6 in the morning.
The birds chirped without a shred of self-awareness, and the sun rose with an utterly unnecessary brilliance.
The diligent and industrious ruler of the empire, young Emperor Kirian Eckart, had already risen and finished his swordsmanship training at the practice grounds. Having washed off the sweat and just stepped out of a fresh shower, he was in fine spirits as he shook off the remaining moisture and flung open the door connecting to the room next door.
“Empress, rise and shine. It’s morning!”
His vigorous voice rang through the room. But all that came back was a heavy silence. The white mound rising in the center of the vast bed was perfectly still. Somehow, the scene looked little different from the one he had seen yesterday.
“…….”
Kirian frowned and approached the bed. The only thing peeking out from beyond the snow-white duvet was a tangle of disheveled platinum blond hair. Catching the morning light and shimmering with a near-translucent glow, the hair was almost sacred-looking — but its owner was every bit the picture of a corpse. He even seemed to recall an attendant having tucked the duvet over him. Surely he hadn’t been in this exact state since last evening?
“I said get up. I don’t permit laziness in my domain.”
Kirian mercilessly yanked the duvet back. And there lay Luan, in the exact same position as when he had last seen him. He could barely open his eyes, stirring like a snowman melting under the sun.
“……Mmph.”
“What was that?”
“……The brightness is excessive.”
Luan murmured dryly, shielding his eyes with his arm. Even half-asleep, his word choices were impressively consistent — Kirian couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. This Empress, who always managed to surprise him with something new, never failed to draw out an involuntary flash of amusement.
“That’s not brightness. That’s the sun.”
“…….”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“I would prefer not to know…….”
“Get up. Breakfast has been prepared.”
Kirian grabbed Luan’s arm and forced him upright. But his upper body rose limply, like a spineless creature without a single bone, and the moment his hand let go, Luan slid right back down onto the bed. His slender, long neck drooped along with his head.
Standing there with his arms crossed, glaring with undisguised exasperation, he watched as Luan strained to lift his eyes — eyes that refused to stay open — and looked up at Kirian. The hazy, unfocused lavender irises had no focal point whatsoever. That blurred gaze was not so much mysterious as it was saturated with the bleak emptiness of someone who found every single thing in the world too tiresome to bother with.
Kirian looked into those eyes and thought:
Shouldn’t a normal person be startled and bolt upright?
This was none other than the Emperor’s morning call. He wasn’t sure whether his authority simply held no sway, or whether this indifference was a carefully cultivated act. Was he being ignored? It was an attitude that stirred something in the competitive spirit of an Emperor who had only just turned twenty — though in a strangely particular way.
No — the fact that something this trivial is getting to me at all is an insult to my pride.
“Wash up and come out. I’ll give you ten minutes.”
Kirian dropped Luan like a sack and walked out. Luan melted back into one with the bed, buried his face in the pillow, and flung a string of curses at the world.
“Damn morning person.”
In my past life or this one, a diligent boss is the enemy of all mankind.
Twenty minutes later.
The dining table was set with freshly baked bread, crisp salad, and a steak glistening with juices. Kirian began breakfast in his characteristically elegant manner, knife in hand. His gaze drifted across to Luan seated opposite him.
Having dragged his feet and arrived just barely within the time that wouldn’t provoke outright anger, Luan sat there half-melting into his chair, draped in clothes his attendants had dressed him in. One might marvel that he was sitting upright at all. His platinum blond hair had been loosely combed back, with a few strands falling over his forehead, and his pallid face was utterly bloodless. He looked like a doll whose soul had gone on an unauthorized outing.
“Not eating?”
Kirian asked. Luan had his spoon raised, frozen mid-air, staring vacantly down at his soup. There was nothing to be gained from a staring contest with food. He was about to say something more when Luan’s pale lips moved.
“Chewing feels like too much effort.”
“……What?”
“I don’t want to expend energy on the process of chewing and swallowing.”
At the declaration that even moving his mouth was too much trouble, Kirian slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. Was this meant to be a joke? But Luan pressed on in complete earnest.
“With your permission, would it be acceptable to simply drink instead?”
The eyes looking up at Kirian were in deadly earnest — practically pleading. Before he knew what he was saying, he heard himself answer: “Do as you like.” The moment permission was granted, Luan picked up the soup bowl as though it were a teacup and slurped it down in one go. It was beyond words. A meal that had tossed all table etiquette straight out the window. Efficient, he’d grant — given the whole energy argument.
Is he ignoring me, or is this some kind of protest?
Far from being afraid of him, this person’s behavior was shameless beyond belief, looks aside. Not even a splinter of tension to be seen. The attitude even conveyed something along the lines of: You called me here yourself, so you’ve got no right to complain about what you’re seeing. Then again, he likely wasn’t even thinking that far ahead.
“Empress.”
“Yes.”
“You must have slept well last night. You were out cold without making a sound.”
“Yes. The bed is excellent.”
“Isn’t that a little too unbothered?”
He hadn’t swept for eavesdropping devices, hadn’t probed for escape routes — just sprawled out and slept through the day. Kirian threw out the pointed remark and watched for Luan’s reaction. It was an undisguised nudge at whether he had ulterior motives — and Luan set down his water glass and replied without missing a beat.
“Considering it is the room right next to Your Majesty’s bedchamber, would you really have stood by quietly if I had done anything suspicious?”
“…….”
“I trusted in Your Majesty’s surveillance capabilities and slept soundly.”
To then go on and say that the finest security system in the empire was right next door, so there was no need to be on guard — Kirian found himself at a genuine loss. Was he being serious?
Luan looked straight at Kirian through drowsy eyes. Those listless irises held not a trace of fear or panic. It was simply the exhausted, exasperated request of someone thinking: Could you stop pestering me and let me eat in peace?
Kirian was briefly at a loss for words. A security system. In all his years, this was the first person who had ever treated the Emperor like the household guard. And it wasn’t so much offensive as it was so absurd he burst out laughing.
He has a talent for leaving people speechless.
Kirian propped his chin in his hand and laughed crookedly. The Empress he was properly facing for the first time in five years had a more amusing side to him than expected.
“Fine. Since you want to conserve your stamina, I’ll accommodate that.”
“Thank you. Then, back to bed……”
“In exchange, you’ll need to put your head to use.”
Kirian made a gesture, and the head chamberlain approached carrying a thick stack of documents.
Thud.
A mountain of paperwork piled onto the dining table. Luan’s half-closed eyes flew open for the first time. His pupils trembled wildly. What is this cursed thing to bring to the breakfast table?
“……What is this?”
“The Empress’s duties.”
When did those ever exist? No — they existed, but when had anyone ever assigned them? Luan stared flatly at Kirian, who curved his lips upward.
“Things that piled up over the vacancy of the past few years.”
And whose fault is it that there was a vacancy? It was shamelessly brazen. Luan replied, calm as ever.
“I am someone who will shortly be getting a divorce.”
“Until the divorce, you’re still the Empress. Shouldn’t you earn your keep?”
Kirian smiled with wicked satisfaction.
“Have it all done by today.”
What kind of workplace harassment is this. Not even a handover briefing, just deal with it — did he really have to go through this even in a fantasy world?
“If you can’t manage…… you know what, don’t you? That there’s no lock on our bedroom door.”
It was a blatant threat. And at the same time, a test.
He’ll probably make a tearful face and beg for mercy. Or maybe frantically dig through for information only the Emperor could handle.
But what Kirian saw was Empress Luan letting out a deep, deep sigh. He made no tearful face, and his eyes didn’t gleam with intent. He simply stared up at the towering stack of paper on the dining table with utterly hollow eyes. The look of someone gazing at a pile of waste materials that had to be disposed of.
“……Ha.”
A short, heavy sigh. It was not fear. It was simply the gaze of someone who wanted to work less than anyone else in the world — and yet, with more sincerity than at any moment before, those eyes looked up at the Emperor.
“……Will overtime pay be provided?”
Since when does an Empress receive pay? That was the correct answer — yet in that moment, even Kirian couldn’t bring himself to say it. Because right then, Luan looked less like an Empress and more like a secretary finishing up a week-long all-nighter.
