TEIOS 20

Episode 20

Everyone was wondering one big thing after the attack:

Where is our Emperor?

No official answer had been given since the incident. Even palace staff who rarely saw him didn’t know if he was alive or dead.

“Where is His Majesty? Is he dead or alive?”

Reading such huge headlines, Alastair set down his newspaper and took off his reading glasses.

“Merlin, report.”

Merlin stood in the office and gave a detailed update:

“Even the Duke of Devilport is demanding news of the Emperor’s safety. Some are preparing for the worst.”

Alastair’s absence wasn’t mysterious—he simply had a reason:

“I, John Smith, injured my head. If the Emperor showed the same wound, everyone would realize I’m him.”

He had to stay hidden.

“I’ll stay in hiding for about two weeks. By then, the wound should have healed.”

Still, people wanted proof he was alive. Despite a palace statement saying he was safe, calls for evidence grew louder:

“The Emperor must appear!”

In the last two weeks, headlines shifted from polite to demanding. The public began to doubt the palace’s words.

One senior aide offered hope: “Don’t worry—once he returns, the headlines will read, ‘Hero Emperor defies terror, stands proud!’”

This political terror had shaken the Empire deeply. With poor communication from the palace and constant media pressure, fear and rumors grew.

“And this paper—they’re influenced by Devilport.”

Every news mention tied back to the Duke.

Despite his flaws, I felt sympathy for the Emperor—staying inside after a terror attack seems wise.

Merlin said, “Yes, he’s injured and recovering at a remote palace.”

That explained his disappearance.

“He’s really hurt, then.”

Smith was injured—and so was the Emperor.

“They’re like soul twins,” I murmured, glancing at Smith’s bandage under the dim office lights.

It was 5 o’clock. I sighed:

“Oh—time to go home.”

At once, the aides perked up, eyes shining.

“Home time?”

“Home time!”

They packed and fled like lightning. Office workers know the speed of lunch and quitting time.

I paused.

“Smith—isn’t he leaving?”

A great boss like mine deserves better than a rushed departure.

Smith replied, “I’ll finish this and go out after you.”

He always stayed late; his home was nearby.

Seeing the big gauze on his head, I frowned.

“Get more treatment. It looks painful. It’s healing?”

Smith smiled gently:

“That’s what I plan to do. How about you, Rose?”

“I’m fine—thanks to you catching me.”

If he hadn’t caught me falling, I might’ve broken my neck.

He suddenly said, “Give me your hand.”

“My hand?”

He held out his hand; I placed mine in his.

“Nice. Now if only I could lift a chair again.”

“Can you lift a chair, Smith?”

“For you, Rose.”

I ran my fingers over his palm. It was rough—surprising for someone who works with pens.

“Did you train in swordplay?”

“I have, lately—motivated by you.”

“By me?”

“Yeah. I didn’t expect you to be so strong that day—it was… reassuring.”

“In danger, people do things they never thought they could.”

“Did it for you.”

“For you.”

After that day, a silent bond grew between us. We saved each other’s lives—willingly.

Smith smiled softly—like creamy cappuccino.

“I owe you my life.”

“If I’m ever in trouble, you’ll save me.”

“I’ll follow you forever and save you.”

“Thanks.”

He looked at my hand; I noticed a tiny scratch.

“Is this from earlier?”

“It’s just a scrape. It’ll heal.”

“You got it for me.”

“Yes—but you got hit with a pocket watch for me,” I said.

He shrugged.

“A small bruise.”

“My heart stopped—I must’ve been hurt.”

I moved his hair, inspecting his wound.

“Look, it’s bleeding.”

I leaned in—and his breath brushed me. Our eyes met.

I froze. His soft smile drew me in—lovely, subtle.

“Why are you like that?”

His teasing voice pulled me back, and I stepped away—but stumbled.

“Careful!”

He caught me, steadying me. His support felt safe—until I noticed I was sitting on his thigh.

Embarrassed, warmth rushed to my cheeks.