Episode 8

Yvonne had a natural talent for assigning psychics to the proper posts in government.

Controlling the ministers wasn’t hard for her, and they followed her lead quite well. On top of that, the most powerful duke in the empire stood by her side like a loyal hound, giving the imperial throne immense strength.

Yet, to Yvonne, everything felt trivial.
Her gaze often held a hint of weariness, as if she remained in her position out of duty rather than desire.

But whenever Yurian came into view, the emptiness faded, and something truly human flickered in her expression.

The ministers, unable to clearly distinguish between the two emperors—Hildegard and Hildebrandt—often ended up realizing just how kind an emperor Yvonne was whenever they remembered the cruelty of the past ones.

Yvonne never indulged in tyranny on a whim. She could be capricious at times, yes—but thanks to Duke Leonhardt, who handled all her whims as if delighted to take on the burden, none of the ministers found her unpredictability to be much of an issue.

“Your Majesty, I have something to report.”

“Go ahead.”

Perhaps for this reason, Yvonne didn’t find Marquess Rohan particularly difficult to deal with. He still carried himself like someone indebted to her, lingering around her court.
Yvonne didn’t drive him away—because she needed his powers.

“May I request a private audience?”

“Is it something important?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Shall we meet in the garden behind my palace this afternoon?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Marquess Rohan spoke as if he’d forgotten they were still in the audience chamber, and Yurian shot him a glare, eyes full of possessiveness, like a beast watching someone steal his mate.

“This isn’t personal, is it?”

“Of course not. It’s a very important, official matter.”

Marquess Rohan’s mocking tone made Yurian clench his fists without even realizing.
He hated the marquess.

It was true that Marquess Rohan had helped him awaken his powers a second time—but that was then.
Now was different.

And it wasn’t even for Yurian’s sake that Rohan had helped him.
It had been for revenge.
Revenge over being pushed aside in Yvonne’s heart.

Yurian understood that well—he knew exactly how the marquess felt about Yvonne, and why he still hovered around her, unable to let go.

And how he used the excuse of “stabilization” to ask her for purification, all under the guise of necessity.

‘Your Majesty, please… purify me.’
‘Take your tranquilizer.’
‘It’s not enough. I can’t bring myself to sleep with women I don’t love anymore.’
‘…Kes.’
‘Please… take pity on me.’

For Yvonne, purifying him wasn’t difficult.
All it took was holding his hand, brushing his cheek, or sometimes stroking his hair.

That was it.
She found Marquess Rohan rather pitiful, despite thinking of him as dull.
He had been thrown away by her—yet still couldn’t let go. That made her feel a tinge of sympathy.

If he ever said he wanted to leave the empire, she would gladly let him go.
She’d simply bring in someone from another nation with similar powers to fill the role.
Even if they weren’t a top-tier psychic, anyone would accept the position if she offered them the post of Prime Minister.

“I’m already looking forward to it.”

“Of course you are. You always got excited over the most trivial things, Kes.”

“Everything becomes special when I’m with you, Your Majesty.”

Even though the conversation between them clearly had different emotional temperatures, Yurian couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

He trusted Yvonne completely—
But Marquess Rohan? Not for a second.

That’s why he believed he had to stay close and protect her.

“I’ll come too.”

“Do you not understand the meaning of a ‘private’ audience, Duke?”

Marquess Rohan stared directly at him again, to which Yvonne responded:

“Oh my, I don’t know what that means.”

“Is that so? Then I suppose I don’t understand it either, Your Majesty.”

At that, Marquess Rohan immediately changed his wording.
Yvonne felt a twinge of sympathy for him—but when she saw Yurian visibly brighten at her words, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Still, since it’s official business, we’ll be alone.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“It’s fine. I’m with Yurian alone every single day anyway.”

At her words, the marquess forced a smile.
But behind it, his eyes looked like he might cry if someone touched him even slightly.

Yurian grinned triumphantly at Yvonne, and she—unsure what to do with this man of hers—smiled back before she even realized it.

* * *

“What’s troubling you, Kes?”

Yvonne recalled the original novel she had read in her past life—before she returned to this one.
The story had changed completely. Nothing had played out as it once had. The names were the same, the personalities similar, but the events she lived through were entirely different.

Even so, part of her wondered if just one thing might still unfold the way it had in the original. That’s why she looked at him.
In the original story, Marquess Rohan exiled himself to a foreign land after Princess Yvonne was murdered—and eventually took his own life.

Yvonne didn’t want Marquess Rohan to end up like that.
Not after he had helped Yurian awaken his powers a second time, and not after everything he had done to support her.

She also gave him some leniency, knowing that Hildebrandt had manipulated him using an amulet—causing his irrational behavior.
Normally, Rohan was so obedient that he’d rather throw himself off a balcony than push her from one. That much was obvious.

“Truthfully… I lied to Your Majesty.”

“What kind of lie?”

“This isn’t about official business. I asked for a private audience… because I wanted to talk to you like this.”

“Then that won’t do.”

She saw the red creeping into his eyes—he looked like he might cry again.
So she couldn’t bring herself to say it more harshly.

“I’ve decided to have Yurian’s child.”

Of course, her idea of “not being too harsh” was still rather sharp.

“If it’s your feelings for me that are making things hard… you can go into exile. I’ll even write a letter of recommendation, for any country.”

“Your Majesty…”

“I don’t want you between Yurian and me, Kes.”

At that, Marquess Rohan could no longer hold back his tears.

“I know… I just… I only…”

Yvonne looked at him blankly as his voice trembled.

“I’m content with just this. With simply staying by Your Majesty’s side, watching over Prince Hildebrandt. That’s enough for me.”

“Is it really?”

“Yes.”

She thought it might’ve been better if he had hesitated.
But his answer came too easily, too calmly.

“Isn’t it hard?”

“It is. But if Your Majesty pushed me away… I think I’d truly want to die.”

Yvonne knew how hard he worked to maintain a knightly figure just to be seen favorably in her eyes.
He wasn’t a man of the sword—he had no time for training. She always gave him so much work that he regularly stayed up all night.

“Why not find someone like me? A woman with platinum-blonde hair and violet eyes. Maybe you’ll find your true match.”

“Your Majesty…”

Rohan deliberately swallowed his words.
Before growing close to Yvonne, every woman he’d been with had resembled her—bright hair, violet eyes.

But when he held them, all he felt was the desperation to fill a void.
He had only taken them to ease the pain that nearly tore his chest apart.

They gave him nothing—nothing but the crushing disappointment that they weren’t her.

And every time, he wanted to die.
This curse that forced him to dirty his own body just to use his powers was unbearable.

He had never once looked a woman in the eyes during intimacy.
He drugged them so they wouldn’t recognize him, and when it was over, he’d erase their memories completely—so they forgot even the smallest thing about him.

“Then please… tell me how to live without needing physical pleasure.”

Yvonne found his words tiresome—but she couldn’t deny she still needed his abilities.
And if his feelings were truly that deep, they wouldn’t be something easily cut off anyway.

“Could you really live like that, Kes?”

“Yes. As long as Your Majesty gives me just a sliver of hope.”

That answer felt unbearably heavy.

“I don’t have any hope to give you. I’ve already given my whole heart to Yurian.”

“Then just let me stay by your side. That alone is enough.”

She knew it.
She wouldn’t be able to sever his feelings.

“Once a month—just let me have a private audience like this.”

“Alright. We’ll need to purify your magic anyway.”

Kneeling at her feet, he waited until her hand touched his head.
And when it did, he accepted her touch like a loyal hound—sniffling, clinging to even this much affection.

And from afar… someone was watching.

Crack.

It was Yurian.

With his enhanced physical abilities, he could hear everything being said—see every expression from a distance.

“I’ll make you regret this… Marquess Rohan.”

He said it aloud, laughing like a madman.