TOPWL 133

The Empress’s Palace was in an uproar. Things were breaking, and screams rang through the halls. Empress Katarina sat serenely in the greenhouse, sipping her tea. Her expression remained calm, as if she heard none of the chaos around her. Only the maids and attendants looked pale, dreading the disaster that was about to come.

Bang!

Someone kicked the door open. Such a rude intrusion into the Empress’s resting place was nothing short of treason. It was a crime that could easily be punished by death. The Empress furrowed her brows—something she seldom did. The intruder strode in boldly and stood before her, casting a shadow across her lashes.

“How insolent. To barge in like this without so much as a schedule.”

“Insolent, did you say?”

Prince Hiore raised his sheathed sword and swept it across the table, sending priceless porcelain crashing to the ground in a shrill, violent clatter.

“Your Highness!”

The attendants rushed over, fearing the Empress had been hurt in the commotion. But the Empress waved them off without batting an eye.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I simply thought, since my righteous fury is deemed insolent, I might as well behave that way.”

“I raised you the same as Reginald… What went wrong with you?”

The Empress looked coldly at her son. Hiore twisted his lips and responded,

“You should choose your words more carefully. You say ‘the same’? I’ve always been nothing more than an accessory to my brother.”

“I fed you the same food, gave you the same things. How could that be an accessory?”

“You never gave me the one thing that truly mattered!”

Hiore’s voice cracked with fury.

“If you give the same food and shelter to a bird raised to be eaten and one raised to be cherished, does that make it the same? One of them is still going to end up as someone’s meal!”

“Enough. Don’t raise your voice. I already have a headache as it is.”

The Empress’s tone turned sharp. Hiore clenched his teeth and glared at her.

“I gave equal love to both of you. Ask Reginald—he’ll tell you whether I ever showed favoritism.”

“I’m the one who was discriminated against. Why would I ask Reginald that?”

“Even so, it’s in the past! You’re an adult now—how long do you plan to keep clinging to your mother like a child?”

She raised her voice for the first time, berating Hiore.

“The past? Then what do you have to say about the fact that I’m being accused of a crime I didn’t even commit?”

Two hours earlier, Hiore had received a document from the chief chamberlain. It named him as the culprit behind the attack on Prince Yudit. Hiore had denied it, but the chamberlain claimed the evidence was solid and there were even witnesses.

Hiore had rushed to his chambers, only to turn pale when he checked the drawer—his seal was gone. The so-called evidence and witness testimonies were neatly compiled. All of it was fabricated.

The document also accused him of conspiring to remove the labor force—namely, the slum dwellers—from the capital and secretly putting them aboard ships, a charge far beyond Yudit’s capabilities alone. This was Reginald’s doing. And the Empress had to have tacitly approved. Hiore had long suspected her favoritism, but he hadn’t thought she’d go so far as to support framing him for a crime.

At the bottom of the document was a written statement: he would acknowledge all charges, forfeit thirty percent of his assets as compensation to Prince Yudit, and voluntarily withdraw from the competition.

Hiore had tried to reject it, but the chamberlain advised otherwise. Since Hiore was of royal blood, a public trial would bring disgrace to the throne. They were trying to settle the matter discreetly with a signed confession. If he refused, Prince Yudit’s camp could push for an open trial. Besides, the Emperor and Empress had already approved it.

Instead of signing, Hiore had slapped the chamberlain and stormed off to confront Reginald—but Reginald was absent from the palace, so Hiore had found the Empress first.

“If you’d behaved properly, none of this would’ve happened.”

“What does that mean, Mother? I’m being accused of something I didn’t do—why are you talking about my behavior?”

“Do you truly think you’re blameless?”

Her eyes were as sharp as blades. Every time she looked at him like that, Hiore felt a cold sting in his chest.

“Have you already forgotten your behavior during the opening match? You acted with needless cruelty and ruined the entire beginning.”

“It was a legitimate duel. And I already paid compensation.”

Hiore was indignant. Before the match began, all participants had signed a waiver acknowledging they would not hold anyone accountable for injury or death. Technically, he hadn’t needed to pay anything. Yet Hiore had assisted with the boy’s treatment and even given him enough money to live comfortably without ever becoming a knight. That should’ve been the end of it.

“The fact that you paid compensation proves you went too far.”

“Then what more should I have done?”

“The Emperor is a timid man.”

Hiore was rarely taken aback, but the Empress’s words made him glance around. The maids and attendants had already been dismissed by her. There was no one else in the greenhouse—only Katarina and Hiore.

“That’s why, after ascending the throne, His Majesty carried out a bloody purge for ten years.”

Katarina herself had been a target of that purge once. She had survived by choosing marriage over death.

“Because he never overlooks even the smallest threat, and handles everything with precision—that is how he’s remained on the throne. And you, in front of such a man, cut a boy’s wrist. His Majesty was with Azil at the time. It was more than enough for him to imagine you doing the same to Azil’s wrist… or even his neck.”

Hiore fell silent.

“It was His Majesty who decided to end the matter by punishing you instead of Reginald. He negotiated directly with Duke Khalid.”

Every word the Empress spoke made Hiore feel more and more isolated from the world. In the beautiful greenhouse, where butterflies flitted and birds chirped, Hiore felt as though he were suffocating alone inside a freezing mountain cabin.

“This is a warning from His Majesty. And because he knows this isn’t truly your fault, he’s chosen to let it end here.”

“So I’m supposed to thank His Majesty for punishing me for a crime I didn’t commit?”

“Why not?”

The Empress gently stroked his shoulder. Hiore flinched, like a man jolted awake from a dream.

“I’ve told you many times, haven’t I? The throne will be ours in the end. Reginald will be emperor. No matter how His Majesty struggles, we will be the ones who triumph.”

She embraced Hiore. Though it was the gesture of a mother holding her beloved son, Hiore’s body stiffened. He was a full head taller than the Empress, but when she held him like this, it felt as though he were being embraced by a towering giant.

“When that time comes, you’ll need to be by Reginald’s side. This is merely part of the process. Don’t get caught up in the details.”

“…Yes.”

“What a good boy, my son.”

The Empress patted his back approvingly and smiled as sweetly as if she might melt. Hiore recognized that smile. It was the conditional one—only ever shown when he buried his own desires and yielded everything to Reginald.

“I’ll return the seized property to you twofold. What kind of mother would I be if I couldn’t do that much for my son?”

Her honeyed words made Hiore squeeze his eyes shut. He felt like he was slowly sinking into a swamp with no end.

***

After watching the ships set sail, Yudit had been bedridden with fever since noon. His temperature had risen so high that he’d had to take medicine and rest in bed. This time, at least, sleep came willingly. Whenever he closed his eyes, he dreamed of District 3 in Bern.

In the dream, he was working in District 3. The slum dwellers, the villagers—everyone looked happy. That’s a relief. So it was all just a dream. But waking from those dreams always left him hollow. After enduring that hollow feeling three times, he finally opened his eyes to find Khalid right before him.

“Sleep a bit more.”

Khalid laid a damp cloth across Yudit’s forehead. Yudit shook his head.

“I’ve slept too much. My head hurts.”

“Can’t say I’m not a little jealous of that.”

At Khalid’s words, Yudit looked apologetic.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty.”

“Sorry… for causing all this.”

“I didn’t say it to get an apology either.”

Khalid gently wiped Yudit’s face with the cloth. Yudit sniffed the air, then made a strange face.

“Oh no—does it still smell that bad?”

“No. It’s gone now. Actually… it kind of smells nice.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

Khalid smiled and tucked Yudit’s hair behind his ear. Yudit’s face turned beet red. His heart began to race for no reason.

“What is it? Are you feeling worse?”

“It’s just… I knew you were handsome, but… I didn’t know you were this good-looking…”

“You really are running a fever.”

Is this just the fever? But it didn’t feel like it. Every time Yudit looked at Khalid, a strange ache curled in his lower belly, and his heartbeat quickened.

This feels… dangerous.

“…dit?”

He heard Khalid’s voice from far away—just as his vision tilted and he started to fall.

“Ah—!”

All the pheromones he had kept sealed away exploded outward in concentric waves. The scent pouring off Yudit’s body was so thick it could be smelled even from outside the room. Khalid’s expression hardened. He knew exactly what this meant.

It was Yudit’s first heat cycle.