CHAPTER~04
Disappeared like a bubble
— Can you promise that you won’t leave me, no matter what kind of person I am, no matter what I become?
Beneath the crooked handwriting was Michael’s neat, disciplined script.
— Even if the entire world turns its back on you, forever.
Airi knew now that making promises one cannot keep, laughing and chatting as if nothing matters, then forgetting it all whenever convenient—that was how humans lived.
Tracing the ink-dried letters with her fingertips, Airi slowly closed the notebook.
—
Late at night, the footsteps of Admiral Diego Garcia crossed the corridors of the Imperial Palace. Casting a sharp sideways glance at a few drowsy soldiers, the admiral stopped before the door to the study and raised his hand to knock.
Knock, knock.
“Your Majesty, it’s Diego.”
“Your Majesty, it’s Diego.”
“Come in.”
Even after opening the door and stepping inside, the admiral halted before the emperor’s desk, receiving not so much as a glance as the emperor remained absorbed in his work. In the admiral’s hands were documents he had just received from the chamberlain.
“I will deliver a report in place of the contents of the three cases handled according to your morning instructions. First, regarding the banquet seating arrangements—both families agreed to an adjustment of one lower row, and the Protocol Office handled it by revising only the on-site seating chart without issuing a separate notice.”
“Good.”
“As for the trade treaty with the Nueva Carta Autonomous Territory, it was announced with the exceptional approval justification you specified. The meeting schedule with the delegation has been adjusted to the morning of the final day of the banquet, and so far there has been no official backlash from the domestic merchants’ guild. In addition, the edict freezing prices on three essential goods in Toledo is set to be implemented in full immediately following the city council’s announcement, so we do not expect any significant unrest before the banquet. And…”
Throughout the lengthy report, the emperor kept his gaze fixed on the documents. The admiral withdrew his eyes from the handkerchief resting on the emperor’s desk and delivered the final report.
“There were no noticeable abnormalities regarding Her Majesty the Empress.”
The emperor, who had not stirred once, flicked his eyes up. The brief report seemed unsatisfactory.
“Truly, there were no major deviations from her usual routine. She ate at regular hours and retired to bed on time. And…”
What else should I add? The admiral hesitated, then belatedly parted his lips.
“She has been embroidering continuously.”
The pen moving across the paper came to a halt, and silence settled over the room.
His hand, which had shown no reaction to any report, suddenly stopped—so unlike him that the admiral swallowed dryly.
Had the report displeased him? The admiral waited tensely, but the emperor said nothing. Only after he dipped the pen nib into the inkwell again did the admiral silently exhale in relief.
Was it the ink?
Not wishing to further exhaust his already overworked sovereign, the admiral refrained from adding that the light in the empress’s chambers had remained on all night.
“I understand. You may go.”
Waiting until the emperor pressed a red seal onto the envelope, the admiral gathered the correspondence and took his leave.
Thud.
The door closed, and in the quiet room, the rustle of turning papers rang busily.
It was not that the emperor had no moments to catch his breath, but he had long grown accustomed to such a life. By setting aside what mattered less and dealing first with what lay immediately before him, everything fell into order without being swayed by trivial emotions.
Work, at least, never betrayed him. One could say that duty alone was the thing that fortified the emperor’s life—a life that trusted neither love nor people.
Since a new sea route had been opened to replace the Mediterranean trade routes blocked by the appearance of the Siren clan, the empire had entered an age of upheaval.
As emperor, there were countless matters demanding his attention: lands across the sea where friction remained frequent, a citizen council in uproar over soaring prices, nobles constantly poking their heads out to seek profit, and neighboring nations beginning to check Histania’s monopolized routes…
Amid the flood of work, he steadily maintained his balance. On nights when he collapsed into bed after finishing the onslaught of duties, he even felt as though everything had returned to how it once was.
That was the life of an emperor by nature—parched without a trace of moisture, and thus complete, without the slightest wavering.
Snap.
At the end of a sentence pressed down with force, the quill broke. He had written roughly halfway through a personal letter to be sent to a foreign ally across the sea.
Crumpling the stained paper, the emperor removed his leather gloves. Black ink smeared his hand.
His hand, which had reflexively reached toward the handkerchief on the desk, stopped midair. For a long moment, his gaze lingered on the gold-embroidered letters.
Every year, as the hunting festival approached, his wife would bring him a handkerchief she had personally embroidered with his name. No matter how many times he told her he no longer needed it, she never listened—not once, not twice.
“She has been embroidering continuously.”
After finishing the letter he had been writing, he leaned back against the chair. Beneath the hand covering his eyes, exhaustion was clearly etched into his face.
Since he stopped visiting her chambers, Michael had rarely lain down to sleep.
Whenever he dozed off in the chair, he invariably dreamed of the sea.
A dream from boyhood, of a day spent aboard a ship, when pale waves filled the horizon.
The stench of burning gunpowder and screams, people collapsing one by one as the ship tilted—at the moment he fired toward the Siren whose voice screeched like an iron spike scraping inside his ears, rifle braced against the railing—
At the muzzle’s end, he saw his wife turn to look at him.
Creak.
The emperor opened his eyes and sat upright at the desk. Pulling gloves back over his ink-stained hands, he gathered his work with a rustle.
Until a dim light crept into the once-dark study, he never once touched the handkerchief on the desk.
—
Airi set down the thread and needle on the table. After staring briefly at the white cloth and letters held in her scarred hands, she turned her head toward the window.
The embroidery on the handkerchief was completed only as the banquet day drew near.
The birthday banquet of the empire’s sole remaining royal was practically an annual event, and around this time people celebrated for more than a week.
It was the night that marked the final day of the banquet, following the hunting festival that had concluded two days earlier.
Once Dona had also left her post, there was no one left in the palace to look after Airi. All the attendants had been called to the Imperial Palace, short-handed as it was, to prepare the banquet food. It was only natural they had no time to spare.
Not wanting to trouble anyone, Airi quietly began tidying the room by herself.
It had been three years since Airi first came to this detached palace.
Not long after she confessed all the truth to her husband, servants had arrived suddenly while he was away on campaign. They removed every glittering object from her room and relocated her quarters to a remote palace far from the Imperial Palace.
They said it was by order of His Majesty the Emperor.
Whispers began circulating among the servants, and within days those rumors reached the ears of the two maids who had attended Airi.
“…I did think it was strange. How could someone born and raised as a princess of a nation be unable to dance properly and be so clumsy with table manners?”
“…Carla.”
“But—but just say one word and I’ll believe you. Please, answer me.”
“……”
“…Your Majesty the Empress, you’re lying, right?”
The two maids who had trusted and followed Airi more than anyone asked with faces on the verge of tears. The sisters, Blanca and Carla, had lost a dearly beloved older brother to the Sirens in their childhood.
“That can’t be true, right? You just said all that casually, didn’t you?”
“Carla, stop it. You’re making Her Majesty uncomfortable.”
“Please say it’s not true. Just one word—that’s all it takes, and we’ll believe you…”
“I’m sorry. Carla is especially sensitive when it comes to Sirens…”
“……”
“Then, Your Majesty the Empress… why haven’t you said anything all this time?”
From the day she broke the magician’s warning—never show tears before humans—Airi began to receive punishment from the entire world.
“I—it’s just that… I…”
“I’m sorry…” she murmured weakly.
Pearl-like tears fell in drops from beneath her chin. When the sisters saw the jewels rolling across the floor, they both fell silent.
A chilling stillness swept through the room.
“…My goodness. It was true.”
Airi kept her head bowed, unable even to look up at Carla’s face as she murmured at last, her voice soaked in betrayal.
By the time pearls had pooled into the mattress where Airi’s hand clutched the sheets, the sisters had already left the room.
They never returned after leaving the palace that day, and Airi gradually began to notice the servants within the castle avoiding her. Though no one harmed her directly, she realized—only after repeatedly witnessing people scatter like wind whenever she appeared—that this, too, was a form of harassment.
The people of the castle feared angering the emperor above all else.
It was not strange that the position she had gained through his favor should collapse because of him. She could understand why servants who feared the emperor would react this way.
Each day, as she passed through the corridors, Airi averted her eyes from the glances and dispersing crowds and pondered.
What should I do?
If he truly no longer wants me… then what am I supposed to do now?
Why did he keep me by his side in the first place? What he wanted—what he wanted from me was…?
Crossing the long corridor, Airi suddenly recalled the sight of his back from the previous night. The sound of his footsteps as he rejected her plea to stay with her just for tonight and fled as if escaping.
Her steps stopped short.
Come to think of it, in the past, she had been held by him every night.
Whenever the heat subsided, he would rest his cheek against the bare skin near her heart and quietly listen to its sound. On sultry summer nights, they walked the garden hand in hand. Under the bright midday sun, they sat side by side as she helped him study the imperial language. They chatted softly about trivial futures they wished to share.
At some point, Michael stopped doing those things.
When did it begin?
The moment she realized that the change in his attitude began precisely from the day he suddenly left for campaign without warning—the very day she had confessed the truth to him—
Airi froze, as if caught in a trap.
As she recalled his gaze fleeing from her countless times, his footsteps fading down the corridor, the rows of hunting rifles lined up in his chamber and words he had once spoken casually came back to her.
Someday, when we drive all the Sirens away, we’ll be able to come play freely in the sea you love…
The whispered voice crumbled like grains of sand. A badly swallowed breath left her chest aching with cold.
The single wish he had harbored, the countless indifferent glances that brushed past her, the meaning behind that averted gaze—
She felt she was finally about to understand the truth she had been too afraid even to think of.
Whoosh.
Inside the lit fireplace, charred memories flickered blackly. As if to block the flames from her sight, Airi stacked fabrics neatly inside the wardrobe.
After taking out the last garment, she retrieved a small pouch from the bottom of the wardrobe.
Inside the small cloth pouch was a dagger in a black sheath.
Drawing it, Airi looked down at her own face reflected faintly along the sharp blade. The well-honed edge looked as though it would draw blood with the lightest touch.
—Airi, take this.
The first time she held this dagger was back when she was still meeting him without having won Michael’s heart.
After watching fireworks all night aboard a ship, Airi had stepped out onto the deck, where her second elder brother, Matthias, appeared before her.
Matthias, who had never once cut his hair and used to wear it long to his waist, now had it hacked short and blunt, as if gnawed by rats. When Airi asked what had happened, Matthias said he had found a way for her to return, and held out the dagger.
—If you stab the prince’s heart with this, you won’t turn into sea foam. You’ll be able to return to the sea.
Matthias, who never trusted humans, worried himself sick over Airi, who loved a human prince. He even cut off all of the beautiful crimson hair inherited from their late mother and offered it as a sacrifice in his search for a way to save her.
Rather than being betrayed by love and disappearing into sea foam, he told her it would be better to kill the prince.
Yet in the end, Airi never once used the dagger her brother had brought at such cost.
Remembering his desperate face faintly reflected on the blade that day, Airi tightened her grip on the hilt. Then she pushed the dagger into the mass of hair she had gathered in her hand.
Thud.
Crimson strands fell messily to the floor like broken coral.
At that moment, someone appeared before her.
“Princess.”
It was Magician N.
“What do you think you’re doing right now?”
