Vol. 1 - Chapter 103

After a day-long journey, Daphne and Edmund arrived in the capital just before dawn. Several carriages slipped quietly into the city through a back gate, deliberately left open by Benjamin, who had gone ahead of them as the advance party. The carriages kept to the shadows, moving in silence.

Upon arrival, Daphne headed straight into the mansion while Edmund took care of organizing their surroundings.

In the quiet mansion, a single light flicked on. It was in Daphne’s room. Edmund paused, watching the room as the light soon went out again. A faint shadow emerged from Daphne’s room.

“Is something the matter?”

Benjamin asked. Edmund shook his head.

“…No, it’s nothing.”

Since it was the dead of night, Edmund went straight to his office and began tackling the pile of work that had built up during the day.

“Your Excellency, a decree from His Majesty has reached the nobles in the capital.”

Just a few hours later, Johann burst into the office, out of breath.

Although there was still nearly a month left until the founding festival, the Emperor had abruptly decided to host a banquet, mere hours after Edmund arrived in the capital.

Even though they had arrived with only a small group, there was no escaping the many spies scattered throughout the city. Their intentions were all too transparent, yet Edmund did not refuse the invitation.

— — —

After changing into formal attire, Edmund opened the door of the carriage. Daphne, pale from lack of sleep, was dozing off, her head bobbing slightly. Edmund hesitated for a moment, then carefully stepped into the carriage. As usual, he took the seat furthest from Daphne.

“…!”

Just then, Daphne’s head, swaying precariously, suddenly tilted to the side. Edmund quickly reached out and caught it with his hand. More than half of her pale face disappeared into his palm, her soft hair brushing gently between his fingers.

Deep in slumber, Daphne showed no signs of waking. Her eyes twitched slightly before settling into a steady rhythm of breathing. After a brief hesitation, Edmund shifted to sit beside her, gently leaning her head against his shoulder.

Then, hearing someone approach, he swiftly opened the window and raised a finger to his lips.

“Shh.”

“…Ah.”

Johann, who had just been about to knock, quietly lowered his hand. Catching sight of the scene inside, he instantly grasped the situation and lowered his voice.

“I have something to report.”

“Later. Let’s depart slowly. It doesn’t matter if we’re late.”

“…Understood.”

Johann passed Edmund’s message to the coachman at the front. The carriage began moving slowly and smoothly, so gently that one might not have even noticed had they been lost in thought.

Within the carriage, only Daphne’s soft breaths could be heard. A breeze, likely from the slightly open window, stirred her hair, making it flutter like a dance. Along with it, her faint scent drifted toward Edmund.

“…”

Unconsciously, Edmund’s grip on the papers in his hand tightened.

“Mm…”

Daphne rubbed her cheek against Edmund’s shoulder. At the sudden contact, Edmund inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing.

“…Daphne.”

Edmund gently shook her by the shoulder. Soon, her eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened.

“We’ve arrived.”

“…Ah.”

Realizing the situation, Daphne quickly pulled away, startled. The distance between them widened instantly, and even the slight warmth remaining on Edmund’s shoulder dissipated.

Seeing herself leaning on Edmund’s shoulder, Daphne looked confused as she straightened the slight wrinkles on her dress. Edmund stepped out of the carriage first and opened the door.

“Daphne, your hand…”

He extended his hand toward her, but Daphne had already stepped down on her own. She stared at Edmund’s outstretched hand for a moment, then walked past him. Watching her retreating figure, Edmund slowly clenched his hand into a fist… then let it go. He quickly caught up to her and walked by her side.

As the banquet was about to begin, there wasn’t a single person in sight on their way to the palace. As the palace gates came into view, Edmund stopped and offered his arm to Daphne.

“People will find it strange otherwise.”

“…”

Daphne looked at him with unreadable eyes before lightly placing her hand on his forearm. Even that small contact made Edmund’s back flinch slightly. He matched his pace to hers as they walked.

“The Duke and Duchess of Winter have arrived!”

The attendant’s voice rang out loudly, his eyes widening at the sight of them.

As the doors opened, hundreds of eyes turned toward them. At that moment, Edmund pulled Daphne’s arm closer, narrowing the distance between them as they stepped forward.

Startled, Daphne glanced at him, but Edmund stared straight ahead. She bit her lip and walked on beside him.

Once they reached the seats directly below the Emperor’s, Daphne immediately withdrew her arm. Edmund let it go without resistance, as if he had never been holding her at all.

“Your Excellency.”

Johann approached from behind. With a champagne glass at his lips, Edmund murmured without moving them.

“Speak.”

“The reason for today’s banquet is to grant an official title to the Emperor’s concubine.”

Edmund’s brows drew together. While many Emperors had kept lovers or mistresses, none had ever formally bestowed them with titles. This was unprecedented.

“They don’t know what’s going on.”

Clearly, the nobles hadn’t gathered here just to witness a commoner receiving a noble title. They, too, were unaware of the Emperor’s true intention.

“Yes. And… the Emperor’s concubine is indeed the person you suspected.”

“…It’s really that maid?”

Yureit had said the Emperor’s mistress was a former maid from House Winter who had supposedly taken her own life months ago. And it was true.

Just as Johann began to confirm this, a loud voice announced the Emperor’s arrival. Everyone bowed as footsteps approached, accompanied by a foul stench.

‘The smell of a corpse?’

Recognizing it immediately, Edmund frowned deeply.

“Raise your heads.”

At the Emperor’s weak command, Edmund lifted his head only to grimace.

The source of the stench was none other than the Emperor himself. He reeked of death.

* * *

The Emperor’s complexion was ashen. His skin sagged from extreme weight loss, and his fingers were stiff like a corpse’s.

“The reason I’ve called you all here today…”

As Johann had predicted, the Emperor’s words were a thinly veiled declaration.

In essence, he announced that he would bestow an official title upon his concubine, who was of common birth. The nobles could barely contain their confusion and began murmuring among themselves.

Then the doors opened, and a woman with light brown hair, nearly mistaken for blonde, entered beneath the grand chandeliers.

“Your Majesty.”

With a charming flutter of her eyes, the woman who approached was the very maid Edmund remembered.

Kneeling before the Emperor, Marinda kissed the back of his hand, then flicked her tongue across her lips while glancing sideways at Edmund. Before he could even process the meaning of her gesture, she had risen to stand beside the Emperor.

Skipping any formal preamble, a tiara was placed upon Marinda’s head. With the Empress’ seat still vacant, Marinda, as the first imperial consort, was now the de facto mistress of the palace.

One by one, nobles stepped forward in order of rank and bowed to Marinda. Though their words were polished, none could fully hide the humiliation in their expressions. It was only natural since nobles who had lived their whole lives in arrogance were now bowing to a mere commoner.

“This is outrageous, Your Majesty!”

The shout came abruptly. The Emperor’s expression darkened at once.

“How dare you question my word? Step forward at once!”

“Kyaaa!”

As the imperial guards drew their swords, noblewomen screamed. Soon, the one who had spoken was dragged to the Emperor and forced to his knees. It was Count Pavel, known for his uprightness, who stood tall and unyielding.

“To bestow the title of Imperial Consort upon a commoner, this must not be allowed!”

“You… you insolent wretch! Even you would defy me?”

The Emperor, trembling with rage, lost control. He seized the sword from the captain of the guard beside him. But the weight was too much. He staggered, unable to lift it properly. Once a mighty warrior, the Emperor had become so frail he could no longer wield a blade.

“Your Majesty, please calm yourself.”

Amid the chaos, Yureit stepped forward, his expression calm and composed.

“Count Mute… Are you betraying me too?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty. But this is a celebration for Her Imperial Highness. Surely, the scent of blood does not belong here. Would it not be better to postpone Count Pavel’s punishment and continue with the banquet?”

Breathing heavily, the Emperor struggled to contain his fury.

“Cough, cough!”

He broke into a violent coughing fit, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

“Tch!”

With a grunt, he threw the sword aside and slumped into his seat. Just as the room began to relax…

“No, Your Majesty.”

A voice cut through the tension. It was Sergei.

T/N: I wish not to see Sergei ever again…