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#3.
I’m Sorry, But I’ll Kiss You First
“Me? No way!”
“Then why did you come? You don’t even look like you have the nerve to watch.”
Nikolai lifted the corner of his mouth just a little.
My cheeks flushed hot.
Get your head together, Elizabeth. You’re a deadly femme fatale!
I swallowed hard.
It was time to deliver the line I’d practiced all night.
“Your Majesty, I have something urgent to tell you.”
My voice was honeyed and sweet. I didn’t forget to lower my gaze slightly and put on a coy expression.
“If you want to join, you’re welcome.”
“If you prefer monopolizing someone rather than mingling with many?”
Me — saying words like that out loud! My heart thudded, my limbs twisted with nerves.
Still, I’d managed to make Nikolai smile.
It was only the slightest curl of his mouth, but it made me freeze.
Wow. He’s even more handsome when he smiles. His handsomeness just tears through the mask…!
If Douglas was a peach — sweet and soft in a sugary way — Nikolai was a compact, dangerous beast, all decadent allure.
He was the most handsome man in this author-blessed world.
Beauty, wealth, power — he had everything. Why did Nikolai surrender to Claudia? He could have run away with the guard.
Unlike the original Elizabeth, who faced the guillotine, Nikolai had been unbearably serene in front of death.
He hadn’t begged for his life, nor had he cursed Claudia for taking the throne.
That calm made him look less like a ruinous tyrant and more like a martyr who had cut himself free of every torment.
Strange—maybe the character had broken down? Was there some hidden setting the readers didn’t know?
I looked at Nikolai again, wiping away my preconceptions.
But the man in front of me was simply a sensual womanizer.
“I like honest women. I didn’t know you were that kind.”
“Do you know me?”
“Is there any man in the Hartman Empire who doesn’t know Elizabeth?”
Not as emperor, but as a man — the implication that he saw me as a woman made a thrill crawl through my stomach.
“This is my first time meeting Your Majesty.”
“You sure sell an emperor you barely met well. Didn’t I say not to mock me?”
“Did you hear it all?”
“I knew Kensing sold invitations. I overlooked it because it cleared out tedious social obligations. How did you know?”
Nikolai, juggling two women, seemed to be well-informed about the goings-on of the party. A born aristocrat.
“Merchants are quick with information.”
“Is that all?”
“Is there any other reason?”
“I don’t like it.”
“Huh?”
“Be more honest. I think it’ll taste sweeter that way.”
I didn’t understand what he meant.
I didn’t know why he’d brushed off the other women’s hands and stepped so close to me. A strange scent made me dizzy.
How dangerous and frighteningly beautiful men could be.
The thought flashed through me: it’s not you seducing— it’s me.
I bit my lip hard.
I tilted my chin provocatively and winked one eye — a calculated, seductive wink full of femme fatale charm.
“What are you doing?”
Nikolai frowned as if puzzled.
What? Why does he react like that?
Panic fluttered. I tried a few more winks quickly. My eyelids felt like they might twitch.
“Why are you like this? Do you have something in your eye?”
He cocked his head. A cold bead of sweat trickled down my back.
Does Nikolai, like Claudia, have some conviction he’d die for? Surely a villain who only knows women wouldn’t!
Maybe my effort wasn’t enough.
Pushing aside the sense of failure, I kissed the tip of his finger.
Peck.
A trivial, almost naughty sound echoed.
“……”
An awkward, crushing silence weighed on the terrace.
Failing my trump move felt like the sky collapsing.
Only one option remained.
It’s now or never!
I wrapped my arms around Nikolai’s neck, pulled him closer, and rose onto tiptoe so that I could reach his lofty lips.
“Sorry, but I’ll kiss you first.”
The emperor did not grant permission.
Of course I hadn’t intended to wait for permission. There was nowhere to retreat to anyway.
I closed my eyes and took his lips.
When lips met and saliva mingled, even the mighty Nikolai had to yield.
My first-kiss like this — what a way to have it.
The feeling didn’t disappoint.
His lips were moist and soft. Nikolai’s breath was warm and gentle.
From my chest to my temples my heart pounded. It felt as if all the blood and nerves rushed to my mouth.
A tingling sensation that started at the lips traveled along my veins.
The secret sound of flesh pressed closely together filled my ears.
Nikolai didn’t push me away, nor did he roughly take my lips. He didn’t move — simply accepted the kiss I gave him.
“…Thank you for indulging me.”
I slowly loosened my arms from around his neck. My strength drained and my knees trembled.
The women who’d been with Nikolai erupted in furious protests.
“You said you didn’t want to join!”
“You should wait your turn properly!”
They seemed convinced I’d jumped ahead of them.
“Everyone, step back.”
“Your Majesty!”
“I have something to say to this woman. Alone.”
Nikolai’s gaze punched into me — a look that seemed capable of reading my heart and excavating even the truth I’d buried deep.
Success? Or failure?
Between life and death, I bit my lip.
There was no rapt passion in Nikolai’s eyes that you see in a seduced man. No anger either.
Before the predator’s searching stare, I couldn’t move.
Then he whipped off the half-mask that had covered his face.
As the cumbersome mask vanished, his wild, sensual beauty was fully revealed under the moonlight.
Thick brows, deep, intense eyes. A high, noble nose and sensual lips — a work of art.
Why was he looking at me like that? Like a man reunited with an old lover? Like a boy in first love?
No — it was different.
Think positively. The charm worked. Nikolai has become my puppet!
Bliss and delight flooded me — as if I’d extended my lifeline.
Then Nikolai moved his lips. His voice was calm and razor-sharp.
“You — be my empress.”
Even while scanning the two women, Nikolai’s nerves had been tuned to the party.
I thought I smelled something strange — was I imagining it?
Since his coronation at twenty-two, Nikolai hadn’t been able to smell anything. Fresh bread, blooming roses, or the finest perfumes — none of them registered. His sense of smell only reacted to the stench of the plague called the “Death Flower.”
Finding that flower and secretly isolating those infected was Nikolai’s fate.
When the Death Flower bloomed, victims developed red rashes like petals, emitted a strange smell, suffered high fevers, and died. There was no cure or prevention.
To stop the unstoppable spread, the previous sovereign sought the healing goddess Morasincia: fasting ten days and performing a 100-day ritual, offering a thousand bulls and a thousand sheep to the temple. Moved, the goddess expelled the Death Flower and gifted the emperor a wolf to scent and track the pestilence.
The Death Flower disappeared, and the former king was recorded as the country’s savior.
Nikolai bit his lip.
The wolf only found, tasted, and subdued the Death Flower; it didn’t fundamentally eradicate it. No one knew why the Death Flower, absent in the predecessors’ time, surged again, and why it only afflicted young women.
The former sovereign’s voice echoed in my mind:
“Remember: the wolf feeds on your desire. An emperor must not be swayed by lust. Do not chase petty happiness. Let no one steal your heart.”
With the goddess’s wolf by his side, the Death Flower did not manifest. That’s why those who harbored its seed were confined within the palace. Because they were all young women, Nikolai had to bear the scandal of being a casanova.
Only a few of his closest aides knew this. Even they didn’t know the twenty-eight-year-old emperor was still a virgin.
For Nikolai, women were duty and surveillance. Desire vanished along with the sense. Today too, he came here following the Death Flower’s scent.
Cherry blossom, jasmine, sweet berry — a mix of scents. It wasn’t a mistake; even the wolf had noticed.
I put my right hand over my pounding heart.
When the owner of the scent appeared on the terrace, I froze.
I swore I’d never inhaled a more enticing fragrance.
Isn’t this the heiress of the Emster trading house? She seemed colorless, scentless before.
The Emster family was one of the greatest fortunes in the Hartman Empire. Nikolai could not be unfamiliar with the heir.
Rumor had it she was a queen bee in the social circle. But that was all. A woman unrelated to the Death Flower meant nothing to him.
I’d provoked Nikolai simply because I felt a sharp curiosity I hadn’t felt in a long time — a hunger, perhaps. Or a desperate wish.
“Do you want to join too?”
“Oh, no!”
The putrid stench that had filled the terrace blew away, replaced by a fresh floral scent. My nostrils cleared and my mouth filled with saliva.
Nikolai’s eyes, staring at me like a starving beast, flared hot.
If the taste of those that smell like rot is bitter, wouldn’t one who bears fragrance taste sweet?
A strange heat churned in my belly. I wanted to taste her. Right here, right now.
A ferocious desire I’d never known flared fiercely.
Maybe the goddess pitied a soul who only smelled stench and sent someone to taste even briefly.
Such ridiculous fantasies seized Nikolai as he watched me — I blinked in spasms and blew kiss after kiss.
When my intentions were still in doubt, I said in a resolute voice:
“Sorry, but I’ll kiss you first.”
After that, I’m not sure what happened.
Sweetness poured into my mouth. My consciousness fled to a place beyond control.
It wasn’t heavy, artificial sweetness like chocolate cake — it was a fresh, bright sweetness that felt like numb nerves awakening.
I focused all my senses to savor Elizabeth’s scent and taste. I didn’t even want to moan.
The cherry-blossom scent of spring rippled inside me.
For the first time in his life, Nikolai didn’t want to be apart from a woman. He wanted to kiss longer, be closer, touch deeper.
“You — be my empress.”
My frozen heart suddenly thudded like it would burst. He feared she might refuse the sweet woman.
Fear? Nikolai’s thick brows twitched. A woman had bravely approached the playboy emperor and planted a bold kiss — she must be asking for something.
Come to think of it, there was a report that Elizabeth intended to seduce me.
Who would refuse riches and glory? No one.
But Elizabeth shattered Nikolai’s expectations again.
“No, I don’t want to.”
A strange rage surged — not only because she’d dared to defy an imperial decree.
“Why?”
“I’m not interested in that. What I want is simply to manipulate Your Majesty like a puppet.”
“Is that appropriate to say to the emperor?”
“So what? You’ll fall head over heels for me anyway.”
Elizabeth was brazenly confident. Nikolai narrowed his brows and asked back,
“And if you weren’t?”
Catching an odd feel, Elizabeth’s expression changed. Her pupils flickered, and she suddenly demanded:
“Your Majesty. Would you sit, then stand up for me for a moment?”
“What?”
“Try hopping like a rabbit, or turn around like an elephant trunk.”
Elizabeth was terrifyingly serious; she even demonstrated, holding her nose and spinning around.
She was sure he would obey her command.
Swallowing his displeasure and other bewilderment, he asked again, “Why should I do that for you?”
“Because I’m a deadly femme fatale?”
“You sound like a mischievous tomboy.”
“Oh no!”
Elizabeth screamed once and clutched her head. Finally, she seemed to come back to her senses.
“Now it’d be nice if you remembered who I am.”
“Em-Emperor… Your Majesty…?”
“Do you get how ruined you are?”
Nikolai snapped his fingers. Armored guards surged forward. Sharp-eyed attendants formed a ring around Elizabeth.
Pale, she stammered an excuse.
“It’s not that I meant to insult Your Majesty! It’s complicated…!”
“To insult the emperor is a crime punishable by exterminating three generations.”
Nikolai growled lowly.
Like someone who’d suddenly remembered how proud they’d been, Elizabeth trembled.
“I-I’m sorry! Please spare my life!”
She looked oddly familiar somehow.
Nikolai had never kept pets, but he’d once seen a small silk mouse wriggling in Franz’s palm: black round eyes, gleaming fur, tiny terrified limbs.
Was that called a hamster? She looked exactly like that — Elizabeth Emster.
Suppressing the laugh that threatened to burst out, Nikolai resolved: by any means necessary, he would make this woman his.
