Chapter 24
Half voluntarily, half by circumstance, Clöe found herself unexpectedly entering the emperor’s private chambers. The emperor, who had previously intimidated her by pointing out her weaknesses, surprisingly seemed to want a conversation. Come to think of it, Clöe realized she had never had a private conversation with the emperor before, and she gladly took a seat.
For the emperor, establishing a personal rapport with Clöe was essential—a last lifeline to help her divorce. Building a bond with him was a necessity.
They sat on the small terrace attached to the private chambers. Kun had prepared a wine of moderate strength and brought it out. The soft night breeze brushed their cheeks, carrying with it the deep scent of grass. The light atmosphere of a casual drink was infused with a unique, almost intoxicating mood.
“By the way, princess, why were you out at this hour?” Kun asked, a very primal question. Clöe pointed to the envelope she had been clutching all this time.
“I came to send a letter.”
“A letter in the middle of the night? It must be quite important, then.”
His tone sounded as if scolding her, as though to say it was dangerous to wander around for just one letter. Clöe honestly affirmed his observation.
“Yes. It was very important.”
“I see. If you leave it to me, I can have a servant deliver it in the morning.”
“…To Your Majesty?”
An unexpected offer of kindness. Normally, Clöe would have no choice but to accept the emperor’s assistance, but this time she hesitated. She wanted to send the letter as quickly as possible, so she would have entrusted it to anyone available. It would be better to give it to the emperor, someone she at least had an acquaintance with, than to an unknown palace servant.
Even knowing this, Clöe hesitated. She couldn’t quite bring herself to hand over the letter. It wasn’t out of fear of bothering the emperor—rather, it was a vague sense of unease. Something about it felt wrong, though she couldn’t say exactly what, and her instincts kept warning her repeatedly.
“It’s fine. I can ask the maid who helps me prepare in the morning.”
“Wasn’t it urgent, then? So that’s why you were wandering the streets at this hour.”
Clöe refused and forced a polite, awkward smile.
Then their glasses clinked. The clear sound of glass striking glass marked the celebration of their first toast. Clöe carefully sipped the wine. The sweet yet slightly bitter liquid quenched the dryness of her throat.
“Is it a letter I shouldn’t see?”
He seemed to divert the topic from the toast. Kun’s curiosity was relentless, almost predatory. His slightly tilted lips, his teasing tone, playful yet somehow heavy demeanor—it gave her a chill.
Come to think of it, her attempt to hide the letter must have seemed odd to him, as if she were conveying palace secrets elsewhere.
“I didn’t speak of anything else…”
“Did I offend you?”
“…Huh?”
Her tension eased slightly at Kun’s absurd question.
“…Not exactly offended, just… gossiping a little.”
She corrected herself immediately. She wasn’t pretending to be virtuous—she was honestly confessing, with a pure and almost amusing sincerity.
“Gossip, huh?” Kun repeated, amused. He found her determination to tell the truth before him genuinely refreshing.
“You seem upset. I thought you’d think well of me.”
“…Ah.”
Her face didn’t look upset at all. Instead, her attention seemed focused elsewhere. Clöe let out a short sigh and hurriedly drank from her glass. Her chest felt oddly heavy.
“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Please, go ahead.”
“How have you been lately?”
Behind the mask, the emperor’s gaze turned serious. The mischievous glint in his red eyes suddenly gave way to gravity.
Clöe, aware that Calis would not have shamelessly revealed the existence of his mistress to the emperor, kept her situation hidden.
“Not well,” she admitted, taking another sip. A bad habit she had whenever she felt uncomfortable. Kun followed her lead, raising his own glass. He watched her quietly. She looked uneasy, avoiding the topic as expected.
“Actually, I met a woman this evening,” he confessed. He decided to share what he had experienced that night. If he showed that he already knew Clöe’s situation, she would have less hesitation in revealing the truth.
“Her name was Helena, I think? She claimed to be under your family’s patronage.”
“…Ah.”
“I saw that she shared a room with the duke,” he added, looking at Clöe casually. She lowered her lashes halfway, hiding her eyes, and her slightly trembling head betrayed her unease.
“That woman seems to dislike you intensely. Though, which mistress wouldn’t?”
The emperor’s added comment helped Clöe understand the situation even without detailed explanation.
“Haha,” Clöe let out a sardonic laugh, the elegant sound filling the silent space. She turned to Kun.
“She’s truly remarkable,” Clöe said. It seemed she realized that Helena had tried to manipulate her into distrust. She gave a bad impression first, then wanted to make her an ally and turn Clöe into an enemy. Helena was beautiful and charming, yet extremely cunning.
“Your Majesty knows this already, but Helena isn’t under our patronage. They’re not benefactor and recipient—they’re lovers.”
Kun seemed aware of the relationship as well. Clöe decided it was better to reveal the truth outright than to deny it.
“She’s said to be the kingdom’s Cinderella… His first love. On our first wedding anniversary, the duke returned from the expedition with her,” Clöe explained. She didn’t need to go into great detail, yet her words spilled freely. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps she felt no need to maintain her nobility before a man at the very top of society, or perhaps she wanted even this Kun—sharing the same name as a close friend—to side with her.
The Clöe who had always protected her pride now revealed her weaknesses without hesitation. Once the ugly duckling of the duke’s household, she had become utterly sidelined after Helena’s arrival. Even her only protector, Jane, had left her.
“…That’s what happened,” Clöe concluded, reaching for her glass. But the wine she had been sipping was already gone.
Kun silently refilled her glass. Perhaps he thought she wanted a lot of wine. Before she could protest, the glass overflowed, soaking her hand with the sweet scent. Only then did Kun put the bottle down—but it slipped and fell to the floor.
Clang! The remaining wine and shards of glass scattered everywhere.
Clöe’s gaze shifted between the floor and Kun before finally settling on him.
“Ah…”
The man seemed lost in thought. Clöe couldn’t read his emotions entirely behind the mask, but she sensed that he was troubled.
“I…,” Kun finally spoke after a long pause. His voice, usually confident, had lost all composure.
“I… apologize.”
Apologize? If it were merely expressing regret over a sad story, it might make sense—but not this. Kun had no reason to apologize to her. The ones who should feel guilty were Calis and Helena, who had stolen happiness for themselves while eroding others’.
“Your Majesty has no reason to apologize. Why would you say that to me?” Clöe asked, puzzled.
Kun raised his voice in a pitiful tone.
“…My choice brought unhappiness to you.”
Unhappiness… he was referring to Clöe’s marriage with Calis, wasn’t he? The marriage that resulted from Calis ending the war for the country. Now Clöe finally understood his intention and waved her hands frantically. If her words had inadvertently blamed him, she needed to apologize sincerely. Otherwise, today’s incident could even escalate into conflict between nations.
“Thanks to Your Majesty’s proper choice, we are all at peace. It’s not your fault…”
“Even if I weren’t the duke, I would have ended this war,” Kun said. Clöe tried to defend him but fell silent.
The emperor, usually so confident, spoke suddenly and drastically, shattering what Clöe and the kingdom had believed for years:
“…The thing is—”
“….”
“What do you mean, Your Majesty?” Clöe, trying to stay calm despite the wine, asked again.
“I wanted to end the war from the beginning.”
But what came back wasn’t a correction, just an explanation, almost like an excuse.
“What I needed was not persuasion, but a single knight to convey my will.”
