DMEC | Chapter 18

Alexander kept his mouth shut tight and stared intently into Joel’s eyes. Regret, despair, longing—and beneath those emotions lay another.

“Your Majesty, do you love Queen Lute?”

“What? Are you crazy? Didn’t you hear earlier?”

The Emperor let out a hollow laugh and sat on the bed, looking directly at Alexander. He slowly crossed his legs and ordered a maid to bring him a cigarette. Enjoying hand-rolled cigarettes, he quickly rolled one from the perfectly prepared tray, placed it in his mouth, and lit it with a flame conjured from his fingertips. Inhaling and exhaling the smoke lightly, he spoke.

“Could you love a child you raised?”

“But if we look at Your Majesty’s actions now, this is…!”

Alexander tried to speak with conviction, but Joel laughed cynically.

“Hey, Alex. It seems you’ve forgotten.”

He opened his bathrobe to show the middle of his chest. A clear scar ran from top to bottom, where his flesh had once been torn. Even as Alexander tried to protest, “Your Majesty, but—!” Joel grabbed his hand and placed it over the area where his heart should be.

“Can you feel it?”

There was no heartbeat where there should have been one. It was completely still. Alexander, feeling the eerie stillness again, wore a sad expression. Joel chuckled, letting smoke slip through his lips, and spoke in a soft voice.

“Do you think someone like me can feel love? The emotions I feel now are just echoes of past events, spoken in the past tense. What I’m doing now is just because…”

With the cigarette between his fingers, he looked at Alexander and spoke without hesitation.

“He’s beautiful. Would you let someone else see such a thing? Would you let others see the Emperor’s crown?”

Alexander, who had been silently listening to the Emperor, finally spoke.

“Your Majesty, you said it yourself, didn’t you? That you speak of emotions in the past tense, inferred from past events.”

“Yes.”

As the Emperor stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, Alexander left him with a meaningful remark.

“What if Your Majesty loved Queen Lute even before you had your heart removed? Not in a romantic sense, but as a human being.”

With his hand over his chest, Alexander wore a gentle smile.

“That’s love too.”

Alexander, speaking with emotion, looked at the Emperor with moist eyes, and Joel smiled.

“Alexander. Stop talking nonsense from the morning and take off your clothes.”

The chamberlain, unaware of the relationship between Alexander and Joel, turned pale.

.☘︎ ݁˖

On a fresh morning with 26 days left until the divorce, Melik returned with a weary face after finishing his business. Thanks to the bountiful potato harvest that he, Lute, and Anna had carefully nurtured, he had earned a decent sum and came back with plenty of meat and medicine.

Most importantly, he handed Lute the divorce papers. He had even written an example of how to fill them out and passed it to Lute before collapsing onto the shared first-floor bed to sleep.

Lute sat at the desk, relying on the incoming sunlight, and began filling out his personal information on the divorce papers.

Although he was destined to remain confined, Anna and Melik had been granted the right to go out once a week—unlike other palace residents—which allowed them to endure ten years by purchasing various necessities.

Lute turned his head to look out the window beside the desk. The Water Palace was a very narrow palace compared to the others, so he and Melik used the first floor, while Anna lived on the second, which had a slightly different structure. Lute had originally preferred the second floor for a simple reason.

From there, he could better see the lush potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, and various crops. My precious babies that I raised… Lute was filled with emotion, gazing lovingly at the green sprouts and flowers, completely immersed in his feelings.

Then, looking back at the divorce papers, his shoulders slumped. While he was happy about the divorce, he was worried about leaving those children behind.

How important it is to care for plants emotionally! He realized this when taking care of Snow, who had trembled in pain—how vital it was to tell them he loved them every morning and evening.

I love you, I love you, I love you…

Words that never grew old, words that kept the children alive. Lute constantly spoke them, and the crops—and Snow—seemed to understand his heart, growing robustly and fulfilling their roles.

When the plants were eaten by pests or fell ill with endemic diseases, Lute’s heart ached terribly. But when they drank water and fertilizer and grew lush and green, nothing made him happier.

In 26 days, I won’t be able to see this sight anymore… That field, that garden. He had asked Anna and Melik to take care of the things he had started growing ten years ago.

“My babies, even if you miss Dad….”

Muttering in melancholy while swinging his feet, Lute’s gaze landed on the tip of a light brown leather shoe. The pointed toe of the worn shoe, which he had worn for over six years, was sharp like a spear.

Fortunately, Lute’s feet were small for a man and larger than a woman’s, so the narrow front didn’t hurt. But if they had fit perfectly, they would have been extremely painful shoes.

Conversely, because they didn’t fit quite right, they slipped off easily—causing him to trip and injure his knees or palms whenever he walked in a hurry.

They were shoes he had to walk very carefully in. But in a fit of anger, he had thrown them at Alexander—the self-proclaimed knight commander—and his smug face… and lost them.

He regretted it.

I should’ve thrown them harder and smashed his nose.

“Hmm….”

But Lute was very fond of the perfectly fitting, round-toed leather shoes that seemed to know his feet well. When he was younger, he had been much sicker and bedridden more often than now, so he dressed as a girl until the age of ten—wearing flat shoes with round toes, like Loue’s.

Perhaps because of that, Lute found round-toed leather shoes much more comfortable and calming than pointed ones.

That was what familiarity was. Even in uncertain situations, familiar items could bring peace to a stormy heart—as if nothing had happened at all.

Lute placed his elbows on the windowsill, rested his face in his palms, and slowly closed his eyes, feeling the sunlight stream in as he muttered,

“I need someone to take care of the field… Since Joel won’t do it, I’ll have to ask Knight Commander Alexander.”

Living in the Water Palace with Anna and Melik, he found himself talking to himself more often. When he was younger, he always chattered to Joel.

“…Even though you called me a baby bird, a squirrel….”

Lute slowly opened his eyes to look out at the field and the surrounding forest, a hint of disappointment showing as he pouted his lips. Then, with a sigh, he tucked them inward. He had a habit of pouting whenever he was upset or sulking—something that often earned him a slap on the lips from his mother.

In contrast, Joel had found it cute and would give him a light peck on the lips. Lute’s eyes grew hazy with longing as he recalled those distant memories.

Joel had always been infinitely gentle, soft, and kind—so unlike his strict and stern mother. Instead of scolding or hitting him, Joel would place his hands under Lute’s armpits, lift him up, and kiss his pouting lips.

When Lute, startled, would cover his mouth with both hands and blush, demanding to know what he was doing, Joel would smile with his eyes and whisper—forehead to forehead.

‘Your lips look just like a chick’s.’

‘A chick?’

‘Yes. Or maybe a squirrel? Hmm, if I had to say, you’re more like a flying squirrel. You climb trees so well.’

Joel, emphasizing the word “so,” would mischievously smile at Lute. It seemed he was troubled by how Lute always ran off and climbed trees. Lute could never bring himself to say it was because he didn’t want the noblewomen—those enamored with the handsome Joel—to take him away as their errand boy.

Back then, he naturally thought Joel was his. He simply assumed he would marry Joel.

“It was all just a foolish dream… I didn’t even know it was a lie.”

He had only wanted to destroy Synthsis. Well, if I can’t forgive my own country, how much more must Joel and the others hate it?

The screams of the tributes, crying out not to be taken. The tears, begging for mercy. The resentful eyes staring at him…

“…Ah.”

In that moment, Lute realized. As the truth settled in, his bright blue eyes filled with tears. The eight years spent together in Synthsis had been a time of pain and fear—for Joel.

Joel, who had been a healthy host, never knowing when he might be summoned to bear eggs. Joel, who had to watch his people beaten to death by the royal family of Synthsis—too weak and powerless back then to do anything.

“Ah… ah…”

So that’s how it was, Joel. The time we spent together was so painful for you… that you forgot about me.

And I—without knowing that—resented you for not remembering me after ten years.