* * *
Contrary to his fears, the meeting with the Empress went far smoother than expected.
Whether it was because of Ashard, her younger brother, or because Eren was now the tutor to her daughter Melody, her kindness toward him was obvious.
At first, he worried he was intruding on a warm family moment.
But as the conversation went on, he began to feel comfortable—nothing like the anxiety-ridden days of running from the possessive protagonists who constantly pursued him.
Just as he was settling into the pleasant mood, misfortune, as if waiting for its cue, arrived.
A maid rushed in from outside and whispered something into the Empress’s ear.
“His Majesty the Emperor has arrived.”
Though she had spoken quietly, everyone in the room likely heard. Eren tensed at the news.
It was no secret that the Emperor had asked him to become his consort. Feeling uncomfortable was inevitable.
Especially considering that the Empress and the Princess were sitting right in front of him.
Noticing the discomfort on Eren’s face, the Empress, calmly sipping her tea, muttered lightly:
“Tell him I’m busy and to go back.”
“…?”
The words were not unexpected—after all, they came from the Empress—but the recipient was none other than the Emperor himself.
She hadn’t even said to wait; she told him to leave.
Eren, stunned by the cold dismissal, sat frozen.
The maid gave a small bow and went out to deliver the message.
‘But… he’s the Emperor… Can you really do that…?’
He wasn’t one to pry into family matters, but this situation didn’t exactly give him the luxury to stay uninvolved.
If he just sat there, the Emperor would truly get shut out, but if he spoke up, things might spiral in an even weirder direction.
Unbothered by Eren’s worry, the Emperor sent the maid back in again.
“His Majesty the Emperor—”
“I said no. Tell him again.”
The Empress shut it down without even listening.
Eren, panicking now, darted his eyes to Ashard as if to silently beg for help.
But Ashard only watched, looking thoroughly entertained.
Eren’s gaze shifted to Melody. But she simply smiled sweetly at him.
The maid never returned, leading Eren to assume, with relief, that the Emperor had given up and left.
Then, from outside, came a small, feeble voice.
“Y-Your Majesty… May I come in, please…?”
It was a timid plea.
Eren turned toward the door, confused.
The pitiful voice didn’t match the man who had demanded he become Empress only days before.
“Please… I was wrong, alright?”
“I told you not to come in.”
Despite the Empress’s clear rejection, the Emperor, after hesitating for a moment, barged into the room.
Eren, completely baffled, looked around with wide eyes.
The moment that followed shocked him even more.
Thud.
The Emperor dropped to his knees in front of the Empress.
Eren quickly averted his eyes, unsure whether he was even allowed to witness such a scene.
“There’s nothing for the Count to worry about.”
Melody’s comment, half comfort and half joke, made Eren nod awkwardly.
But he still didn’t understand what was going on.
The Emperor, on his knees, pleading in front of everyone—this had already gone well past salvaging his dignity.
“I’m begging you. I was wrong. Forgive me, please, Your Majesty?”
“Have some dignity, Your Majesty. This kind of display in front of others only diminishes the Emperor’s authority.”
“Then… does that mean you’ll forgive me?”
“That’s… not what I meant.”
It turned into a bizarre couple’s spat—if it could even be called that.
More accurately, it was just the Emperor getting repeatedly shot down.
After five minutes of utterly meaningless conversation, the Emperor suddenly turned to Eren.
“Huh? Why’s he looking at me? What did I do?”
‘Please, Your Majesty… Just stay silent. Please don’t say anything…’
But the Emperor, as if trampling Eren’s desperate prayer, opened his mouth again.
And what came out was enough to knock the wind out of Eren’s lungs.
“Eren Nefendis is not my type!”
…What?
“It’s his strategies that I like, not his looks! That tiny, scrawny body of his isn’t my type at all!”
Eren stared blankly at the Emperor, as if he’d just been hit over the head.
A zero confession, one-sided rejection.
Even if Eren had absolutely no interest in the Emperor, it was still infuriating to be turned down when he hadn’t even confessed.
The Emperor looked at Eren urgently.
His gaze was almost desperate, and soon he glanced at the Empress as if silently pleading for help.
Now that he looked again, it seemed more accurate to describe him not as a snake, but as a slippery serpent.
There’s a saying: even if you’re in a bad mood, only a fool kicks away unexpected good fortune.
That’s exactly what this situation was.
Although he’d suddenly ended up not being to the Emperor’s tastes, if he could get through this well, he might be able to demand compensation from the Emperor later.
In noble society, favors always come with a price.
There’s no way the Emperor wouldn’t know that, making this an unopened golden gourd—potential treasure.
Eren, being a skilled negotiator, already saw how this situation could benefit him.
He was even calculating what he might be able to ask from the Emperor in the future.
“That’s right. That day, His Majesty asked me to become his consort not because he was fond of me, but because he needed my abilities.”
When Eren sided with the Emperor, the Empress looked at him with surprise.
After a brief glance at the situation, she seemed to realize what Eren was aiming for, and a subtle smile appeared on her lips.
“If that’s what you say, then I suppose I must believe you.”
With the seasoned grace of someone who could easily turn an awkward moment around, the Empress brought the uncomfortable conversation to a close.
Soon after, Ashard stepped out for a conversation with Melody, leaving just the two of them in the room.
Unlike when everyone had been together, a tense silence now lingered.
Eren glanced at the Empress, gauging her mood.
Catching his look, she gave a lazy smile and asked,
“You look like you have a lot to say.”
“…Not at all.”
“Well, as you can see, His Majesty isn’t exactly a model man.”
The Empress’s blunt criticism of the Emperor made Eren’s eyes tremble like quaking leaves.
‘Why are this royal couple messing with me today?’
* * *
