When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the overwhelming stench of medicine assaulting his nose.
“Ughhh……”
Luan scrunched up his face and forced his heavy eyelids open.
His head was foggy and his whole body ached, but perhaps because he had fallen asleep as though passing out — his mind felt considerably clearer than before.
The fog lingering in his head right now was almost certainly from this horrendous cocktail of smells.
Out of habit he moved to sit up, and then his mouth fell open at the sight before him.
“……What is all of this?”
He was fairly certain none of this had been here when he fell asleep.
Half of the bedroom — already absurdly large to begin with — was packed wall to wall with wooden crates, not an inch of floor space to spare.
Fine silk and gold-foil labels peeking out from the tops of the crates gave off an ominous impression, and judging by the sheer quantity, it looked as though someone had raided an entire warehouse.
“You’re awake.”
Kirian, who had been seated by the window reviewing documents, got up and came over.
Why is this man coming out of there again? Even if the door hadn’t been locked, barging all the way into the bedroom itself was a bit much, wasn’t it?
But there was something more pressing to ask about right now.
Luan pointed at the tower of crates with a blank expression.
“Your Majesty. Did the imperial palace run out of storage space without my knowledge and you’ve been stacking things in here?”
To that entirely reasonable question, Kirian gave an entirely matter-of-fact answer.
“Medicine.”
For you to take. That shameless expression.
Luan’s face went even blanker.
“Pardon?”
“For now, I had everything reputed to be good for the body brought in. Anything said to be beneficial for the lungs, blood vessels, and restoring vitality — swept the lot of it.”
……Why?
“There are things grown in the Elven Forest, and an elixir cultivated by the Tower Master himself. I was told there were remedies from the East said to be miracle tonics, so I had those prepared as well. There shouldn’t be anything missing.”
Kirian said it all without looking up from his documents, his tone offhand — yet there was a faint trace of self-satisfaction lingering at the edge of his voice.
In truth, after Luan had swayed as though about to collapse and brushed it off as anemia before falling asleep, Kirian had acted on impulse.
He had said one word — bring everything good for the body, cost be damned — and this was what had been assembled in a single day.
To Luan, of course, it looked like nothing so much as a mountainous pile of headaches.
“……Ha.”
Luan rubbed his face with both hands.
Far from being moved, he felt a stiff ache creeping up the back of his neck.
“Your Majesty. Did I not tell you yesterday? Don’t make a fuss.”
“This isn’t a fuss. It’s a precaution.”
Says the person who looks like he’s in serious condition. He certainly had no trouble talking back.
“You said it was anemia. That you hadn’t been eating properly. Then eat.”
“This isn’t a precaution. It’s a waste.”
Luan climbed out of bed and gave one of the crates stacked higher than his own head a light tap.
“Just one of these is more than a month’s worth of food costs for the soldiers.”
So? Kirian’s eyebrows went up.
“I went through all that trouble cutting the budget while taking flak for it, and now Your Majesty is squandering it like this — what does that make me?”
“Is a bit of money worth more than your body?”
“Of course it is. Money is national strength and it’s a track record.”
At Luan’s flat answer, Kirian’s eyebrow twitched again.
He didn’t like the attitude — treating his own wellbeing as nothing more than a tool in service of his duties as Empress.
“Who told you to work yourself into the ground like that?”
Kirian clicked his tongue.
Then he held out a drink of a truly alarming color — presumably medicine.
“Drink it. You’re not leaving this room until you finish it.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I know my own body best. Drinking something like this won’t make it better.”
Kirian pressed his lips together tightly.
That tone of resignation grated on him in a way he couldn’t quite place.
He thought of the droplets of blood falling one by one to the floor.
“Then what do you plan to do? Work yourself to collapse again while starving?”
“I won’t die.”
Said with such certainty that Kirian’s eyes turned dangerous.
This time even Luan flinched a little, quietly adding more.
“It’s just…… a bit of an unusual constitution, is all.”
Is that ‘unusual constitution’ the reason you were coughing up blood? He had been examined by a physician while Luan slept, and they had found nothing out of the ordinary.
But having witnessed what he had witnessed, the claim of nothing out of the ordinary was the harder thing to believe.
Luan waved his hand as though the whole thing was a bother.
“Please take them away. The smell is making my head worse.”
Kirian was baffled.
He was refusing medicine personally bestowed upon him because it smelled.
In any normal circumstance the appropriate response would be tearful gratitude, yet this person argued back at every single turn.
Was he always like this? No matter how much he tried to recall when it had started, he simply didn’t know enough to say.
All he could remember was the expression of pure despair he had seen at the wedding.
And yet strangely, he wasn’t angry.
If anything, he was only irritated by how the sight of that sensitive frown at a mere smell, those pale cheeks, kept catching in his eyes against his will.
How poorly must his body feel for even the smell of medicine to turn his stomach?
The smell was strong, yes, but surely not to that extent.
“Stubborn.”
In the end, Kirian conceded, and called for the Head Chamberlain.
“Take it all back. Leave only the ones in pill form that don’t smell.”
At the order, the attendants began moving in a flurry.
Luan was genuinely impressed.
There was a reason he hadn’t woken up while those crates were being stacked.
Could anyone really move that many things without making a sound?
True professionals were something else.
Once the room was cleared, Kirian dragged a chair to the side of Luan’s bed and dropped into it, resting his chin in his hand.
“Why did you do it?”
At Kirian’s out-of-nowhere question, Luan tilted his head.
“What do you mean?”
“Harkan. That man is a beast. He’s the kind of person you don’t want to poke.”
Though his final state had looked more like a cat than a beast, admittedly.
“So why — when you were already in no state to be up — did you go out of your way to get under his skin?”
Kirian’s gaze bored in, searching.
“Was it simply about the budget? Or was it…… for my sake?”
While Luan had been unconscious, Kirian had been unable to stop thinking about it.
Had he dragged his ailing body out there and played the villain of his own accord — in order to break the northern knight order’s growing threat to imperial authority?
No matter how he turned it over, he couldn’t come up with a more fitting answer.
Kirian was genuinely curious.
They had spent five years living as less than strangers to each other.
What possible reason could there be for someone who had held their breath and lived as though invisible to suddenly go this far?
Luan looked at the Emperor with a blank expression.
A chill ran down his arms.
‘For my sake?’ What kind of third-rate romance novel line was that?
Ah — well, the original work was that kind of story, but at least the person on the receiving end of it wasn’t supposed to be him.
“Your Majesty.”
Luan replied, face serious.
“I did not do it for Your Majesty.”
His expression was firm — don’t get the wrong idea.
“Then?”
“Because it’s my job.”
Luan began laying out his reasoning in a dry, methodical tone.
“I have no intention of shirking the responsibilities that come with holding the Empress’s seal. I have no intention of abandoning my duties or my rights. And I have no inclination toward dereliction of duty by turning a blind eye to a hole in the ledger.”
Then, as if driving a nail in, he added:
“Shouldn’t I give my best for the remaining six months?”
This time, it was Kirian who faltered.
“……What?”
“The divorce deliberation period. It’s been exactly two weeks now.”
Luan began counting on his fingers.
That completely unbothered manner of his twisted something in Kirian’s gut.
“The past five years I wasn’t able to attend to things properly, but I’d like to wrap up the final six months perfectly.”
“……”
“That way there won’t be any lingering talk when we become legally strangers, will there?”
Five years. And two weeks.
The gap between those two stretches of time scraped against Kirian’s nerves.
For five years he had lived as though he barely existed, and then in a mere two weeks he performed as though he were an entirely different person.
It looked exactly like…… someone who had finished their preparations to leave.
Kirian’s brow furrowed.
Something in his chest felt tightly blocked, suffocating.
It was unpleasant.
He didn’t know why it was unpleasant, but that detached, matter-of-fact attitude didn’t sit well with him.
“Is that really all there is to it?”
Kirian asked, with a crooked edge to his voice.
“‘All there is to it,’ you say. It’s an important matter. Even if I end up as the party at fault for the divorce, it’s still appropriate to——”
“Enough.”
Kirian cut him off.
He deliberately put on a colder, more sardonic expression to mask the unpleasant feeling rising inside him.
Every single thing being said rubbed him the wrong way.
“It seems the Empress is under some kind of misapprehension.”
“Pardon?”
“Do you think an imperial divorce is that simple? You should know perfectly well.”
Kirian crossed his arms.
He was translating this inexplicable irritation into a practical argument.
“Senate approval is required, and we need adequate justification both internally and externally. And now the Empress goes around collapsing from looking half-starved? That’ll make for some fine talk.”
“……”
“They’ll be saying the Emperor abused the Empress and drove him out. Divorce or whatever else — it’ll be a disgrace to the imperial family’s reputation.”
“Ah……”
Luan finally understood and gave a nod.
Almost had me there. Of course — it wasn’t concern for him at all. It was about the Emperor’s own reputation.
He replied brightly.
“Understood. For the sake of Your Majesty’s standing, I will take care of my health.”
“Yes. That is your duty.”
Kirian rose from his seat.
But his mood didn’t improve.
Even that compliant, straightforward answer grated on him.
It felt like — I’ll do as I’m told, just make sure we part ways on schedule — and that was exactly what bothered him.
“One more thing.”
Kirian paused as he moved to leave.
He stood with one hand on the door handle, not looking back, and tossed out a single remark.
“Stop counting the days.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s irritating.”
Before Luan could respond with another dazed “Pardon?”, Kirian pulled the door shut with a bang and was gone.
Click.
On the other side of the door, finally closed for the first time in a while, Kirian dragged a hand roughly through his hair.
“……Damn.”
Something churned in his chest. What on earth was this feeling?
Irritating.
Right. That’s all it was. Irritating.
The fact that something that had been at his side for five years had set itself a deadline and was making noise about walking out — that was just the kind of thing to get under the Emperor’s skin.
It’s absolutely not that I’ll miss it.
Kirian told himself that as he walked away.
But his footsteps felt strangely heavy.
He had no idea why it bothered him so much — the thought that the expiration date on that divorce agreement, or whatever it was called, was quietly ticking down.
Meanwhile, left alone in the room, Luan stared at the closed door with a baffled expression.
At least he’d had the decency to close it behind him.
“……What is that man’s problem. Why is he suddenly picking at things?”
Was he threatening to cut the settlement? There’s not even that much to give me, so why bother? Maybe it was just in an Emperor’s nature from birth to throw his weight around.
“Ha. Exhausting.”
Luan flopped back onto the bed.
There was no worse kind of employer than this one.
He should be grateful to have someone of Luan’s caliber working for him.
Exhaustion washed back in and he closed his eyes.
“Get better fast. The best strategy is not giving him anything to pick at.”
Only two weeks had been shaved off of the six months to his goal.
As Luan lay there counting the days in his head, he still didn’t know.
That an unconscious obsession was beginning to take root in the Emperor — one that would stand in the way of that long-awaited clocking out.
