BVIB 09

Chapter 9

“Yes, Your Highness,” the steward replied, his tone utterly flat.

“This is bullshit! It makes no sense!” Yuldian exploded. “I’m the victim here! Do you have any idea how many times she hit me? Why am I the one being confined while she walks free? She assaulted royalty! That’s treason—an attempt on a royal’s life!”

“These are His Majesty’s orders,” the steward replied, completely unbothered, not even blinking.

Grinding his teeth, Yuldian lunged forward, grabbing the steward by the collar.
“Don’t give me that crap! Go back and ask again! This is insane!”

“…Your Highness,” the steward said quietly.

Yuldian hesitated, then finally released his grip, scowling.

“I will relay your words to His Majesty. But for now, these are the orders you’ve been given. Please return to your residence.”

“…Damn it,” Yuldian muttered.

“His Majesty is a fair and just ruler. If you’re truly innocent, I’m sure the matter will be resolved quickly.”

“Fair and just, my ass! As if anyone doesn’t know he only cares about my brother and that half-breed bastard!” Yuldian snarled, shooting a glare at Roselyn before turning on his heel and storming off.

“I’ll escort you now, my lady,” the steward said, bowing politely.

“I—I’ll come with you, Lady Roselyn!” Arma called out, worry etched on his face.

“No. Go see a physician first. I’d be embarrassed if my fiancé went around looking like that,” Roselyn said, her words unusually cold as she turned away.

“Please lead the way,” she told the steward.

“Of course, my lady.”

Without looking back, Roselyn followed the steward, leaving Arma behind.

The place she arrived at was a grand, opulent office.

Bathed in gold from floor to ceiling, the room looked less like a workspace and more like a treasure vault, overflowing with rare and precious things. On one side was an impressive collection of gemstones; on the other, the stuffed forms of exotic, endangered animals.

But what truly drew the eye was the man seated on the sofa in the center of the room.

Once, his hair must have gleamed with golden brilliance, but now it was faded, verging on brown. His eyes were a cool, piercing blue, almost the color of the sky. Despite being nearly fifty, he bore little sign of age aside from the lines on his face.

His hair was tousled, and his clothes—though clearly expensive—were worn so casually, he looked more like a back-alley gambler than the proud, noble emperor he was supposed to be. If not for the quality of his attire, no one would have guessed his true status.

He was a man who always wore a smile, making it impossible to read his true feelings. In a way, he was even more inscrutable than Gueran.

Standing before the master of the Empire, Roselyn offered a respectful greeting.

“I greet the radiant and noble sun,” she said.

The emperor gave her a wry smile. “A grand greeting, coming from a young lady who’s caused quite a stir in the palace where that radiant sun resides. Don’t you think it’s a tad inappropriate?”

It was a refined way of telling her not to act so innocent after making a scene.

Roselyn simply smiled, saying nothing, her expression bright and unreadable.

She watched the emperor as he stroked his chin, studying her with a look full of unspoken meaning, before giving a small nod.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was light and somewhat indifferent.

“Well, have a seat,” the emperor said curtly.

Without protest, Roselyn sat down on the sofa opposite him, exactly where he indicated.

“Lady Bellion, you seem rather different these days—or is it just my imagination?” The emperor looked her up and down before sipping his tea, casually sharing his impression.

“I’ve been through quite a lot lately,” Roselyn replied.

“Ah, yes. I heard about it. It’s quite unfortunate news,” he said, his expression devoid of sympathy.

“So then—” Setting down his teacup, the emperor fixed her with a keen gaze. “What was going through your mind, I wonder? The ever-cautious, safety-obsessed Lady Bellion suddenly causing such a commotion… I’m curious.”

Roselyn easily translated his flowery, aristocratic language for what it was: What the hell was that about? You’re supposed to be indecisive and timid—what changed?

She answered plainly. “I want to break off my engagement to the third prince.”

Roselyn lifted the teacup the steward had just served, her tone impossibly calm.

For a brief moment, the emperor appeared genuinely confused and let out a startled, awkward laugh. “…What did you say?”

“I wish to annul my engagement to the third prince, Your Majesty,” she repeated slowly, enunciating every word.

The emperor kept smiling, but his voice turned gentle—almost patronizing. “I heard you suffered quite a shock recently. Did you hit your head, perhaps? Shall I send for the royal physician to have you examined?”

Roselyn met his gaze, her smile cool and unwavering.

“In exchange, I’ll solve two of the problems that have been giving Your Majesty headaches,” Roselyn said evenly.

“Two of my headaches?” The emperor arched an eyebrow, his expression bordering on disbelief.

Roselyn didn’t flinch. She simply nodded. “Yes. I’ll handle the negotiations with Kaluta, up north at the border, and also resolve the recent string of disappearances happening all over the Empire.”

At her nonchalant offer, the emperor—who’d been entirely uninterested until now—narrowed his eyes.

For a moment, he just watched her, a flicker of surprise passing through his gaze before a slow, meaningful smile curved his lips.

Both the Kaluta negotiations and the widening disappearance cases were precisely what had been plaguing his thoughts. The only ones in the know were his closest advisors; he’d kept a tight lid on the information to prevent unnecessary panic across the court.

How does a frail noblewoman, who’s barely left her room, know about this? he wondered. She looked pale and fragile—hardly the picture of health—but her eyes were sharp, resolute.

Does she really seem shy and timid? The emperor thought, studying her. If you only look at her eyes, you’d believe she’s killed before. There’s no hesitation, only certainty. But there’s no arrogance, either.

He couldn’t dismiss it as nonsense. She had named, without hesitation, the very things that weighed most heavily on his mind.

“This is strange. The Roselyn Bellion I know isn’t like this at all,” he said at last, his voice edged with intrigue.

Roselyn gave a small, wry smile. “When you’ve come close to dying, Your Majesty, there isn’t much left to be afraid of. Death is the greatest fear most people ever face.”

She’d endured a week of brutal torture. After that, there was nothing left that could truly frighten her.

Outwardly, the emperor seemed almost carefree.

His face was striking—nearly mesmerizing—but his tone was light, almost flippant. With his arms crossed and one leg bouncing idly, he looked more like a playful nobleman than a ruler. There was little evidence of dignity or authority in his posture, and his perpetually smiling face betrayed no hint of caution or seriousness.

If one only looked at his expression, it seemed as if he took all of this lightly, as if none of it truly mattered to him.

But Roselyn knew the truth behind that smile.

This was not a man to be underestimated. That carefree appearance was just a mask—beneath it lurked a ruthless nature, someone who could cut down a person without a flicker of emotion, all while grinning.

He cared nothing for breaches of royal decorum or the misdeeds of his own children. He simply watched, a silent observer of his empire’s chaos.

For a long time, many had referred to him as the “Clown Emperor,” dismissing his lack of gravitas and his seemingly harmless antics.

But Roselyn remembered what came next.

A year later, the so-called clown revealed his true nature. Suddenly, investigators were dispatched to every noble household, with no exceptions—not even the great ducal families.

Those who had always scoffed at the emperor stormed into the palace to protest. The emperor met them with the same smiling face, nodding along as though he understood, even beckoning the most vocal complainers closer.

And then, just as cheerfully as ever, he had their heads cut off.

That purge lasted three months, and it became infamous: one third of the nobility died, another third lost most of their fortunes. Even the Bellion family was not spared, as both main and branch lines were thoroughly investigated. Anyone deemed worthless or corrupt was cut away, discarded without mercy.

It was during that purge that the duke’s second son died—his reputation as a notorious troublemaker sealing his fate. Yet, somehow, Roselyn, notorious in her own right, survived.

This emperor was mad.

He would read out a parent’s list of crimes in front of their heir, execute them then and there, and immediately grant the title to the grieving successor—all with that same unchanging, affable smile.

“Ha ha ha!”

At that moment, the emperor burst into booming laughter.