Theodor’s gray eyes sank coldly.
That look again.
It had been nearly a week since he’d brought this small beast here. During that time, the creature had never once approached him first. It ate when given food and slept in the bed he’d prepared, but always maintained a certain distance, never attempting to cross that boundary line.
Would it have been different with the Emperor?
If the Emperor—who had disliked even children—had taken this fox as a pet, it surely would have shown him a different attitude. Perhaps it would have wagged its tail and acted cute, or approached first to curl up on his lap, earning his trust. Just imagining it twisted Theodor’s mood.
He possessed divine power that even the Emperor lacked, so why wouldn’t this beast follow him?
Unpleasant feelings slowly began to rear their head. Before being swept away by them, Theodor quickly collected himself. Negative emotions were of no help. Forcibly suppressing the displeasure boiling inside him, he smiled as if to reassure the fox.
“Did you sleep well?”
Instead of answering, the fox stepped back, avoiding Theodor’s touch. It was a subtle but clear sign of rejection. The corners of his mouth trembled.
Theodor, don’t show your emotions.
He forcibly controlled his expression. His stiffly frozen lips melted and curved into a gentle line again. It seemed he would need a great deal of patience to win this beast’s favor. Theodor withdrew his hand and rose from his seat as if nothing had happened.
“You must be hungry. I’ll bring you lunch soon.”
Whether it had been driven out of the imperial palace or had walked out on its own feet, he couldn’t know. But Theodor had become certain watching the fox show no signs of running away or trying to return, instead staring all day at something far beyond the window.
This creature had definitely been abandoned.
It was only natural for a beast betrayed by the human it trusted to distrust humans. Perhaps because of that deep wound, it was even afraid to step outside the door. Moreover, this fox had originally been a creature that lived in the wild. It would never open its heart easily.
So Theodor decided not to blame the fox’s sensitivity. Rather, he decided to willingly accept it. As God’s representative, he had to properly embrace the fox with gentleness and infinite patience.
However, there was one fact that Theodor himself had forgotten.
People knew Theodor as a gentle and patient clergyman. But that was not the truth. He was neither gentle, nor patient, nor merciful.
In his childhood, he had committed murder. The victim had been a priest. It was before he became a clergyman, and no one knew that secret.
If asked whether he regretted that day, Theodor would firmly answer “no.” Rather, if returned to that moment, this time he would have committed it without even more hesitation.
That priest had lived dissolutely, using prayer as an excuse to pick the pockets of the poor. According to the law, he should have become a criminal. But with only the status of priest, he was free from all sins. Since the law could not judge him, Theodor had no choice but to execute justice himself.
Ironically, that was precisely the reason he chose the path of priesthood.
If a priest went unpunished, how much absolute power would those standing at their pinnacle enjoy?
A position that could reign above the law. To him, who had been nothing but a powerless boy, that fact offered an intense attraction beyond disgust.
Theodor buried his true nature deep underground for the sake of his terrible ambition. The survival instincts he’d honed in the slums became poison to a clergyman who should value morality above all else. Moreover, no matter how powerful the divine power he was born with, an orphan without backing had to be even more careful.
Thus Theodor had lived wearing a mask for decades. A man who was actually neither humble, nor gentle, nor patient, perfectly performing all those virtues.
However, it didn’t take long for that mask to begin cracking because of one small fox.
***
Baron Lorend’s public humiliation caused massive ripples throughout noble society. The fear spread that the Emperor’s anger might not be a simple whim but a blade directed at the entire noble class.
The nobles now went beyond reading the Emperor’s mood and began seeking methods for survival. Some prostrated themselves flat, desperately trying to please the Emperor, while others secretly gathered forces beneath the surface.
There was no way Adrian could be unaware of these changes. Rather, he seemed to enjoy the nobles’ fear and confusion. He ceaselessly issued new edicts. He revived obligation clauses for nobles that had been nominal for decades and ordered massive investigations into families suspected of tax evasion and corruption.
The nobles who had possessed authority comparable to the Emperor protested, but soon quieted down. Because Emperor Adrian Albrecht’s imperial authority was stronger than ever before. Even the great nobles who had previously manipulated the Emperor at will dared not open their mouths, merely observing the situation.
Watching the arrogant nobles grovel was quite enjoyable. But even that pleasure didn’t last long. Because Adrian’s insomnia had become severe again.
After the fox disappeared, his bed became a cold, empty space. Without the small, warm presence he’d felt beside him, nights became unbearably long and painful.
The longer the sleepless nights stretched, the more Adrian’s nerves frayed. He woke at even trivial sounds, and during the day he suffered from headaches and fatigue as if fangs were stabbing his brain. His complexion grew paler by the day, and dark shadows settled beneath his eyes.
Rashly sending the priest away had been the problem. Previously, no matter how little he slept, he could endure thanks to the priest’s regular treatments, but once those regular treatments stopped, his body rapidly began showing its limits.
Having once again failed to sleep a wink, Adrian today leaned back in his chair with one hand covering his eyes. From afar, his appearance seemed less like an emperor and more like a hollowed-out human. The skin revealed beneath the morning sunlight was so pale it appeared transparent—it wouldn’t seem strange at all if he were placed in a coffin at any moment.
Kael had seen Adrian’s face like this exactly once before. Near the end of the war, when he hadn’t slept a wink for two full weeks.
But back then, there had been an enemy to fight. If he could just eliminate the enemy before his eyes, everything would be resolved. However, now the enemy was absence. The absence of the small black fox that had taken all the light from the Emperor’s world.
Normally, to Kael, foxes were disagreeable creatures. He too had secretly agreed with the palace talk calling it a monster that had bewitched the Emperor. He disliked the fox even more than others because it had bitten him twice. He only hoped the fox would disappear from sight once his wounds healed.
So when he received the report that the fox had disappeared, he’d honestly felt a slight sense of liberation. Because now he didn’t need to worry about the unpleasant gaze following him every time he entered the office, and could put down his unnecessary vigilance as well.
But now Kael yearned more desperately than anyone for the fox to return.
If it could just restore the Emperor to normal, he wouldn’t care if there were dozens of black foxes. But despite Kael’s efforts, the search had yielded no results.
They’d combed through the nearby forests thoroughly, sent people to the slums, and asked merchants one by one if they’d seen “a small fox with black fur and a white-tipped tail.” But nowhere could they find any clue to its whereabouts or any sign of a black fox. As if it had never existed here in the first place.
Day by day, the Emperor was gradually falling apart. Loss over the fox combined with fatigue, intensifying his anger and clouding his judgment. The man who had built an empire with cold rationality was being dominated by grief and exhaustion.
He couldn’t endure like this. Adrian would eventually burn himself out. No—perhaps he might burn the entire empire along with him. No matter how much power Adrian held, there were plenty of nobles waiting for him to make even one mistake, looking for an opportunity to sink their teeth into him.
Moreover, because the Emperor had stirred things up by provoking the nobles, they would certainly be watching the situation more sensitively than ever. So he needed to come to his senses as quickly as possible.
But the one who could restore the Emperor to normal was absent. If there was no way to bring the fox back immediately, only one option remained.
Kael hurried back to his office. He sat before his desk and unrolled fresh parchment. After dipping his quill in ink, he wrote down the contents without hesitation. After double-checking what he’d written, he sealed it with red wax and walked to the door. A young attendant was waiting outside.
Kael handed the letter to the attendant.
“Deliver this to Priest Theodor. Tell him to come to the imperial palace as quickly as possible.”
