"Kneel...? Kneel, did you say?"
Countess Gordon's eyes were trembling as well as her shoulders.
"What are you waiting for? She told you to kneel," Bart said, putting weight on Penelope's order.
"Your, Your Grace..."
"You must know that your malicious intention to humiliate my future bride can be grounds for contempt of the royal family."
There was no going back. Now, she had to bend her knee as everyone stood watching.
Countess Gordon bit her lips in fury as her own scheme took a turn for the worse. Her eyes were bulging, and her body started to shake visibly.
"You are not real! This is just an act, and you brought a fake Emperor just to embarrass me again!"
Bart sneered as he watched the countess scream on.
"Now, you truly are in contempt, calling the Emperor an imposter. Guards, take her."
The convoy of knights swarmed into the venue. Countess Gordon finally came to her senses and bent down, begging.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. Please have mercy!"
"Take her away."
"No, let me go!"
The knights mercilessly dragged the countess out as she struggled to free herself like a leaf against a storm.
"No, no! Let go! Please, Your Highness. No!"
Penelope watched as the red-eyed Countess Gordon was dragged out. It was quite a sorry sight to behold... but not for Penelope. She felt a rush of relief.
Just then, Bart wrapped his arms tight around Penelope's waist.
"Huh?"
"Shall we dance?"
Before she could even accept the offer, he took her hand into his and readied them for the dance.
"D-Dance?"
Penelope could only blink in a stupor. Bart grinned and whispered into her ear, "We still have so much to discuss."
Penelope's heart started pounding.
"Ouch!"
"I—I apologize, Your Highness."
It was the third time Penelope had stepped on the Emperor's feet. But she dared not confess that the daughter of a good family had never taken dance lessons, simply because she had never cared.
"Do you not know how to dance?"
"Yes, well, that is..."
Who would have guessed that learning how to dance could have an actual use?
Penelope sighed regretfully. "I apologize, Your Highness."
He held her firmly by the waist and pulled her closer.
"Relax and leave everything to me. All you have to do is stay in my arms."
Penelope's face reddened from the heat of his skin that she could feel even through the silk of her dress. He gave off a cool, refreshing scent that calmed her nerves.
"Why did you run away that morning?"
Penelope flinched at the unexpected question.
"Huh? Well, that is..."
"I am unsure what to do with you."
"What?"
As Penelope looked up at Bart suspiciously, he grinned and pulled her even closer.
Slowly, his lips parted, and a rush of warm breath softly tickled her forehead.
"Whether I should reward you..." — Penelope's emerald eyes widened — "...or punish you."
When did you become my tutor?
"It wasn't a crime running away! I was in shock!"
Baffled by her boldness, Bart froze for a moment, then burst into laughter.
Penelope glared at him, unamused.
After a while, he stopped laughing and looked serious again.
"How you amaze me."
Penelope grumbled as Bart stared at her as though she were some amusing creature.
"Your Majesty?"
"Of course, I recognized your eccentricity from the beginning."
"I don't normally get that drunk."
"No, that night was not our first acquaintance. At least, not for me."
"First acquaintance?"
But Bart evaded her question. He twirled with Penelope in his arms and glided gracefully across the ballroom.
A few months earlier—
The library of Lavata Palace was filled with every book in the empire and open to all during the day.
"Is the library being made use of properly?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. The number of visitors has grown since last year."
"And the advertisements using the magic newsletter?"
"They are ongoing, Sire."
Bart walked between the endless bookshelves.
"Expand the section. More people must benefit from it."
"As you command, Your Highness."
"And when is the Felleta to begin?"
"Before the end of summer, Sire."
In Lavata, anyone could join the royal court if they passed the examination called Felleta. Nobility meant nothing there.
"And increase the number of applicants."
"Your Highness, the treasury—"
"We'll subsidize with the palace's assets."
"Of course, Your Highness."
"And make sure people know it was my order."
"Underline that, Sire?"
"Naturally. The people should learn that it was I, the Great Emperor of Lavata, who made it happen."
Bart had recently discovered that he enjoyed being admired.
"Why, yes, of course, Your Great Majesty!"
Oliver muttered sarcastically. Bart gave him a cold stare.
"You've grown quite arrogant lately, Oliver."
"Me? Never, Sire!"
Bart smirked. "As for the holgram, use the one with the blue tailcoat."
"But, Your Majesty, holgrams cannot be used twice for security reasons."
"What nonsense! I am the Emperor!"
"There could be threats, Sire. I rather liked the one from yesterday."
"Absolutely not."
"But Your Majesty..."
"I appear too handsome in that one."
Oliver's jaw dropped.
Yet the words were true. Silver hair gleaming like starlight, violet eyes deep as oceans, and a physique of iron — Bart was the most beautiful man in Lavata.
As they reached the library's end, Bart's steps halted. Through the window, a woman sat on the sill reading.
The sunlight fell on her golden hair and pale skin; her eyes, green as emeralds, sparkled beneath her lashes.
Bart stared, entranced.
"I have never seen this woman before…"
She was utterly absorbed in her book, unaware of the Emperor's gaze.
"Who is this?" Bart asked quietly.
"Miss Penelope of the House of Baron Zecalion, Your Highness," Oliver replied.
"Miss Penelope?"
She was reading. A noblewoman reading? Most cared only for fashion and suitors.
"It is said she has been engaged for five years," Oliver added.
"Why haven't I seen her before?"
"She never attends balls, Sire."
Bart cleared his throat, and Penelope looked up. Her eyes widened as she met his.
Bart assumed it was awe at seeing the Emperor.
She jumped up and dashed toward him.
Ah, another admirer, he thought smugly.
But instead of curtseying, she bent down and said sharply, "Move, Sire!"
"What?"
She tugged at something beneath his feet.
"Move your feet!"
"O-Oh, yes."
Bart stepped aside awkwardly.
Oliver scolded, "Madam! Do you realize who you are addressing?"
"Who am I addressing?"
Bart froze. Her innocent eyes showed she truly didn't know.
Penelope brushed the dirt off the book he had stepped on.
"Seeing that you treat books with so little respect, you are not a very nice man."
"Do you not know who I am?"
"No, not a clue! Will you step aside, please?"
Bart stepped aside automatically.
"May I get your name, miss?"
"I am already engaged. It would be inappropriate. Good day, Sire."
She brushed past him, muttering, "Move, you dumbass."
Bart blinked. Cursing? I can't believe it.
A faint scent of lavender lingered as she left.
"I think I was just insulted…"
He couldn't stop smiling.
"This is interesting. It's been too long since I found something so mesmerizing."
"Prime Minister, I need your assistance," Bart said, still grinning.
"Of course, Sire."
"Investigate everything about that woman."
Oliver hesitated. "But she is engaged, Sire. What are your intentions?"
"He can be replaced—with another young and pretty woman," Bart said slyly.
There was no arguing with him. Oliver nodded.
And that was how it began—Bart's obsession with Penelope.
The music for a slow dance was coming to an end.
They had danced in silence, Bart lost in thought.
Penelope mistook it for anger and decided to apologize.
"Um… I admit I was very intoxicated that night. I apologize, Your Grace."
"Yes, you were very drunk."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I may have had too much wine."
Bart's eyes gleamed. "And we spent the night together."
Penelope sighed deeply. There was no avoiding this conversation.
"Y-Your Majesty..."
"But do not worry. I am a responsible man."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You don't mean to renounce the wedding after declaring our engagement in front of the entire nobility?"
"That... of course not."
Penelope felt trapped.
"But you took advantage of me so well earlier," he teased.
"It was your proposition!"
"So you would dishonor the Emperor who saved you twice?"
She had no counter.
"If it is to take responsibility for that one night, you need not marry me."
"And why is that?"
"Frankly, marriage is too much, Your Highness."
Bart's eyes darkened for a moment but softened again.
"All right. I'm listening."
"I wasted five years in a loveless engagement. I want to live freely, unmarried."
Bart frowned.
"So you have no concern for me at all?"
"I apologize, but you do not love me either, Sire."
"Love?"
"Yes. A marriage without love is meaningless."
Bart's violet eyes glimmered faintly.
"Alright. That will be all for tonight."
"Thank you, Your Majesty! Many blessings upon you!"
Penelope smiled brightly, thinking she had convinced him.
"Blessings? Perhaps. But it is I who shall decide."
She didn't see the dark amusement in his eyes.
It was a peaceful afternoon after that event.
Rumors about the Emperor's appearance at the Montana ball spread like wildfire. Penelope's family interrogated her, but she argued that the Emperor had mistaken her for someone else.
Her logic convinced them — after all, why would the Emperor propose to the old spinster daughter of a baron?
For the moment, peace returned to House Zecalion.
Parion sat behind a book, pretending to read while avoiding Rubia's sharp eyes. Penelope was dozing on the sofa. The Baron focused on chess, and the Baroness hummed while stitching embroidery.
Flappety-flap.
A Hermes bird flew through the window, a letter tied to its leg.
Baroness Zecalion opened it.
Moments later, the room fell silent.
"Good heavens! This is ludicrous!" she cried.
Parion rushed to her. "Mother! What is it?"
"P-Parion! Fetch me my medicine!"
The shriek woke Penelope from her nap.
"Mother, what's wrong? Is someone getting married again?" she said drowsily.
"Penelope! It's you!"
"Huh?"
The baroness waved the letter ecstatically.
"See for yourself! This is a proposal from the Emperor! He wishes to welcome you into court as the Empress!"