TTEWD 04

Episode 4. A Slave Who Speaks Casually to His Master

At that moment, a pair of golden flames flickered in the darkness.

It was only after the man snatched the meat from Joan’s hand that I realized those were eyes.

His movements were ghostlike—formless, weightless.

“Before Her Majesty the Empress, you insolent creature!”

Joan scolded him, but no reply came.

Not even the sound of chewing could be heard. It felt like being possessed by something unreal.

But those golden eyes, shining like heated iron, were enough to leave a strange ripple in my chest.

“You call him a ‘black bug’ too?”

“There’s no other title for him…”

“He is still a person. The title ‘black bug’ is forbidden.”

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

“You may leave now.”

“He’s a dangerous man of unknown origin!”

“If he meant harm, he would have taken my neck instead of that piece of meat.”

“But—!”

“I want to speak with him alone. I don’t know why I feel this way, but I hope you’ll understand.”

Sometimes sincerity worked better than commands.

Especially for a loyal subordinate like Joan.

After glancing around anxiously, Joan finally bowed her head.

—

Silence filled the space.

It was a familiar stillness, almost unbelievable that someone else was present.

“Were you hungry?”

I spoke into the darkness.

The man did not answer.

“Do you know why you are here?”

Still no response.

Could it be that he truly couldn’t speak?

Even though he was thoroughly ignoring the Empress’s questions, I didn’t feel offended.

It only felt awkward, like a hunter intruding into a beast’s den.

“I don’t know why I came to see you either.”

Silence again.

Any further conversation would only tire us both.

After all, he was a man born of coincidence and impulse.

“If I disturbed your time, I apologize. I’ll take my leave now.”

As I turned my wheelchair, a low voice cut through the darkness.

“Why did you come so late? Aren’t you my master?”

His tone was sharp and blunt.

*So he can speak? Then why didn’t he say anything until now?*

More than his casual speech, what surprised me was that he recognized me as his master.

“Come out. I have no intention of speaking to someone without a face.”

“My master is quite impatient.”

He stepped out of the darkness.

I held my breath as I looked at the man—his excellent physique, bronze skin, and jet-black hair.

The features I hadn’t been able to properly see in the arena now captured my gaze.

*It’s not just his body that’s beautiful…!*

He was stunning enough to take my breath away.

Strong, defined features with no trace of softness, and a sharply sculpted jawline.

Even the noblemen adored by high society women would pale before his wild charm.

*Did I really spread rumors with a man like this? That we rolled in bed together?*

My cheeks flushed at the dizzying thought.

“Why are you just staring?”

He crossed his arms, looking bored.

Embarrassed that I had been staring blankly at his handsome face, I steadied my voice.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Of course.”

“Did you stay silent on purpose?”

“Yes.”

His casual tone felt natural.

Strangely, it didn’t bother me. I didn’t even feel like correcting his speech.

Perhaps it was because I was an Empress accustomed to being spoken to informally by the Emperor’s maid.

“Why did you do that?”

“You’re my master, and I only need to follow your orders.”

At times like this, he seemed like a trained slave—but it was strange how he showed no servility.

His relaxed expression, firm lips, and steady gaze…

I had met countless kings and nobles, but none as confident as this man.

“It seems your wounds have healed.”

I looked at him more seriously.

He shrugged as if it were nothing.

“I have a special constitution. They say I won’t die unless my head is cut off.”

If priests had seen him, they would have made a fuss about testing his divine power.

Of course, I had no intention of calling those talkative, money-hungry priests.

The continent was vast—there must be people who couldn’t be explained by reason.

Like me, who lost both legs in exchange for glimpsing the future. Like me, whose heart stopped and came back to life.

“My master sent a healer, didn’t you?”

“I heard it didn’t help you.”

“They wiped my body with strange-smelling cloth and told me to take bitter medicine.”

“Did it bother you?”

After thinking for a moment, he shook his head.

“No. It was interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“I’ve never been treated before. You’re the first to clean my blood and give me medicine.”

The words “master” and “first” flowed smoothly into my ears.

He knew how to form striking, well-ordered sentences.

*He sounds educated… so why doesn’t he know formal speech? Is he really a gladiator slave?*

“It wasn’t me, it was the healer.”

“The healer came because of your money. So you treated me.”

“Think what you like.”

“Healers are expensive. You must be rich.”

I looked into his curious golden eyes.

At times like this, he looked like a boy—like Dewey when he was young.

“Big sister! Let’s run away together. Let’s escape the empire!”

Dewey’s voice rang in my ears.

When I was twenty, war broke out with the Colonatus Empire.

Their war hero—the Crown Prince Ricardo Colonatus, the man with the golden mask—attacked my carriage.

I survived, but the family I cherished more than my own life was killed by my enemy.

*I thought I could finally come to you… I thought I would finally see you… yet I’m still alive…*

Loss and rage tightened around my throat again.

Whenever I looked at this man, I would be reminded of my brother who died in my place.

And each time, I would bleed tears inside.

Even knowing that, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

I even tolerated his insolent tone.

It made me seem like a disgraceful Empress, bewitched by a slave.

“Is it good if I’m rich?”

“If my master is rich, I’ll get to eat meat that isn’t rotten.”

“Have you often eaten spoiled food?”

“I don’t die from rotten meat.”

It seemed he had endured far more horrific conditions than what I had witnessed.

“The meat you gave me was very fatty and tender.”

He licked his lips with his red tongue.

Just recalling the taste of meat somehow looked dangerously sensual.

Joan’s words came to mind—that he wasn’t suited for menial labor.

Not because he couldn’t speak, but because of his striking appearance.

If a man like him carried water or chopped wood, the maids wouldn’t be able to focus.

“It was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Will you give me meat like that again?”

He looked at me with pure anticipation and joy.

His gently curved eyes, slightly smiling lips, and neat white teeth…

How could a grown man smile so brightly like a child?

A man who had been forced to fight in an arena simply because he couldn’t die.

My admiration soon turned into a bitter smile.

Sometimes, just noticing someone’s smile leads to trouble.

And when it combines with something abstract and useless like loneliness or beauty, it becomes even more dangerous.

Problems between men and women, between hearts—are usually like that.

I did not forget the lesson I learned through death.

*I will never again give myself to emotions. I won’t be shaken by anyone, won’t cry or laugh because of anyone.*

But there were still things I needed to confirm.

“What is your name?”

“Black bug. That’s what they call me since I don’t die.”

“What name did your parents give you?”

“I don’t have parents.”

“I don’t want to call you ‘black bug.’ Tell me your real name.”

“I told you, I don’t have one. How many times do you want me to repeat it?”

He glared at me with narrowed eyes, like a sulking child.

“How old are you?”

I meant to tell him to act his age, but his answer was absurd.

“Fourteen.”

“Fourteen?!”

My voice rose involuntarily.

He looked confused.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re fourteen, not twenty-four?”

“I told you. Are you making me repeat things as some kind of training? I hate that.”

He didn’t seem to be joking. Nor did it feel like a lie.

Regaining my composure, I changed the question.

“What year is it on the Westwing calendar?”

“668, obviously.”

This year was 680.

If he was telling the truth, he had lost twelve years of memories.

*A man with the vitality of a bug… and amnesia. Just what kind of man did I buy?*

—

“The Empress has changed.”

Clifford said.

Michelle nodded as she handed him a poorly brewed, bitter cup of tea.

“Stella isn’t a bad person… but she must’ve been influenced by that slave.”

Michelle pouted her plump red lips.

Even after all these years, she was the same as in childhood.

A low-ranking noble who would never have seen the imperial palace if not for being the nanny’s daughter.

She lacked manners and maturity, but Clifford liked her purity.

He liked how she was delighted by small gifts, and how she would pout then quickly smile again.

*Women should be cute like Shell. If they act arrogant like Stella, it kills affection. Though women as beautiful as her are rare.*

Stella possessed beauty worthy of being called the most beautiful in the empire.

Perfect features like a goddess, and translucent skin like milk.

Countless men praised her golden hair, as if spun from sunlight and moonlight.

There was a time Clifford was proud to call her his wife.

But Stella was no longer the same.

Her expression was cold like marble, and every word she spoke was laced with thorns.

Clifford knew she acted arrogant while secretly begging for his love.

So he ignored her even more, openly associating with lowly women.

After all, the Empress had taken all his authority and power—he felt he deserved at least that much.

“I have a cute slave waiting for me.”

And yet, he never expected her to take his suggestion of a lover seriously.

Veins bulged on the back of Clifford’s hand. Michelle gently patted his shoulder.

“That must hurt, Cliff.”

“Just wait. I’ll divorce Stella and make you Empress.”

“I don’t want a high position. I’m not smart enough to be someone as great as the Empress.”

“Then why did you reject me? The Emperor wants you.”

Clifford tightened his grip, making Michelle’s wrist redden.

With trembling lashes, she murmured:

“I don’t want to steal Stella’s husband. She’ll obviously be hurt… I feel too sorry.”

“Other women are desperate to become Empress. You’re too kind, Shell.”

“But I love you, Cliff. Don’t doubt that.”

“If I divorce Stella, you’ll accept me then?”

After hesitating, Michelle nodded faintly.

Clifford’s face brightened instantly.

“No matter what, I’ll divorce Stella.”

“What if she refuses?”

“Even as Empress, she can’t defy me.”

Michelle’s once innocent green eyes flashed strangely.

“Really? Stella cheated, and you didn’t say a word.”