DMEC | Chapter 9

After unexpectedly encountering Emperor Joel for the first time in nine years and eleven months since their marriage, Lute was bedridden for two days. The fever was so severe that he couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone chew or swallow anything.

Mentally shaken, he refused to eat, prompting Anna to make a bold decision. She gathered the potatoes they had harvested with Melik and left the palace. The potatoes Lute had lovingly grown had flourished, so she promised to sell them at the market outside the palace and buy some meat.

The problem was that the three of them were the only people from Synthsis in the palace, and Lute—who couldn’t leave—was practically a deposed queen.

Anna and Melik, though neither of them were the queen but merely a maid and a knight serving him, were allowed to leave the palace once a week.

Even so, they faced discrimination simply for being from Synthsis.

To be granted permission to go out and purchase necessities, they had to offer something in exchange. Since the palace didn’t provide them with supplies, they had no choice.

The potatoes were so plentiful and heavy that Melik carried them by hand while Anna balanced them on her head as they left the Water Palace.

Before departing, they repeatedly warned Lute not to leave the palace until they returned. Anna even prepared a bowl of goat milk soup—the best she could make for the ailing Lute.

The soup contained potatoes and a few greens. She had hoped to add some meat after selling the potatoes, but Lute couldn’t even manage a few bites.

Despite their warnings, once his fever subsided, Lute couldn’t bear the confinement any longer and left the Water Palace.

His feet, wounded and bleeding from branches, sharp stones, and dirt, throbbed with every step. Melik had once pleaded with the maid in charge of the Water Palace for proper footwear, but in the end, Anna had to sew together discarded leather shoes with thick thread for him.

His clothes consisted of a men’s dress shirt, but due to his frail frame from years of poor nutrition, it fit him like a chemise, slipping off his pink shoulders, exposing his collarbone, and hanging loosely down to his thighs. Since he was alone in the forest, he hadn’t bothered wearing pants.

Dressed only in old leather shoes, he limped painfully toward the lakeside, looking utterly pitiful and forlorn.

The wind carried a distinctive fishy scent—he was close to the lakeside. Lute brushed back his long black hair, now reaching his hips since Anna hadn’t trimmed it, and looked ahead.

Was it an illusion?

Lute blinked at the sight of a man standing on the opposite side of the lake, clad in the uniform of a knight commander, golden hair gleaming in the sunlight.

In the past, he had been a golden-haired boy, but now he was an incredibly handsome man—unmistakably Joel Ragnus.

Lute couldn’t hide his shock and instinctively clutched at the only clothing he wore—the dress shirt. He wasn’t even wearing underwear, and if the wind blew…

No, that’s not the problem. Why is Joel here?

Lute bit his lip, wanting to ask the very question burning in his mind.

What does it matter why he’s here?

With only twenty-eight days left until the divorce, what was he planning to do? It wasn’t as if he intended to rekindle their marriage, let alone love.

He’s forgotten me. Completely.

Thinking that, all the curiosity and interest Lute had toward Joel turned cold. The wide, expressive eyes that had momentarily revealed his surprise soon dulled, his face becoming as emotionless as a wax doll.

Joel’s golden eyebrows rose at the change in his expression.

Slowly, he walked toward the lake, his red lips parting as he spoke.

“What words should I use to greet you?”

Lute didn’t respond. Their connection had already been severed, and in just a few days, he would leave.

If he had anything to say, it would be:

“How much will you give me as a divorce settlement? You’ll at least give me a house and some land to farm potatoes, right? My dream is to become a potato magnate.”

But even that felt like too much effort.

So he simply looked at Joel in silence.

Joel, seeing Lute’s calm gaze, opened his red lips again. His eyes brimmed with amusement and intrigue, while Lute’s eyes dripped with sorrow.

“Ah, are you a fairy who doesn’t understand human speech?”

“…”

Lute half-opened his mouth in disbelief and let out a sigh.

A fairy? What nonsense.

Could it be that this isn’t Joel? The Joel he knew wasn’t—at the very least—a madman.

Unconsciously, Lute took a step back. At the same time, Joel’s pace quickened.

With his feet badly wounded, Lute couldn’t outrun Joel’s long strides. Just as Joel closed the distance, Lute was suddenly startled by golden hair and smiling emerald eyes appearing right in front of him.

Panicked, he tried to flee—back toward the Water Palace.

“Indeed, speaking the filthy language of humans…”

Joel’s breath blew softly.

“Your lips are too beautiful, fairy. I’m afraid they might get tainted by worldly words. The god who sent a fairy from the heavens to the human world might punish me.”

Lute began to feel confused. His bright blue eyes twitched wildly, as if to prove it.

Could it be that this isn’t the Joel I know? Could it be Alexander, the knight commander who resembles Joel? The Joel Lute remembered was handsome, tall, always carried him, whispered sweet words in his ear, and playfully said they should marry when he grew up.

He wasn’t a madman like this… Lute started to doubt if he was mistaken, if his memories were wrong after ten years.

“Fairy, let me introduce myself again.”

Joel, facing Lute, whose suspicion and wariness had grown, placed his right hand on his left shoulder, stepped back with one leg, and slowly bowed his head. It was a gesture of respect and honor.

At that moment, Lute’s doubt grew stronger, ‘Is it really not him?’

An emperor never bows, not even to the queen or the Pope. The emperor is like the sun. Too dazzling for the people to look at directly, and they could only gaze upon him with his permission.

Lute, with a face full of evident confusion, hesitated and stepped back. He feared that if he opened his mouth, he might accidentally ask, “Joel?” And if it wasn’t Joel…

What should I do then? At that moment, Lute suddenly stood up.

“Fairy? Fairy!”

But Joel was just as flustered. In truth, he had never intended to bow. He was Emperor Joel Ragnus—one who received respect and honor from all, never the one to give it.

Only once. When he had been dragged as a living tribute to the basilisk in Synthsis, he had bowed to Eliana, the emperor at the time. Other than that, Joel had always held his head high—the very embodiment of confidence.

The fact that he had respectfully placed his hand on his left shoulder and bowed just now was simply his body acting on its own. Realizing his mistake, Joel’s body froze, unable to straighten up.

But then—at the sound of a leaf crunching—Joel lifted his head.

The fairy, Lute, was running away.

His oversized dress shirt, loose like a chemise, fluttered as he bolted, and his ill-fitting leather shoes slipped off his feet as he ran with all his might.

At that moment, a cold, ominous light flashed in Joel’s eyes.

How dare you turn your back on me and run?

Without so much as a breath, Joel closed the distance and seized Lute’s wrist just as he tried to escape. Lute didn’t even cry out—he swallowed his breath as his arm was yanked upward, his wide eyes locking onto Joel’s. Tears welled up from the pain, and seeing this, Joel quickly let go of his wrist.

But before Lute could flee again, Joel effortlessly scooped him up, lifting him under his armpits.

One by one, Lute’s leather shoes tumbled to the ground.

Caught so easily, Lute went limp, his expression sulky as he stared at Joel. Meanwhile, Joel simply smiled—brightly.

“Got you, fairy.”

“…”

Lute pouted his lips—a habit that surfaced whenever he felt gloomy. Seeing the same expression from when Lute was a baby, Joel couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Lute’s mother, Eliana, would always scold him, saying, “Put your lips away! You’re a prince—how can you pout like a commoner?” And every time, Lute would cry out, “Aang,” after getting his lips smacked.

It was seventeen-year-old Joel who had comforted five-year-old Lute, who had wandered the palace, crying “Aang, aang.”

Just like back then, Joel lifted him up and held him tightly.

“Fairy, where were you planning to run off to?”

But it was subtly different from before. At five, Joel would have held him and patted his bottom. But now, nearing twenty-four, Joel lifted him and stared intently. Wanting to see the face hidden beneath the disheveled long hair, Joel leaned in. Lute turned his gaze away.

Not speaking, his movements awkward and wary… He’s definitely unaware that it’s me, right?

Joel hummed softly, and as he slowly slipped Lute’s foot into the fallen leather shoe, he took the opportunity to examine it closely. Wrapped in bandages from the sole to the ankle, Lute’s foot was soaked in blood, red seeping through the fabric.

Trying to run from me with these feet… He must have really been scared of me.