Ā Chapter : 15
That evening, Casielope headed toward his room in the Imperial Palace.
As on the night they had shared the first bedchamber, she wore a negligee with a silk gown draped over it.
When she reached the door, she habitually flung it open.
It was an unconscious actionāafter all, this was the room Casielope had used ever since ascending the throne.
Realizing her mistake, she quickly scanned the room. Fortunately, Regis was not there.
Casielope trudged forward and collapsed onto the bed as if throwing herself onto it.
As befitted the emperor’s bedroom, it was lavishly decorated, but since it was seldom used, it felt cool and devoid of warmth.
Regisā¦ he wonāt come, right?
She hoped he wouldnāt.
“It is also the Empress’s duty to endure the Emperor’s pleasures.”
Even if she tried not to think about it, Regisās voice echoed repeatedly in her head.
It was for that reason he had sent a false diagnosis through the court physician.
He had seated her on the throne with his own hands and treated her as if she were nothing more than a concubine. It was no wonder the pride Casielope had barely maintained was cracking.
“Iām sorryā¦ everything has a reasonā¦”
Even if it were empty words, she wanted to hear them.
Though she had no intention of forgiving Regis, who had taken everything from her, this was a separate matter.
He was far too precious to her to accept the betrayal of someone she had trusted without question.
Time passed, yet she opened and closed her eyes, hoping that everything would return to how it was.
She sincerely wished, longed, for all of this to be a dream.
The familiar bed, the ceiling she had always seen.
For just a moment, she let herself relax in the comfort of familiarity.
Casielope allowed her eyelids to grow heavy for a fleeting instant.
Four years ago, the land was drenched in blood, flowing like rivers near the border between the Burdensha Empire and the Clemens Empire.
The war with Burdensha had been ongoing for a month.
Casielope had volunteered to be deployed at the front, and by her side, like a shadow, was Regis.
Perhaps because Regis, a Sword Master, led the troops at the very frontā¦ or because Casielope herself had become a Sword Master three weeks ago through aura manifestation, the morale of the Clemens knights remained unbroken.
Although the war had only begun a month prior, victory was completely tipping in favor of the Clemens Empire.
Small boots touched and left the blood-soaked ground of the battlefield.
Amid the coppery scent of blood scattered in the air, an acrid smell of burning rose.
Casielope squinted her eyes and gazed into the distance.
From far away, in the center of the Burdensha camp, red flames surged upward.
Her face hardened, knowing exactly what that meant.
“I hate this smell.”
It was the smell of burning corpses.
During war, deaths were inevitable, but it was impossible to transport all the bodies to their families, so they were burned en masse.
The battlefield was not a place where each set of remains could be preserved.
The number of deaths was so great that corpses were gathered and burned all at once.
After the war, surviving knights delivered the remains to the bereaved families.
Thousands of remains, mixed together, with no way to know whose was whose.
Casielope found this custom distasteful.
Families firmly believed the remains they received were their own and cherished them carefully.
No matter how comforting it was intended to be, wasnāt it, in a way, deceiving those grieving their lost loved ones?
Yet, she could also understand their hearts.
Unlike Clemens, where casualties were very few thanks to Casielope and Regis, Burdenshaās losses were immense beyond measure.
“I hate war too. Why do they start wars where everyone only suffers?”
“Not all nations share the same desires.”
“Is it really right to sacrifice so many lives for just one desire? I donāt think so.”
Though the question was directed at Regis, Casielope spoke her own answer first.
She meant that her thoughts would not change no matter what he replied.
“Only about ten percent volunteered to be here. The rest were forcibly conscripted into the battlefield.”
It was only naturalāparticipating in war meant throwing oneself into death.
Or more precisely, one had to be ready to die unconditionally.
If everyone were a Sword Master like Regis or Casielope, or skilled in swordsmanship, it might have been different. But reality was harsh.
Most were not formally trained in swordsmanship. The reason was simple: most of the conscripted soldiers were commoners.
Swordsmanship was considered basic training for nobles, but not for commoners. For those who lived day by day, learning swordsmanship was a luxury.
Whether they had talent or not was uncertain, and training required considerable money, which was a heavy burden.
Thus, it was inevitable that many would perish when conscripted into battle.
As they said themselves, “Surviving is a matter of divine luck.”
Seeing Casielope puff up in anger, Regis let out a low chuckle.
Her expression was so solemn, and that solemn expression so endearing, that he couldnāt hide his smile.
“You really will be a good emperor, Lope.”
“ā¦Why say that all of a sudden, itās embarrassing.”
Casielope abruptly turned her head, flustered by the unexpected compliment.
Regis moved toward the direction she had turned and smiled gently.
A pink blush spread across her cheeks at his affectionate gaze.
“Donātā¦ smile like that.”
Casielope buried her face in his chest, pouting.
Wanting to see her cute reaction, he teased lightly.
“Why? Donāt like seeing me smile?”
“ā¦Of course not. Youāre too handsome.”
The straightforward remark made Regisās expression freeze, his sapphire-blue eyes trembling slightly.
“I mean, donāt smile like that in front of other ladies.”
Her blatant jealousy followed.
Regis froze, eyes rolling in shock.
Casielope lifted her face from his chest and stared straight at him.
Her violet eyes were firm, while his blue ones flickered. She grabbed his collar, making him lower his body.
“Why so flustered, Regis? You hear that youāre handsome all the time.”
“ā¦W-wait, Lope. This is too closeā”
“So what? Weāre engaged.”
Flustered, Regis turned red to the nape of his neck. Casielope mischievously laughed and released him.
As he hastily straightened his clothes and stepped back, her gaze remained fixed on him.
The wind blew, completely tousling Regisās silver hair. The fierce flames and smoke that had once filled the sky no longer drew her attention.
“You know, Regisā¦ being with you makes the battlefield not feel so bad.”
It was the first time she had thought that the battlefield, which she had always found terrible, was not so terrible after all.
Casielopeās eyes softened. Regis, finally regaining his composure, struggled to respond before speaking at last.
“If you feel that way, then I do too.”
It was something he said out of habit.
Not a filler reply, but genuinely heartfelt, as she knew, and she whispered sweetly.
“Soā¦ will you be my Empress, Regis? Letās marry.”
It wasnāt the typical place for a proposal, but it was perfect timing.
Regis looked at her with wide, surprised eyes, saying nothing.
Why hadnāt he replied? A fleeting negative thought crossed her mindāwas he refusing? But then Regis suddenly pulled her close and held her in his arms.
“ā¦Thank you, Lope.”
“And the answer?”
“ā¦Of course Iāll say yes.”
Regis answered in a voice thick with emotion. Casielope beamed brightly.
Under the twilight, their faces were lit with the happiest smiles imaginable.
