29.
*Clatter.*
Edwin’s hand went limp, and the quill slipped from his fingers.
He didn’t even notice. His mind was elsewhere, occupied by a singular, persistent thought. He covered his flushed face with his hands and muttered, “It touched me.”
The words seemed to scrape against his teeth. As his own voice echoed in the quiet office, the sensation he had barely begun to suppress washed over him again—the memory of how his arm felt against hers when Lady Diaz had linked her hand with his.
As the thought took hold, Edwin’s face burned a deep, scorching crimson. He forcibly cut the recollection short to salvage what remained of his dignity. Clearing his throat, he glanced around the empty office, casting about for a distraction, and spoke aloud to the walls.
“Summer is, indeed, summer. It’s hot.”
He blamed the heat in his skin on the weather, ignoring the fact that he had spent his youth on the eastern front where the sun was far more punishing than in the Capital. He ignored, too, that the Emperor’s office was climate-controlled by the latest magical artifacts to ensure comfort in any season. Regardless, it was the weather’s fault.
Cheeks blazing, he snatched up a stack of documents and fanned himself with them. He didn’t care that they were vital papers regarding the re-negotiation of reparations with the Kingdom Of Bellot; cooling his skin took precedence. For a while, only the frantic fluttering of paper filled the room.
*Knock, knock.*
Just as the documents were becoming hopelessly crumpled, a knock interrupted his agitation.
“……Come in.”
Edwin recognized the rhythm belatedly and granted entry, though he didn’t stop fanning himself.
“Your Majesty.”
It was Kyle.
Edwin, brimming with emotions that had been swelling like a balloon, watched with sparkling eyes; he had finally found someone he could pour his heart out to without the burden of imperial decorum.
Kyle, upon entering, flinched at the sight of the Emperor’s flushed face. A look of *I’ve walked into the wrong place* flickered across his features. He instinctively stepped back, but then braced his legs and held his ground. As the self-proclaimed strategist to the Emperor, Kyle’s brain raced. He chose to open the conversation with a grave expression.
“Regarding that Crown Princess.”
The softness in Edwin’s expression vanished, replaced by an instant, hardening chill.
“What about the Crown Princess?”
Edwin tossed the crumpled documents onto his desk, leaned back, and retorted in a sullen tone. His gaze was sharp enough to freeze a man’s blood, but Kyle welcomed the iciness.
*‘At least I won’t have to spend eight hours listening to the four hours you spent with Lady Diaz.’*
Kyle hid a sigh of relief. The major crisis was averted, but a minor one remained.
“As I said, regarding the Crown Princess…” Kyle searched for a way to present the topic neutrally. *It’s significant, but it’s also trivial.* In the end, he decided to stick to the facts. “She has again expressed her intention to pursue a political marriage.”
A political marriage was the symbolic seal of friendly nations. However, because the Emperor was the sole survivor of the Imperial family and the Princess of the Kingdom Of Bellot was the only successor to her throne, previous discussions had fizzled out—there simply wasn’t a suitable match. To bring it up again suggested the Crown Princess had shifted her focus toward the Empire. It was a positive development, though perhaps not a vital one.
Kyle watched Edwin cautiously. Usually, this would be the moment for a merciless scolding, but Edwin’s mind was elsewhere.
“A political marriage, huh.”
Now shifting into work mode, Edwin tapped his desk with a rhythmic finger. “Who does the Kingdom have in mind?”
“It seems they are considering the Crown Princess’s younger brother by the same mother, the Third Prince, or herself.”
Kyle straightened his posture. “The Crown Princess would be the better choice for the Empire. The Third Prince only holds his position because she claimed him as her brother. Even if I have no desire to swallow Bellot, there is no harm in having the Empire’s bloodline flow into their royal house.”
Edwin nodded, still looking sullen. “I’ll have to look for a suitable young noble. Someone quick-witted and adept at social strategy.”
“I will compile a list and report to you soon,” Kyle bowed.
As the talk of work ended, the tension in Edwin’s shoulders dissipated, his expression melting like snow in spring. It was a clear signal that the talk of ‘Lady Diaz’ was about to resume.
“Then, if you’ll excuse me.”
Kyle seized his chance to exit with profound gratitude.
It was the day after I had visited the third exhibition hall with Everett.
*‘I’m tired.’*
I yawned softly as I stepped off the commuter carriage. The workload at the office was so heavy that my one day off a week felt like a luxury, and since I had spent my recent holidays out and about, my exhaustion was finally catching up to me.
*‘Still, I don’t feel tired at all when I’m with him.’*
I smiled secretly, already looking forward to the fourth exhibition. *Next time, I must ask Everett what he wants to do.*
I braced myself with a small resolve and made my way to the office.
“Good morning.”
I greeted my colleagues, but no one answered. The staff were huddled in small groups, whispering, oblivious to my arrival.
*‘The atmosphere feels ominous.’*
I stepped inside cautiously and caught the tail end of their conversation.
“No, you’re wrong. A wyvern’s head is better than a dragon’s tail. Why would the Crown Princess come to the Empire when she has a guaranteed throne?”
“I don’t know why. But that’s what I heard. That the Emperor and the Bellot Crown Princess are scheduled for a political marriage.”
“I heard the Emperor’s aides are already preparing for it. Could it really be true?”
I sighed in relief. It was just gossip about the Emperor’s wedding. I had worried some real disaster had erupted on a Monday morning.
*‘Please, don’t gather with such serious faces if you’re just going to talk about something so trivial.’*
In a workplace as bleak as ours, high-society gossip was rare, so they had naturally seized upon the news. I sat at my desk, thinking.
*‘Well, it was about time.’*
I counted the Emperor’s age. *Twenty-three?* Commoners usually married in their early twenties, and the Imperial family tended to marry even younger. By Imperial standards, he was long past the age for a union, though the war had forced a delay.
*‘The meeting with the female lead should be soon, too.’*
They were scheduled to meet at the New Year’s Festival ball in less than six months. In the original story, the two leads were drawn together by destiny and married within a year of meeting.
*‘So a political marriage is on the table.’*
But a marriage with the Crown Princess? Was this a secret detail I had missed?
*‘Wait a minute.’*
A spark of suspicion flared. *Is this actually something that was in the original story?* The novel was told entirely from the female lead’s perspective, so the male lead’s past was largely hidden.
*‘I don’t recall it, at least.’*
I bit my lip. Supporting characters in these types of stories always had marriage rumors mentioned, if only as dramatic seasoning. The fact that I had no memory of this unsettled me.
*‘Don’t tell me destiny has changed?’*
A chill ran down my spine. If the sunshine-like Saintess never appeared, there would be no one to reform the Emperor’s personality.
*‘If he marries the Crown Princess, it’s a perfect political match—and the Emperor will never change.’*
*Boom.*
I felt dark clouds gathering over my future in the palace.
*‘If the Saintess doesn’t appear, I’m handing in my resignation immediately.’*
The ‘Tyrant Emperor’ trope is only delicious when you’re watching it from a safe distance.