DMEC | Chapter 11

“No, Your Majesty! Your face!”

The emperor, having just returned to his bedroom from the Emperor’s Forest, was a complete mess.

His once-proud golden hair was matted with dirt and blood, and though his nose remained intact, the dried blood beneath it made it clear he had bled heavily.

His uniform—an ornate piece that had taken months to craft—was not only stained with blood, dirt, and dust, but had also been torn by something sharp, leaving the expensive fabric half-shredded.

“Your Majesty, are you alright?”

Without a word, the emperor stood still, staring at Arisana Mellie, who approached him. Slowly, he parted his lips and used his teeth to pull off the leather gloves he was wearing.

“I thought I issued a ban on Arisana Mellie’s entry? Why is she here?”

“Ah, well…”

The chamberlain stammered, but Arisana, tossing her curly black hair back, spoke up.

“I have the right to enter Your Majesty’s bedroom.”

“You? Why?”

The emperor muttered in a tone that suggested he truly didn’t understand.

Then, he removed the other glove. He—who hated revealing the forbidden magic circle engraved on his hand so much that he wore soft silk gloves even during intimate moments—tossed them onto the table with half-lidded eyes.

Seeing the grotesque scars on both the back and palm of his hand for the first time, Arisana flinched and clutched the hem of her skirt. The emperor chuckled at her unsurprising reaction and casually draped Alexander’s uniform over a chair.

Comfortably crossing his legs as he sat, the emperor reached for the golden liquor the chamberlain had placed on the table.

However, Arisana boldly snatched the glass and bottle from the chamberlain and said primly, “From now on, this is my job—so leave it to me. Understood?”

The chamberlain replied, “Lady Arisana, there is only one person in this country who can give me orders.”

That person was the emperor.

With a faint smile, the emperor looked at Arisana and leaned forward. She stood before him in a thin, lemon-colored chemise dress, a fleece draped over her shoulders.

When he extended his hand, she instinctively stepped back—startled once more by the burn scars etched into both sides of his hand. Then, forcing a smile, she said, “Your Majesty, I have very good news,” and tried to sit on his thigh.

But the emperor pushed her away and poured the drink himself. Holding the crystal glass filled with ice, he gave it a gentle swirl, the clinking of melting cubes softly echoing in the quiet room. Then, glancing at her, he said calmly:

“Are you here to announce you’re pregnant?”

Arisana was flustered. “Yes, I think I’m pregnant…”

“No, you’re not. You can’t be pregnant.”

He took a sip of the drink and grimaced. Though he had healed his nose with magic, the pain inside still lingered. After forcing down another sip, he looked at Arisana and spoke in a languid voice:

“As you know, I don’t have a heart.”

He said it firmly, then looked down.

“But I do have that. However, Arisana, you should have considered the consequences.”

The emperor gently stroked Arisana’s curly black hair and murmured, “The queen is still alive, and I can only impregnate the queen. So if you’re pregnant, it’s not my child. Our country practices monogamy. Even if I did impregnate you, the child wouldn’t be recognized as a legitimate heir. You understand that, don’t you?”

The emperor was a mage. He hadn’t just sacrificed his heart. Women like Arisana—who claimed to be pregnant after lying with him—appeared from time to time, but he always concluded the same:

“You can never be pregnant with my child.”

And very few knew the reason why. Rumor had it the emperor was like a seedless fruit.

“But you’re getting divorced soon! And after doing it so many times, how could I not be pregnant? I only have you, Your Majesty!” Arisana cried, defiant.

“There are only 28 days left until the divorce. The queen is still alive. But once it’s finalized, isn’t it natural for me—the one carrying your child—to become queen?”

The emperor took a sip of his drink and said playfully, “Who said I’m getting divorced?”

“…What?”

Arisana asked again.

“I’m not going to.”

With the intention of sending her away—at least for now—Joel made up an excuse. Then he slowly stood and loosened his belt. Setting the holy sword, Peridexion, beside the table, he swiftly removed his uniform jacket and draped it over the chair.

Even in a disheveled state—his dress shirt clinging with sweat, black uniform pants perfectly fitted, and knee-high boots laced tight—the emperor’s presence remained undiminished.

Arisana blushed, watching him with wide, light blue eyes. Reaching out a hand, she called softly, “Your Majesty…”

But the emperor didn’t take it.

He stared at her with a blank expression. As Arisana, flustered by the sudden change in Joel’s demeanor, slowly stepped back, the emperor spoke—his voice cold and emotionless.

“Out of consideration for our last moments together, I’ll call a carriage for you. Take it to the duke’s house. And don’t ever break my ban by entering my bedroom again. From now on.”

He pointed to the luxurious bed.

“This is where the queen and I will be. So leave, Arisana. It was fun while it lasted.”

As the emperor uttered his farewell, the door swung open on its own. A sudden gust of wind swept through the room, and Arisana was pushed out, crying, “Your Majesty!”

The door shut behind her.

Now alone—and finally free—he slumped into the chair and drained the rest of his drink.

“The drink is sweet today.”

“Did something happen, Your Majesty?”

Aaron, the chamberlain who had served him for many years, spoke carefully.

The emperor remained silent. He quietly sipped his drink, his gaze fixed on the Emperor’s Forest for a long time.

Noticing how often the emperor had been visiting the forest lately, the chamberlain asked cautiously, “Are you… forgiving the queen? I thought you would sentence her to ten years of punishment and exile her as a commoner—to starve her to death.”

Though it was Aaron’s personal opinion, it echoed the common belief among those who remembered the punishment given to Lute at the time.

The emperor had intended to erase Lute from the Imperial Palace entirely, to let him slowly wither away in isolation. Wasn’t it a miracle he’d survived under such harsh conditions?

The only thing people remembered were the jewel-like tears Lute had shed. And though they hadn’t drunk the potion of forgetfulness, they had still erased him from their minds.

The Imperial Palace was vast, and the Emperor’s Forest—spanning the north, east, and west—was enormous. In the north lay a lake, and not far from its shore stood the luxurious villa known as the Water Palace.

Though now little more than a prison for Lute Synthsis, the queen teetering on the edge of deposition, it had once served as a quiet retreat where the king could rest from the burdens of state affairs. In other words, it was luxurious—yet modest, given its intended purpose.

Therefore, those present could only think one thing: was there any other reason for the emperor to confine the young queen?

Moreover, the queen’s homeland was infamous for its cruelty—offering live humans as sacrifices to the basilisk and extorting tributes from the six remaining kingdoms.

Had Joel not sacrificed his own heart to form a contract with the unicorn, guardian of the middle realm, and obtained Peridexion, he would have been a king in name only.

Loue would have taken the throne with an arrogant smile, following behind Eliana.

Coming from such a nation, even the young queen carried a tainted reputation, and people slowly erased Lute from their memories.

The palace staff assigned to her offered only cast-off clothing once worn by maids, or fatty meat and bones—when Anna, the maid, and Melik, the knight, came and paid out of pocket.

Her treatment was worse than that of a sewer rat, but the chamberlain, having long forgotten her existence, no longer cared.

But after nine years and eleven months—nearly a decade—the queen’s name was suddenly spoken again. All the palace staff, including the chamberlain, were thrown into confusion.

And when the emperor’s wrath descended, those responsible for the Water Palace were imprisoned after hearing his roar:

“You maggots who gorge yourselves on blood tax and do no work! Die!”

In this situation, the chamberlain was cautious and sensitive, watching the emperor’s expression, but he seemed dazed.

“What? I did?”

The emperor was startled. Placing his hand on his chest, he asked the bewildered chamberlain once more, “I said that? When?”

“Ten years ago, Your Majesty… You said that, according to imperial law, a couple who hasn’t consummated their marriage for ten years can apply for a divorce in court. So you were waiting—for the child to grow up, to finally divorce. And instead of destroying Synthsis, you would make it a vassal state of our country… strip the family of their titles, turn them into commoners, and let them experience the misery of living in poverty, one by one…”

The chamberlain’s detailed and specific explanation made the emperor cover his mouth. Did I say that? But he couldn’t remember.