Chapter 7: A Scent That Remembers What the Heart Forgets

Owen, who had been quietly observing the various emotions flickering in the man’s eyes with amusement, finally spoke in a cold voice.

“Who gave you permission to cut your hair as you pleased?”

What on earth was he supposed to say to that?

Fria swallowed dryly, his throat bobbing with tension.

He had barely woken up, and now this, what kind of absurd accusation was this?

And if one had to assign blame, wasn’t the cause of the haircut none other than the emperor himself?

Without removing the ornaments pinned throughout his styled hair, the emperor had rushed into rough intercourse, leaving the strands tangled and the accessories digging into his scalp, wounding him in the process.

Unable to bear watching Judith’s trembling hands painstakingly separate each strand to remove the ornaments without causing pain, Fria had snatched the scissors and cut it himself.

And then came Judith’s scream.

The guards, who had rushed in thinking something serious had happened, could only shake their heads at the sight of the head maid wailing over the severed locks on the floor.

He truly didn’t understand why girls would fall ill for days over something like that.

The one actually involved didn’t mind at all.

But seeing even the emperor react like this, it seemed that hair length was considered quite important in the empire, regardless of gender.

‘Y-Yes… If you prefer long hair, I’ll grow it out.’

Fria had cast a suspicious look at the young emperor, wondering if he already had some peculiar fetish, but upon seeing the completely humorless expression on his face, he quickly lowered his gaze.

“Are you trying to defy me?”

Interpreting Fria’s noticeably changed appearance as an act of rebellion, Owen’s voice turned even colder.

“I have already given you more than enough in exchange for a single night’s use of your body. If you think that is insufficient-”

The emperor stepped closer and seized Fria’s collar.

The thin fabric rustled as it was pulled taut.

“Then you will have to prove-”

The threads snapped under the strain with a sharp tearing sound.

Owen continued, his gaze fixed on the fine hairs rising along the exposed nape of Fria’s neck.

“-that you are worth what you desire, with that body of yours.”

****

As Owen exerted force to withdraw, the man beneath him let out a stifled groan.

Between the legs of the prone figure, what Owen had released slowly trickled down.

Leaving the man lying there, Owen rose and walked out, closing the inner chamber door behind him.

It had been a hollow encounter, devoid of substance.

Bracing himself against the table with his palm, Fria barely managed to stand.

His legs trembled as he took a step forward.

Ancient imperial books, knocked to the floor in the chaos, lay open, their contents exposed.

Some pages had even been torn where he had clutched them in pain.

Judith had once complained about how difficult it was to borrow books from the imperial library, this only made him feel more guilty.

Approaching a cabinet against the wall, Fria pulled out a thick book tucked into the corner.

When he had first brought his personal belongings upon entering the palace, Judith had stared at them as though they were relics.

But upon seeing the densely written Alphennia family tree on the first page of this old book, she had recoiled and put it down immediately.

Removing the back cover revealed a hidden compartment containing pills.

‘This amount should last you a year. But don’t be careless, use them sparingly and avoid overexertion.’

If he could endure one season, Kir would return.

And once Kir learned that Fria was in the empire, he would surely come chasing after him in anger.

By the time the harvest festival arrived, he would be able to see that dear person again.

Do not become excessively angry or enraged.

Do not love someone deeply enough to fall into despair or ecstasy, nor let desire quicken the heartbeat.

It was a curse-like illness, yet Fria had lived without much inconvenience.

Detached from all things, without deep affection or hatred, living gently.

He had lived that way, and he would continue to do so.

“Prove myself, huh…”

He muttered as he gathered the scattered books.

A hollow sigh followed.

****

After a brief coupling, Owen withdrew and rose to dress.

Ordinarily, a concubine should rise and assist the emperor, but Fria remained lying on the bed, his back turned, staring at the flickering candlelight.

In the quiet, like a shadow play, only the faint rustle of fabric brushing against skin could be heard.

The emperor’s shoulders disappeared into his shirt, and the heavy cloak settled over them, its shadow stretching across the wall.

It was the body of a man still in his final stage of growth.

Though not yet complete, it was only a matter of time.

After one more passing season, it would become a powerful and beautiful physique worthy of an emperor.

The emperor came to Fria every night.

For the span of a full lunar cycle, waxing and waning, he visited without fail.

Whenever he came, Fria would silently lie prone and offer his body.

Owen would then finish the act with minimal movement and leave just as quickly.

The pain remained, but Fria gradually grew accustomed to it.

Rumors spread both inside and outside the palace that the emperor had become infatuated with a male concubine from Alphennia.

Resentment among the noble ladies grew toward the arrogant concubine who monopolized the emperor’s favor yet never appeared at gatherings.

Even Judith had long since given up socializing with maids from other palaces due to their open hostility.

The man still spoke little.

Looking down at the exposed shoulder of the figure lying on his side, Owen recalled the rumors Byron had shared.

They said he was a naturally seductive beauty, overflowing with charm, that his skills in bed had conquered an emperor who detested such preferences, that he was so jealous and possessive he prevented the emperor from visiting other concubines.

The rumors surrounding the unseen male concubine had grown increasingly exaggerated.

Not a single one of them was true.

He was too old to be called a youthful beauty, and far from charming.

Where, in that silent figure lying there in quiet resignation, could one find jealousy or possessiveness?

After the initial resistance, he simply spread his legs as if he were nothing more than a hired body.

The empire had begun to stir.

Ministers who had constantly pressed for an heir, as well as the grand dukes of the various duchies, had stepped back to observe.

If things continued like this, the ministers would soon propose adopting Leon as the crown prince.

And if that happened, Lindgart would be freed from her confinement and regain her rightful position as the mother of the crown prince.

If the man lying there truly were the seductive favorite described in rumors, would Owen’s resolve have changed?

Would he, like his father, have become consumed by a man—abandoning family and country to pursue that single affection?

Impossible.

He was not like his father.

He could not be.

Footsteps faded away.

Turning onto his back, Fria felt dampness between his legs.

What the emperor had left behind had slowly seeped out and gathered there.

Carefully inserting his fingers into the swollen, overheated area, he felt the remaining traces that had yet to be expelled.

Though he no longer bled as he once had, the area was still swollen and sore after each encounter, too sensitive even to touch.

Still, he had to clean himself like this to lessen the burden on the maids.

The maids who had served the harem since the days of the former emperor, renowned for his vigor, treated the aftermath as casually as crumbs on a table.

They would enter without hesitation, change the sheets, wrap Fria’s naked body in cloth, and carry him to the bath.

He had once tried to insist on walking himself, but the veteran maids had firmly told him that staying still was the greatest help he could offer.

Whether palace maids were chosen for their strength or became strong through their work, Fria could not tell.

But faced with women who could effortlessly lift and carry him, he had no choice but to surrender.

As he dozed in the bath, his body would be washed and cleaned before he was returned to the soft bed.

Half-asleep, he would overhear the maids’ conversations, through which he came to understand how he was perceived.

A beauty capable of toppling nations, an embodiment of jealousy, a seductress, no, a seducer.

It was absurd.

He was not the one holding the emperor back.

The emperor was the one who insisted on coming every night, inflicting nothing but pain before leaving.

And yet, Fria could not bring himself to believe that the emperor acted out of desire for his body.

After the mechanical act of entry and release, the low sounds that escaped the young emperor’s lips did not belong to pleasure, but to something closer to pain.

There was something else between them.

Something neither affection nor lust could explain.

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