CH-007

Ecklet fell fast asleep in Gideon's arms. It was almost laughable that he'd managed to sleep at all in that situation, but sleep he did, and deeply. The cold he'd worried about catching never came. And from the next morning on, a chill settled between the two of them.

Despite Ecklet's cold rejection, Gideon still came to the detached palace as he always had. But the conversations they used to share were gone. The two sat facing each other in silence, drinking tea or taking meals. Occasionally Gideon would try to speak to him, but Ecklet did not answer.

Gideon mostly kept an expressionless face. As if simply being together were the goal, he would stay quietly at the detached palace for a while and then leave. Even in the face of Ecklet's one-sided disregard and rejection, he did not get angry. He behaved as though he would quietly endure it—or as though he were waiting.

Ecklet could not understand it. Was he not rejecting Gideon while holding another person in his heart—and not just anyone, but Ecklet Howell, who had died a criminal? Gideon had every right to be furious. But he wasn't.

Why? Why did he put up with Bobby Palmer's unreasonable behavior to this extent? Was his love truly that deep? Or else—

Of course, he wasn't entirely placid all the time. There were moments when his face showed he could barely contain his anger. When his quietly reaching hand was coldly slapped away. When even meeting his eyes was flatly refused. In those moments Gideon would look at Ecklet with fierce eyes that said he could endure no more. But in the end, he never lashed out—he would just turn away roughly. It would honestly be easier if he would just get angry and vent his fury, but he refused to give Ecklet even that.

It wouldn't last long anyway. Most of what Ecklet had to do from here on out was exactly the kind of thing that would enrage him. The day Gideon's desperate patience crumbled was not far off.

I never wanted to be at odds with you, not now, after everything.

Ecklet murmured, gazing at the main palace visible through the window.

He had not the slightest desire to clash and fight with Gideon the way he had when he lived as Ecklet Howell. But there was no other way to get what he wanted. Because Gideon would never simply let him go. Because even if I have to fight you and wound you, I will leave.

"Your Highness."

"What is it?"

"Ephios… nim is requesting an audience."

The chief steward spoke cautiously, his tone betraying his uncertainty over whether to attach the honorific at all, and waited for an answer. Ecklet nodded wordlessly, allowing him in. He had expected Ephios to come again ever since he'd returned from the Palmer estate and given him that little push. That he'd come sooner than expected suggested he was thoroughly desperate.

Ephios entered just as Ecklet was swallowing a sip of tea in the reception room. He offered a courteous bow and took a seat. His pale face was full of anxiety.

"Please help me, Your Highness."

What came out, without preamble, was a desperate plea. When Ecklet only stared at him in silence, Ephios, who had been gnawing at his lower lip, spoke.

"No matter how hard I try, I cannot even manage to see His Majesty. With my own power, I can't even get near him. So please, help me."

"Why should I?"

At the cold question, Ephios's face stiffened. The hands on his knees were nervously wringing his clothes, and blood showed on his hard-bitten lower lip. It was clear his anxiety had reached its peak.

"Did Your Highness not order me to capture His Majesty's heart? Since it is to carry out Your Highness's command, I thought you would help me."

Because it's a task I assigned, I ought to help?

Ecklet let out a scoff, openly mocking him.

"Frankly, I never expected you to be able to pull it off. If you managed it, fine; if not, it made no difference to me."

"Then why did you order me to do it?"

It was a task he'd been forced into under threat of death if he failed. Ephios asked with the face of a man betrayed. Ecklet answered with a laugh, as if he found the sight too funny to bear.

"Because I wanted to watch you struggle."

Ngh—. A low groan escaped through Ephios's clenched teeth. His hands, gripping his clothes, were visibly trembling. The rims of his eyes had flushed red. His face said he could hardly endure the humiliation.

Ecklet let his smile fade, gazed steadily at Ephios, and then abruptly asked:

"Why are you trying to stay in the imperial palace?"

The expression of Ephios, whose lips had been trembling with resentment, changed completely.

"Because you love His Majesty? Because I threatened to kill you if you left? Or because playing the sovereign's beloved concubine is just that sweet?"

"…"

Ephios was silent. He wore the face of someone whose great secret had been discovered. Ecklet stared at him with genuinely curious eyes.

Surely Gideon would not cast out a former favorite with nothing to his name. Even if he left the palace, Ephios would be guaranteed a sufficiently wealthy and peaceful life. So why was he, a man without even the strength to survive this cruel battlefield, straining so hard to remain within the palace? For Ecklet, who wanted to escape the imperial palace this very instant, it was difficult to understand. Did he love Gideon that much? But if he truly loved Gideon, how could his eyes show not a trace of jealousy or hatred when he looked at Ecklet?

"I—"

After a long silence under that gaze, Ephios opened his mouth.

"I don't want to go back to how things were. I don't want to live as some lowly nobody. I want to be here, in the imperial palace."

His voice was low, but his will could be felt in it. Ecklet couldn't understand it, but he could tell with certainty that the man was desperate.

"Please help me. Is it not what Your Highness wants as well?"

Ephios pleaded again. He had forgotten even his earlier resentment and was looking at Ecklet with utterly desperate eyes.

"Why come to me for help instead of going to your backer? Is Count Cissei not helping you? Or did you decide to cut him loose, as I once advised?"

Ephios clamped his mouth shut. His face showed his fluster at having it revealed that he'd been receiving Count Cissei's assistance. To be so flustered and struck dumb over something this trivial—it was worrying whether he'd even hold up long enough to be useful.

After regarding Ephios with pitying eyes for a moment, Ecklet heaved a sigh.

"You don't necessarily need to see His Majesty in order to remain in the imperial palace."

"Your Highness means…"

"I mean that from now on, you should play politics. The reason His Majesty can cast you out so easily is that you hold no official position whatsoever. So all you need to do is obtain an official position."

"But I am a commoner. I've been told the law forbids commoners from ever entering the imperial harem."

"You fool."

At his utter failure to comprehend, Ecklet's brow furrowed. Trying to make use of someone who had to have food spooned to his lips before he could eat was maddening.

"If status is the problem, then change it. Have a suitable noble adopt you. After that, you can simply enter the harem."

Ephios's eyes went wide. His face was that of a man in shock. To think he genuinely hadn't known of such a simple method. Ecklet, too, was so dumbfounded that he felt a mild shock of his own. Even a commoner who had never received a basic education—how many years had he spent in this imperial palace? Since Ephios had never tried to obtain noble status or worked to become a consort, Ecklet had assumed he was simply free of ambition. Was that not it? Had he truly not known such a path existed?

…No. Surely not, unless he was an imbecile.

Ecklet looked at Ephios with incredulous eyes. Ephios still couldn't hide his shock.

Beyond the fact that he was a commoner, nothing was known of his upbringing or origins. Gideon and his inner circle had kept it all so tightly wrapped up, as if it were some great state secret. Even in ordinary times, someone—Gideon or one of his confidants—was always attached to Ephios's side. Ecklet had assumed it was for his protection, but perhaps it wasn't such a simple matter. Perhaps… Ephios had been protected and, at the same time, thoroughly cut off from any outside factor or information that might have allowed him to gain power.

Ha—. Gideon. What on earth is this? Did you ever really love Ephios at all?

"But even if I become a noble's adopted son, His Majesty will not accept me into the harem."

This time Ecklet spoke with a face full of pure irritation.

"Even for a consort of low rank, it is still an imperial marriage. Do you think affection enters into it? That is entirely the domain of politics. Get the nobles backing you to move. Whether it's bribes or promises of future favor you scatter about, all you need is to make them act on your behalf."

"Adopted by a noble… a consort…"

As Ephios murmured blankly, elation slowly spread across his face. Ecklet smiled bitterly as he watched a thick, viscous desire settle into Ephios's eyes. With this, he could be certain. The man was not trying to stay out of love for Gideon. He wanted to remain in this imperial palace and go on enjoying his precious status without ever losing it.

Gideon and Ephios, who had acted like theirs was a once-in-a-lifetime love. But Gideon's heart had already cooled, and Ephios loved not Gideon but the power and glory he bestowed. That was all it was. To think he had agonized so much over something like this—how pathetic.

Ecklet rose without regret.

"Find a patron on your own, at least."

As he turned and spoke, disappointment surfaced in Ephios's eyes. But Ecklet ignored it and left the reception room. Who would want to sponsor a favorite already discarded by the emperor? He could easily picture Ephios scouring the palace with bloodshot eyes in search of a patron for some time to come. Now, at last, the man would truly learn what a cruel and filthy battlefield this place was.

Thinking of the harsh road Ephios would have to struggle through, Ecklet should have felt satisfied—but strangely, he didn't. He only felt hollow. And the man's desperate scramble to stay in this imperial palace struck him as a little pitiful.

Well. It's none of my concern.

Ecklet shook off the stray thoughts and let out a long sigh.

* * *

"Your Majesty."

The voice calling Emperor Gideon was exceedingly cautious. The faces of those who saw what was being presented before Gideon stiffened. Deep blue eyes fell upon the object in the attendant's hands. The thing draped in white cloth was, at a glance, unmistakably a framed portrait. That what was painted within it was some family's maiden daughter was obvious without even looking.

The atmosphere of the office, which had been icy for days already, chilled even further. The attendant holding the frame fidgeted guiltily despite having done nothing wrong, watching for a reaction. Gideon regarded the frame with cold eyes for a moment, then gave a jerk of his chin, and the attendant hurriedly set it down in a corner of the office and withdrew. In the spot where the frame had just been placed, paintings of similar size were already stacked in layers against the wall.

The flood of portraits of well-bred maidens had begun only days ago. As if by prior arrangement, every family of any name was thrusting portraits forward. Though nothing was said outright, the reason for sending portraits of noble young ladies was obvious. They were being presented as candidates for the new empress.

They could not possibly be unaware of how sharply the young emperor reacted to any talk of an empress or consorts—yet they had all begun to move at once. There had to be some background to this sudden maneuvering. Whatever the aim, the current situation was driving Gideon's already foul mood to its worst.

Quiet on the surface, fierce lobbying and infighting were surely already underway beneath it. To make matters worse, foreign ambassadors staying in the capital were now racing one another to request audiences. The reason they were so urgently seeking to see Gideon at a time like this was obvious: to push their own nations' princesses forward as empress candidates.

Gideon was still young, and he had only a single son. Moreover, there was no woman in the harem to bear him another, so the seat of the new empress could not help but be tremendously attractive. Now that the struggle to seize the empress's seat had begun, its ripples were bound to be enormous. From within the country and without, contenders would hurl themselves at the empty seat by any means necessary—which could only be a headache for Gideon, who had no intention yet of taking a new empress.

Complicated glances passed among those around Gideon as he immersed himself in his work again without so much as a single look at the portraits piling up in the corner of the office. The young officials who served alongside him in his office were deeply loyal to the emperor, but they too were nobles, bound to their families. Beyond the nagging of their houses, it was only natural that they hoped—no, were determined—that the new empress would come from their own family, if she was to come from anywhere.

Knowing full well how strong the young emperor's wariness was toward any talk of empresses or consorts, they never dared to step forward. But they were already watching one another with guarded eyes. Thus the underwater struggle over the empress's seat had already seeped into the emperor's very office. Gideon was aware of it too, which only made his mood all the worse.

Having dispatched only the essential work, Gideon shut himself away in the private chamber attached to his office. He could feel that the peace which had lasted several months since he'd destroyed Marquess Howell and his faction was crumbling. With the empress's seat vacant, it was bound to come someday—but not this soon.

Gideon sat staring into empty air with heavy eyes. It had been a long time since he'd felt this cornered. And it wasn't simply because of the matter of selecting a new empress.

The deep blue eyes that had been nailed to the empty air moved slowly to one side. Gideon's gaze settled on an ornately shaped box sitting in the corner of the room. As he looked at the box, his eyes faintly twisted. His hard-set jaw twitched. Gideon rose from his seat and walked over to stand before the box. But his outstretched hand never managed to touch it. Slowly, Gideon drew back the hand he had extended toward the box.

"You truly are exceptional at screwing me over. Even in death."

The murmuring voice was thick with bitterness.

It was only after a long while that Gideon, who had stood staring at the box, finally turned away. Where he headed was, as always, the detached palace where the boy who resented him waited.

Even knowing the boy would meet him with the same cold silence and disregard today, Gideon's steps carried him there of their own accord. His thin hope—that perhaps today the boy's heart might have softened just a little—would no doubt be shattered as always, but the body simply moved toward where the heart was drawn.

As he entered the detached palace, the attendants bowed in unison. The chief steward of the detached palace bent so low his forehead nearly touched the ground. With each passing day that his master treated Gideon coldly, the steward bowed deeper still.

The bedchamber he entered was already sunk in darkness. Under the flickering light, he could see the small back of the boy lying in bed. It was obvious he had deliberately gone to bed early to avoid facing Gideon.

Gideon sat on the edge of the bed and reached out. As he stroked the fine, soft brown hair, the boy pulled the sheet up over his head as if to block his touch. The cloth that completely covered the boy's body felt like a thick, unyielding curtain drawn over his heart.

It would have been easy to strip away the sheet and touch the boy. Forcing himself on the boy who rejected him would not have been difficult either. But Gideon did not do so. More precisely, it should be said that he could not.

He didn't know why. It had simply been that way from the moment they first met. Ever since he'd seen those strange green eyes—openly wary and resentful, and yet somehow imploring—it had always been so. He simply could not bring himself to come down hard on this boy. Even when the boy dug in with absurd stubbornness or spoke and acted with the utmost insolence, Gideon felt no urge to reprimand him. If anything, he found himself yielding, as though he were the one who had done something wrong.

Why on earth? What was so special about this boy? Why had he fallen so helplessly?

He had turned it over in his mind countless times, but no answer came. The only certainty was that from the moment he saw those eyes, his heart had been utterly stolen—and that he could never let this boy go. This impudent boy who claimed to love the dead imperial consort, Ecklet…

When he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder over the sheet, the touch was, as expected, shaken off. Instead of getting angry or forcing the matter, Gideon kept vigil at the boy's side for a long while, and when the night grew deep, he quietly left the detached palace.

* * *

"What does it say?"

Discomfort hovered on the attendant's face. When he didn't readily open his mouth, Ephios pressed him with a frustrated look. He wanted to snatch the paper away and check the contents himself, but for Ephios, who could not read, it was impossible.

"What is written there?"

As Ephios pressed him again and again, the attendant folded the paper and set it down, brow furrowed. Ephios, who had already guessed the contents from the attendant's expression, asked with a disappointed face:

"A refusal again?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Ephios-nim."

At the crushing news, Ephios slumped weakly back in his chair. The attendant quietly bowed his head and withdrew. Left alone, Ephios roughly swept the papers scattered across the table onto the floor.

Until just recently, the nobles secretly attempting to approach him behind the emperor's back had been as numerous as a mountain. The endless stream of invitations had been almost troublesome to dispose of, and whenever he encountered them at banquets they had been busy fawning over him. Yet now, not a single one had accepted his invitation to meet. In barely a few months, they had turned their backs on him completely. How could they cut him off so utterly, as if they'd never known his face?

His lower lip, chewed raw from anxiety, was already in tatters. Gnawing at that wound-covered lip, Ephios desperately racked his brain. There had to be at least one noble, just one, who would take his hand. He had to think of someone.

If he had known things would turn out like this, he would have cultivated at least a few friendships long ago.

Ephios regretted it with a heart fit to vomit blood. But regretting it now was far too late. There was no way any noble would extend a hand to a favorite discarded by the emperor.

Ephios buried his face in his palms in despair. He had finally found the way… He had learned how to gain noble status, and beyond that, how to become a member of the harem—yet he had no means of achieving it. The thought that he could not grasp what was right in front of his nose was driving him mad.

After clawing at his hair for a long while, Ephios slowly raised his bowed head. The capillaries in his eyes stood out, flushed red.

"…There really is no one but him."

Murmuring low, Ephios twisted his face. He had long since sensed that, as Imperial Consort Bobby Palmer said, it would be best to cut the man loose. But even so, there was no other choice. The one person who had always extended a hand to him in his desperation was Count Cissei—him alone. Even if everyone else refused, that man would surely reach out again this time. He didn't know in what form the man's help would come back to bite him later, but right now, his help was desperately needed. If he could truly obtain noble status—if he could just become a proper member of the harem—he wouldn't begrudge offering his entire soul to a devil.

His mind made up, Ephios had his attendant summon Count Cissei.

Not long after the request was sent, Count Cissei arrived. Ephios was, by now, a man all but banished to a remote corner of the western palace. Having agonized over whether the count might not come, Ephios felt deep relief at the sight of him. He was someone Ephios had always wanted to avoid, but now it was different. The man was his sole ally and his lifeline.

"To think you sought me out first—what's the occasion?"

The strikingly handsome count asked with a smile. But though he asked, he sat savoring the aroma of his tea with a face that showed no particular interest in Ephios's business. Even Ephios could tell the man was deliberately feigning indifference to torment him. But he had no room to care about such things now.

"Please help me."

At the abrupt plea, Count Cissei looked at Ephios's face, brimming with urgency. A smile mingling mockery and amusement rose at the corners of the count's mouth. His aristocratic blue eyes swept over Ephios's face as if relishing it.

"I need a noble who will take me in as an adopted son. There isn't much time. It must be done before His Majesty casts me out of the palace."

Count Cissei's eyes narrowed.

"So you mean to be adopted by a noble and obtain the status to enter the harem. You, who grew up selling your body in a brothel from childhood, could hardly have thought of that on your own—so who was it? Who taught you that method?"

"…"

Nothing good could come of the count knowing he had asked Imperial Consort Bobby Palmer for help. So thinking, Ephios kept his mouth shut, but the count's face said he had already guessed. No—he must have already known.

"So you meant to shake off my hand and attach yourself to Imperial Consort Bobby Palmer. How very hurtful."

The count shrugged. Then he rose from his seat as if the business were concluded.

"If taking my hand displeases you so, there's nothing to be done. I shall simply have to yield you to Her Highness the Consort."

The count turned away. It was obviously a performance meant to stoke his anxiety and desperation, but there was no way not to be swept up in it. Ephios hurriedly grabbed the count's arm. The count smiled with narrowed eyes.

"Why—why on earth!"

Ephios shouted, clutching the count's arm as if it were a lifeline.

"Why did you never tell me such a way existed? If the Imperial Consort knew of it, then you must have known too! So why did you keep it from me! Why did you never tell me, all this time, that I could become a consort too—that I could be adopted by a noble, change my status, and become a real consort!"

Count Cissei gazed steadily at Ephios raging and shouting for the first time. The smile still hung at the corners of the count's mouth, but his eyes were not smiling.

"You were always like this. You extend your hand saying you'll help me, but you always let go halfway. You drive me into even harder straits. You'd watch me with that smile, as if you enjoyed seeing me flounder. Why do you never give me real help? You could have made me a consort long ago if you'd wanted to!"

Ephios's tear-filled eyes brimmed with a venom, resentment, and fury that had never been visible in them before. Count Cissei regarded him for a moment, then abruptly wore a smile dripping with scorn.

"And why, pray, must I help you so wholeheartedly?"

Count Cissei's blue eyes were cold and piercing. The gaze was so icy that Ephios instinctively stepped back.

"Hm? Go on, tell me. The reason I truly ought to help you."

"…You've always helped me. Even so, you've always helped me, haven't you?"

"So since I'm helping anyway, I should take more care and help you thoroughly. Is that what you want to say?"

That was exactly it. But he couldn't bring himself to nod and admit it. Ephios bit his lip, his face burning with shame.

Count Cissei pushed away Ephios's hand from his arm. Then he let out a soft laugh. The icy look was gone without a trace; he had returned to his usual self.

"Well, fine. I'll help you."

At the unexpected words, Ephios's bowed head snapped up. Regardless of everything that had just happened, only the count's promise of help mattered.

"You'll really help me?"

"Yes. I'll help you. It's as you said, isn't it? I've always helped you. So I'll help you this time as well."

"…Thank… you."

At the thanks laden with humiliation, shame, and deep relief, Count Cissei laughed quietly.

"I'll find someone who will adopt you and make you a noble. As for what comes after—he'll do it himself without my needing to say a word. He'll want, quite desperately, for his adopted son to become a consort."

"…Quickly, please."

"Yes. Quickly. I'll find him before you're thrown out of this imperial palace."

Count Cissei left, and the door closed. Ephios collapsed into his chair. His whole body went slack with deep relief. But at the same time, he knew. Just as before, Count Cissei would use this help to drive him somewhere. The day would come, without fail, when he would regret this moment.

"…Still, there's no other way."

Ephios murmured, as if consoling himself. From that perilous moment when he'd been caught mid-escape and dragged before the brothel keeper, up until now—he had been desperate, so desperate, that he'd had no choice but to take the hand the count offered. Even if he would regret it later, he had to escape the crisis before him first.

"A consort. I just have to become a consort."

Ephios murmured, as if shaking off the worry and fear pressing in on him.

If he could only hold noble status, no one would be able to treat him carelessly. However low the rank, if he could just become a consort, even the emperor would not be able to throw him out of the imperial palace on a whim. As long as he committed no grave crime, he could live out his life in this palace. That, above all, was what mattered most.