Chapter 60
If the Beginning Was Misaligned
“Your Majesty the Empress. His Majesty the Emperor has arrived.”
“…At this hour?”
Rasilia glanced at the ornate mantel clock above the fireplace.
It was an awkward time.
Too late for dinner, too early to sleep.
She had just returned to the palace and changed out of her outing clothes, waiting for Yvette.
She’d realized she knew far too little about the empire. She needed to learn everything she could about the first mate and the contract he had made. When she asked for related books, Yvette had eagerly run off to the imperial library.
She’d been so thrilled, claiming this was what she did best, that Rasilia couldn’t stop her.
She had planned to read the books once Yvette brought them, and then take a bath—but the emperor had come in between.
“Isn’t it too early?”
Rasilia shook her head with an awkward expression.
It truly was a difficult situation.
Not just the timing—the emperor himself had become increasingly hard to deal with.
“Your Majesty?”
His voice came again, uncertain, from beyond the door, as if uncomfortable with the silence.
She couldn’t very well kick him out.
“…Open the door.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Rasilia stood up to greet the emperor, running through possible excuses in her head to send him away.
‘The Blue Moon has already passed…’
There was no longer any reason to spend the night together.
‘But I can’t keep using the memory loss excuse either…’
Pretending to be the empress had made the lie convenient. It had been the perfect cover to smooth over everything.
But now her relationship with the emperor had shifted. He seemed to suspect she wasn’t really Empress Carthagena, and she herself might very well be the true mate.
And the emperor was a man who always found and exploited weaknesses. He might already have a reason prepared that she wouldn’t be able to refute.
‘Then what do I say? That I’m still not comfortable with him?’
Would that even be true?
Was he really still a stranger to her?
It was strange, if she thought about it. The emperor didn’t even know her name—who she really was. And yet, he was treating her like his true mate.
‘Is fate really that powerful? Powerful enough that names don’t matter?’
Lost in her thoughts, Rasilia didn’t notice him approaching.
“May I ask what you’re thinking about?”
“…You’re here.”
She nearly yelped in surprise.
As Rescal leaned in close, Rasilia instinctively pulled her shoulder back, trying to read his expression.
“I was waiting for Lady Shuraiden. I asked her to fetch me a book.”
“And?”
“That’s all.”
“I don’t think so.”
Rescal had an annoyingly sharp intuition.
Rasilia changed the subject and offered him a seat.
“Please, sit. You finished work early today?”
“Not really.”
Rescal ignored the seat across from her and sat down right next to her.
He’d done this before, several times in fact, but today it was particularly difficult for Rasilia to handle.
‘Because I’m starting to think it might be real.’
That meant she might fall in love with him—inevitably, eventually.
Talk of mates and fated bonds had always felt like someone else’s story. But now, it was her own.
Even the faintest breath felt amplified.
“I’ll move over.”
She couldn’t endure it and moved to the seat across from him.
Rescal opened his mouth, his face full of unspoken thoughts.
“…Do you really have to?”
“Yes.”
The answer didn’t come easily.
Before, she could’ve brushed him off with a blank face and a casual lie.
But not now.
“Why…?”
“Because our relationship has changed.”
“Why?”
His disbelief made no sense to Rasilia.
“Hasn’t it?”
If a person changed, so too should the relationship.
‘Was Sir Horced wrong? Has the emperor never truly considered that I might be someone else?’
As it turned out, the one who was mistaken was Rasilia.
Rescal hadn’t changed at all since the true mate inexplicably became the empress.
“Is it because of the young marquess?”
And so Rescal drew the wrong conclusion.
Rasilia’s expression tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“You won’t sit with me now. Before, you let me.”
“I didn’t let you. You just… Never mind. What do you mean because of the marquess?”
“I said I’d forget, but that doesn’t mean I actually have.”
“…”
Her thoughts tangled.
‘Wait… If he thought I was someone else, he’d know I couldn’t have feelings for the marquess. So does that mean he doesn’t think I’m someone else?’
But it didn’t make sense for Deckan to lie. There was nothing for him to gain from it.
“Who do you think I am, Your Majesty?”
Rasilia decided to ask directly.
“My mate.”
The answer came without hesitation—without doubt.
“That creates a contradiction. If I’m truly your mate, then there shouldn’t even be a possibility of having feelings for someone else.”
“I’m aware of that. But you’re the one who said you might have feelings for the marquess. Your words weigh heavily on me.”
“…Ah.”
“And besides, we started off wrong.”
Rescal furrowed his brow.
“I thought someone else was my mate. And you didn’t even know you were mine. In such a situation, it’s possible—maybe even natural—that someone might develop feelings for another.”
When he paused, Rasilia thought she heard the faintest sound of regret.
Then he looked at her again.
And Rasilia thought—those brilliant golden eyes had never looked so desperate.
“But you promised to forget the marquess. And if you’re truly my mate, you said you wouldn’t seek a divorce.”
“…Yes. I did.”
“Then I can endure it. At least for now.”
Rescal leaned back on the sofa and covered his face with one hand. A soft sigh escaped through his fingers.
“Just don’t kick me out. I won’t sit beside you if you don’t want me to.”
“….”
That was the problem.
She could handle a brazen emperor who lied and pushed his way through.
But when he slumped his shoulders and sighed like this—just because she wouldn’t let him sit beside her—it made her heart ache.
Fidgeting with the lace on her sleeve, Rasilia finally spoke.
“…You may sit beside me. If you want.”
“…? …!”
Rescal jumped up.
It looked like he might leap over the center table, so Rasilia quickly raised her hand.
“But first, I need to confirm something.”
“Anything.”
Rescal didn’t jump the table—instead, he pushed it aside in one swift motion.
Rasilia glanced briefly at the table, now shoved against the sofa arm, then met his eyes.
She felt a new tension in the air.
But this was something she couldn’t avoid.
Looking him straight in the eye, she repeated the question.
“Your Majesty… Who do you think I am?”
✦✦✦
“You’re not looking for the same answer again, are you?”
Fortunately, Rescal understood the reason she had asked again.
“To me, saying you are my mate should be enough. But… do you need more?”
She did.
Rasilia had lived her whole life without understanding what it truly meant to be the Emperor’s mate.
If fate had suddenly bound them together, then she needed a reason. She needed conviction.
A reason it had to be her.
“How can you see me as your mate, when you don’t even know who I really am?”
“…You’re saying you’re not Carthagena, aren’t you.”
Rasilia said nothing, only met his gaze.
Rescal didn’t blink. He stared as though trying to read the answer in her soul.
“I’ve known Carthagena since birth. She bore the mate’s mark. I never once thought of another woman. I never needed to. It was only natural for her to become empress.”
He gave a bitter smile.
“But I also never really thought about Carthagena. Never needed her either.”
“That means…”
“That she was no different from any other woman—mark or not.”
His smile vanished.
In its place was a seriousness so intense, it was frightening.
“That’s why I know you’re not Carthagena. You’re someone completely different. You’re my mate.”
“…”
Rasilia inhaled softly.
He had said the words she needed to hear most.
“So… can I sit beside you now?”
Rescal reached out and took her hand.
Just as Rasilia could read his expressionless face, he could sense her tiniest reactions.
He threaded his fingers between hers and spoke like a whisper.
“Let me sit beside you. By your side.”
“….”
It was difficult to refuse.
Even harder after hearing all that.
Rasilia gently closed her eyes and nodded.
In a heartbeat, Rescal was at her side.
He made no attempt to hide the emotions stirring in his golden eyes. Turning toward her with their fingers still intertwined, he brought her hand to his lips.
He kissed her knuckles, his gaze locked on the spot where their skin met.
His expression was so blatant—even Rasilia, with no experience in such intimacy, couldn’t pretend to ignore it.
“…Aren’t you curious who I really am?”
She tried to steer the conversation away.
“Am I allowed to be?”
“If I were you, I’d be curious. If someone beside me suddenly changed one day.”
“I assume you have your reasons for not telling me.”
He kissed beneath her fingernail.
Why there, of all places?
She wondered if it meant he cherished even the smallest parts of her—like her fingernails.
“What if I told you… I have a reason I must return to Delarta?”
“…Ah.”
The kiss stopped.
Rescal’s expression shifted dramatically, and he gripped her hand tightly.
“Then… it wasn’t the young marquess. It’s someone in Delarta?”
