TOPWL 129

The Emperor stroked his beard and asked Khalid,

“You’re nobility too. You could carry out an immediate execution. Why insist on asking me?”

He asked as if teasing, even though he knew full well the culprit wasn’t someone Khalid could execute. As expected, Khalid replied smoothly.

“Prince Yudit was injured while faithfully participating in a contest Your Majesty hosted. He is also Your Majesty’s son and holds a rightful claim to the throne. For that reason, I believe it is more appropriate that Your Majesty handle the matter rather than I.”

“A reasonable answer.”

“However, if Your Majesty has no wish to punish the one responsible, then please entrust the matter to me. I will take care of it myself.”

The implication was clear: if the Emperor did not deal out proper punishment, Khalid would. It was practically a threat, and yet a faint smile still lingered on the Emperor’s lips.

“What reason would I have not to punish someone who attempted to harm my son?”

“Your Majesty’s will resides in the highest realm. It is not for me to judge.”

Even as Khalid slipped out of the question like a snake, the Emperor said nothing more. Neither of them was ignorant of who the culprit was. They were simply pretending to wear a blindfold that could be removed with a flick of the hand.

“Very well. As you wish, I shall see to it myself.”

“Your Majesty’s grace is boundless as the sea.”

“Is that all you came for?”

The Emperor asked in a tone laced with meaning—he had sensed there was more. Khalid hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“There’s been unrest along the border recently.”

“Yes. From gnats to rather large pests, they’ve been stirring.”

“Once this competition concludes, I plan to return to my territory and devote myself to the defense of the Empire.”

“A wise decision.”

“Yes. I also intend to take Prince Yudit with me.”

At that, the Emperor showed a curious expression.

“You don’t even know what the next competition will be. Or… are you planning to forfeit it?”

“I came to ask Your Majesty just that.”

Khalid knelt before the Emperor and offered up a box.

“I earnestly beg that the third trial be one held within our lands.”

Even the chamberlain and the Emperor himself were taken aback. No one had expected Khalid to make such a direct request. His father, Opold, had been a man of unyielding integrity. He did not tolerate bribery or corruption. His wife, too, was meek and obedient, having raised her child in strict accordance with her husband’s ideals. And now, for their son to stand so boldly and offer a bribe—truly, one lived long to see such things.

Was it because his parents died young and left him with little guidance?

The Emperor looked Khalid over, head to toe, lost in thought. At the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder what Khalid had brought with him to be so confident. At last, unable to contain his curiosity, he gestured to the chamberlain. The chamberlain descended the steps and retrieved Khalid’s offering.

“…This is…”

The Emperor let out a low breath after opening the lid and seeing what lay within: the jewel known as the Siren’s Tear. A necklace centered around a sapphire the size of a child’s fist, ringed with smaller sapphires. Flawless, the deep blue stone alone was worthy of being declared a national treasure. And Khalid had brought it.

“This is the Siren’s Tear. My father gifted it to my mother when he proposed.”

“I see… so I finally lay eyes on it.”

The Emperor knew of the jewel well. His own mother had longed for it all her life.

The Siren’s Tear was steeped in legend.

A siren, known for luring sailors to their deaths, once encountered a man who resisted her enchantment. Enamored, she wasted away in despair. Her sisters, unable to watch her wither, each shed a single tear. From those tears, they crafted a gem, which the siren wore to approach the man once more. Miraculously, he drew near.

The siren seduced him, and they spent the night together—but the necklace broke by accident. Freed from its spell, the man fled, taking the necklace with him. He later gifted it to a local lord, who in turn gave it to his daughter as a wedding present. Though the marriage had been arranged, the daughter and her husband lived out a loving and peaceful life.

From then on, the legend grew: whoever possessed the necklace would live in lifelong harmony with their spouse. Everyone desired it.

The Emperor’s mother had coveted it as well. She asked the late Emperor for it as part of her bridal dowry. But the one who acquired it first was Duke Opold. He presented it to his wife, and on their wedding day, she wore it—becoming the happiest woman in the Empire.

The late Emperor could not, even with his authority, take a noble family’s wedding heirloom by force. Thus, he let it go, and the Empress Dowager fixated on it for the rest of her life. Every night, she would weep, holding the young Emperor, saying that had she possessed the necklace, the Emperor wouldn’t have strayed.

Having grown up with that mother, the Emperor had naturally come to wonder about the Siren’s Tear.

And so, the Siren’s Tear was finally before his eyes.

The Emperor sank into thought. The Empress Dowager was still alive—nearing eighty, living out her days convalescing in the warm southern lands, but alive nonetheless.

The Emperor harbored conflicting feelings. Part of him wished she would pass on soon, and yet another part did not. The Empress Dowager came from the same family as the Empress. Her will leaned heavily in their favor.

Though she had left the largest share to her son, the Emperor, both Reginald and Hiore were set to inherit considerable fortunes as well. As for Azil, he wasn’t left empty-handed—but what he’d receive was negligible, barely enough to cover a year’s living expenses.

The late Emperor had long since been laid to rest, but the Empress Dowager still obsessed over that necklace. If the Emperor were to bring this treasure to her in person, perhaps she might change her will. Perhaps she would take what was meant for Reginald and Hiore and bestow it instead upon Azil.

It was a tempting thought. The Emperor swallowed dryly without realizing it.

Khalid wasn’t asking to win the third trial. He had only come to request a change in its format. The Emperor had planned to assign each prince a knightly order and have them go to war. It would be an excellent opportunity to deal with the other princes—excluding Azil.

But Azil was still young, and sending him to the battlefield gave the Emperor pause. He had planned to assign strong escorts and send him to a safe front, but still—it was war. He had been mulling it over when Khalid made his request: to turn the third trial into a territorial contest. And he’d brought with him a gift that was nearly impossible to refuse.

As alluring as the offer was, the Emperor chose not to give an immediate answer. Instead, he gave a broad smile and decided to test Khalid a little further.

“That’s all?”

“……”

“There was a time my mother desired this necklace as well. But the one she wanted it from—my father—is long since dead. I myself have been married for over twenty years. Do you truly think this holds any meaning for me now?”

“Of course not. My offering is not for the Emperor of a nation, but for the husband Your Majesty is. Should my request be granted, it would no doubt leave Her Majesty the Empress feeling slighted. This is but a gift to soothe her heart.”

He spoke with unwavering certainty, as though it were obvious the Emperor would pass the necklace on to the Empress. The Emperor, pricked by guilt, gave a small, awkward cough.

Khalid reached into his robe and drew out a document. The chamberlain brought it forward and knelt before the Emperor. When he opened the scroll, the Emperor’s eyes widened.

“This is… the deed to Mine No. 4.”

The Ducal House owned vast lands in the North, and beneath that land lay great wealth. Among those riches, the greatest by far were the gem mines. Mine No. 4 was still producing sapphires and rubies in abundance—a site of astronomical value.

“You mean to transfer ownership of this mine to me entirely?”

“I do.”

“Why go to such lengths?”

“Because I love him.”

Khalid said it without a moment’s hesitation, full of confidence. At this, the Emperor could no longer view him the same way. Khalid—this man was utterly mad.

Instead of answering right away, the Emperor furrowed his brow and thought of Yudit. The boy had inherited beautiful features, yet they weren’t particularly unique. His eyes always seemed to carry fear, his mouth uncertain. For a son of the Imperial Bloodline, he seemed far too timid, far too meek.

Was that why, as an omega, he managed to seduce a duke? If so, that was an achievement worthy of recognition.

“Let me ask just one thing.”

“I will answer, Your Majesty.”

“Do you truly believe that child has the makings of an Emperor?”