you. As long as you want.”
It was a promise he probably couldn’t keep.
But at those words, her tears stopped. Soon she was breathing evenly again.
Dietrich remained by her side, holding her hand, until the long night passed—
Until the next morning, when a furious Lady Reina stormed into his mansion for breaking their agreement.
