CHAPTER~10
Words that are Conveyed without Speaking
― I’m sorry.
I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t trying to ignore you. The words I wanted to add shattered and vanished in my throat. Even if I had wanted to offer a more proper apology, Airi that day didn’t have the ability to speak any more advanced Hystanian.
― I’m really sorry.
As she left her final apology on his palm, feeling dejected, a shadow fell over her hand.
“So that’s how it was.”
Feeling the large hand covering the back of her own, Airi looked up, dazed.
“I acted rudely without understanding your situation.”
There was no change in his expression, yet Airi noticed a subtle softening in his voice. Holding her hand as if to stop her apology, he said,
“Would you grant this foolish man a chance to make amends?”
She understood that he had accepted her apology, but had no idea what he intended to do. Just then, the hand they had been awkwardly holding was lifted, and his lips touched her fingertips.
Airi, who had been staring blankly at the Emperor bowing before her, only regained awareness when she heard the clinking sound nearby.
Somehow, there stood the Admiral, alongside N, holding the apple wine with a startled expression.
Yet, as if the broken glass at her feet or the gazes of the nobles didn’t exist, the Emperor did not take his eyes off her.
“I hope that this night, begun by a misunderstanding, will not be our end.”
The words, rising along the back of her hand, tickled gently.
That night, when countless young ladies had come to the banquet to become the bride of the returning hero-Emperor,
even in front of the line of prospective brides, he, who had seemed indifferent, kissed her hand openly. Airi realized the meaning of this as she felt the gazes pouring down on them the moment they stepped out onto the terrace.
Thus, Airi became the Emperor’s public bride.
After the banquet ended and the other young ladies had left, Airi did not leave the palace. From early morning, maids came to her room to care for her with utmost diligence, helping her with her clumsy Hystanian and etiquette studies.
Studying was enjoyable but difficult. Unlike the words she had learned since childhood, which she could grasp through expressions and atmosphere, her writing skills, for which there was no proper way to practice, inevitably progressed slowly.
“No matter how much you practice writing, you still wrote ‘new anus’ instead of ‘new year,’ año nuevo.”
“Dona!”
“I was that frustrated, Carla. Princess, even if you write the same letters a hundred times, if you cannot understand and use them, what good is it? You must use your head.”
The maids were quite exasperated with Airi, who confused similar letters. Her stubbornness, refusing to put down the pen until her hand swelled, only made things more difficult for them, and she had heard this scolding countless times. Since she couldn’t speak, writing was the only way she could practice.
― This is meaningless, Princess.
Hearing the same kind of criticism repeatedly, like the words she had always heard from N under the sea, must have been frustrating even for her.
Even after the maids left, Airi remained at her desk for a long time studying. In the evenings, it became frequent that she would encounter the Emperor, who had come after finishing his daily work.
He would stand behind her, a small lantern lit, while she concentrated on her writing, and she would transcribe the words she had learned into her notebook, trying to communicate.
Even for simple sentences, it took her time, yet he patiently responded, carefully writing and engaging with her.
It was truly remarkable.
The Hystanian she had struggled to learn with the maids became, for some reason, a bridge to communicate with him. What had been difficult study turned into a joyful game simply because they did it together.
By the time she could convey roughly what she wanted to say, even if not perfectly,
― How long have you been there?
Airi, who had been diligently copying pages of frequently mistaken greetings, realized he had silently approached behind her. She thought he might at least say he had arrived, and feeling guilty, she fidgeted with her pen, when his hand landed lightly on the back of hers like a feather.
― I thought you were focused.
The scratch of the quill tickled her ears. Because he had bent slightly while writing, it felt as if she had been drawn into his embrace.
The rustle over her shoulders made her ears warm, her neck stiffen, and tightened her grip on the pen.
Ah, I understand now.
Why it felt so easy to write in the Imperial language to him.
He had silently watched over her as she wrote meaningless sentences over and over. Yet, he fiddled with the knuckles hardened by pen marks without complaint. He was unlike anyone who had taught her before.
― If you’re tired, you may go to sleep.
― I am not tired.
― You have far more important matters than watching me study. You must be busy.
― These are only the things I always do. No need to worry. And—
It was always like this.
― Nothing is more important to me than being with you.
Though he had never formally proposed, he behaved as if he were already her husband. Despite only a few brushes of the fingertips since they began living together months ago, Airi was treated as Empress for that reason.
Without a moment’s chance to feel insecure in this foreign palace, he came daily to stay by her side. Yet he never reached to touch her recklessly.
A distance that was close enough to touch, yet fully untangled. She instinctively understood this was how he respected her, even without him ever saying it aloud.
Watching the way he wrote, she could tell.
Every response, perfectly written in grammar and handwriting, was delayed just enough because he carefully chose his words. Even though he could answer verbally, he used writing to match her pace—every small gesture showed this.
The people who only saw his stiff expression could never know this.
He stayed in Airi’s room late every night to help her study. Even after long days of work, he showed no signs of fatigue or annoyance.
His silent gaze, always one step behind, watching. He never corrected her spelling or grammar mistakes, nor her worm-like handwriting. Quietly, like the scratching of a quill, he carried on countless nights of conversation.
― Michael.
Moments when she suddenly wanted to speak words buried deep in her heart.
― May I stay here with you?
There were countless times.
He looked up from the writing and met her gaze. Their faces close enough for her breath to reach him.
Seeing his fingertips fidget with the pen as he chose his words, Airi gently wrapped her neck around his arm. Her heart pounded as if it would burst. In the quiet night, it felt as if everything else had disappeared, leaving only the two of them.
Feeling him lower his head, she closed her eyes.
Looking back, she realized she had always been this brave thinking of him—the moment she had swum toward the boy drowning in the water.
Forgetting herself entirely, she had recklessly done the impossible, unaware of the fate approaching, like a moth flying toward the light.
Breath intertwined through their lips completely.
Even as her breathing grew heavy, she did not loosen her grip on his arm. His strong arms lifted her effortlessly.
Leaning against his broad shoulders, she strode with him to the bed, listening to her own heartbeat thumping loudly beneath her feet.
That night, with only the moments clinging to him, she felt as if she owned the whole world.
His lips nipped her earlobes, hot, as she kicked the sheet away with her feet, yet she held tightly onto the arms around his neck.
She could not let go.
The one who had approached her when she had tried to flee without revealing her name, who had looked her in the eyes, who had asked her name first, held her hand, and taught her for the first time how sweet apple wine could taste beneath the starry night sky—how could she ever let go?
Leaning close to his expressionless face, feeling his gaze, burning with a heat she had never seen before, and sensing the warmth, engraved like the scratches of a quill, coursing through her body.
How could she not dream? How could she not think that perhaps, just perhaps, this person truly loved her?
