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chapter 85
Serret left the hotel and got into the carriage. She consciously tried to think of anything other than Yuan and Lydia.
“Anyway, the Emperor’s death came early this time.”
Serret thought as she stared out at the dark world beyond the window.
The Emperor had died a whole year earlier than in her previous life. Then Lydia’s marriage must also happen sooner. Not long after the Emperor’s death, Lydia had hastily married Robbie Bronk.
Society was full of gossip: that the Crown Prince, who had always seen Lydia as a thorn in his side, had forced her into marriage with the unremarkable second son of the Bronk family. Sympathy for Lydia had spread quickly, leaving the Crown Prince and his wife in an awkward position.
Serret pictured the face of Lydia’s future husband, Robbie Bronk — a short, plump man with the kind of forgettable appearance one could find anywhere.
“Now, what was the reason for his death again?”
Robbie Bronk had died less than a year after marrying Lydia. The Bronk family had been tight-lipped about the cause, which led to a flurry of rumors.
Some said he’d had a chronic illness that finally claimed his life. Others whispered he’d lived a debauched life and died of syphilis. Still others murmured of suicide.
Whatever the truth, both the Bronk family and Lydia had remained completely silent about it.
Why did Robbie Bronk die? At such a young age?
As Serret pondered, the carriage came to a stop, and she turned her gaze to the window. Beyond it stood the Duke’s mansion.
Serret stepped down from the carriage and climbed the stone stairs with heavy, weary steps. As soon as she entered the hall, the butler hurried toward her.
“Welcome back, Madam.”
“The Emperor has passed away,” Serret said, relaying the grim news.
“We just received a summons for His Grace from the Imperial Palace as well,” the butler replied.
“His Grace has already gone. He should be at the palace by now.”
“I see.”
“If anything is needed, consult with Mrs. Lindsay and have it prepared in advance.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Their conversation ended, and Serret began ascending the stairs. As she climbed, she pictured Yuan and Lydia together — Lydia grieving, and Yuan standing beside her, heart aching in sympathy.
The image made Serret laugh softly, but tears soon welled up, and she hastily wiped them away.
When she entered her bedroom, she wore her usual calm expression. Hannah, her maid, ran up eagerly.
“Madam, did you have a good talk with His Grace?”
“No.”
Serret gave an awkward smile and sat down on the sofa.
“I got word of His Majesty’s death before we could finish talking,” she said, answering Hannah’s worried look with a faint smile.
Hannah’s eyes widened.
“His Majesty… has passed away?”
“Yes. A sun has set.”
“Oh dear…”
Hannah covered her mouth in shock. Somehow, it felt strange — as if she was only now realizing that even an emperor was human. He had always seemed like someone who would never die.
“I’m tired, Hannah. I’ll turn in early. Draw me a bath.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Wiping the surprise from her face, Hannah hurried out of the room.
After bathing, Serret went to bed earlier than usual. She wanted to sleep without thinking about anything, but sleep refused to come.
Late into the night, she tossed and turned until the sound of hooves in the distance made her sit up.
She got out of bed, walked to the window, and opened it wide. Yuan’s carriage was entering the mansion gates.
“Yuan…”
She hadn’t expected him to return tonight. Serret stared blankly as he stepped down from the carriage.
She stood at the window until he disappeared from view, then snapped back to herself and hurried out of the room.
A small remnant of longing drove her feet toward him — she wanted to see at least a trace of guilt in his face, for abandoning her at the hotel and leaving with Lydia.
Out in the corridor, she heard footsteps climbing the stairs — slow, heavy steps that grew louder and louder, quickening her heartbeat.
Yuan appeared at the top of the stairs. Serret walked toward him.
He stopped when he saw her.
“Your Grace,” she called softly.
Perhaps it was the dim lighting, but his face looked shadowed and dark. His voice came out like a sigh.
“You’re not asleep?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s late. Go to bed.”
He turned away, heading toward his room, brushing past her.
His familiar scent was mixed with Lydia’s perfume.
Hurt by his indifference — by the fact that he didn’t even ask how she was — Serret grabbed his arm before she could think.
He halted, looking down at her. She lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Let’s talk.”
“It’s late. Later.”
“We have unfinished business, don’t we?”
Serret looked straight into his eyes. What she really wanted to hear was an apology — but the words that came out were different.
Even under the dim lights, she could see his gaze turn cold. His lips curled into a sharp smirk.
“You seem eager to finalize our divorce.”
“You were the one who brought it up first, Your Grace.”
“But you’re the one who wants it more than anyone.”
He shook her hand off and started toward his room again.
Serret clenched her fists as he walked away, carrying Lydia’s scent with him.
“I do want to finish it quickly,” she said behind him.
He froze. His shoulders trembled slightly. His face twisted as he struggled to contain his anger.
“This isn’t something to rush through.”
“Nor something to drag out,” she replied firmly, still looking at his back.
Yuan slowly turned around. His face, cold and sharp as glass, glinted with suppressed fury.
“I want it to end soon,” Serret said.
Though his eyes were like blades that might cut her, she didn’t back down.
In a few steps, Yuan was standing before her again. Gripping both her arms tightly, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice.
“Don’t provoke me. I don’t know what I might do to you.”
“….”
Serret couldn’t answer. She looked up at him — his gray eyes glimmering dangerously.
For a long time, they just stared at each other in tense silence.
“Remove me from your life,” Serret finally said.
Suddenly, fear rose in her chest. Was Yuan planning — like in her previous life — to kill his wife for the sake of the woman he loved?
She didn’t want to become a sacrifice to Yuan and Lydia’s love again. Her body trembled.
“…And why should I?”
His grip on her arms tightened.
He had finally realized what that damned thing called love was — and now she was asking him to cast it aside?
If he removed her from his life, he knew he would only drown in those same tormenting feelings. He knew how it would destroy him.
Why should I ruin myself? Just because I love you?
“….”
“Why should I show you that kind of mercy?”
Yuan yanked her closer.
This woman who always unsettled him, who made him confront emotions he didn’t understand — he had always thought she was an unsolvable problem. But now the answer was clear.
He loved her. The woman whose existence should have meant nothing to him.
Love — that wretched emotion — tore his ordered life to pieces. It reminded him that not everything in this world could be controlled, and it filled him with a deep sense of defeat.
He didn’t know why people called love sweet and romantic. To Yuan, it was a tyrant that had invaded his perfect life.
He lowered his head, pressing his forehead against hers. Feeling her warmth, a faint smile touched his lips.
Yes — love was a violent tyrant that trampled over his carefully structured life. Yet when he felt Serret’s warmth like this, he couldn’t help wanting to surrender to it completely.
So, Serret…
“Don’t hold on to foolish hopes of escaping me,” he whispered.
You will rule my life forever — whether you wish to or not.
Serret was grateful that the black veil on her hat hid her face. At least no one could see her expression.
At the Emperor’s funeral, facing Lydia, it was difficult to control her features. Hiding her emotions, Serret offered her condolences.
“You must be heartbroken, Lydia. I hardly know what to say.”
“Thank you, Serret.”
Lydia’s voice was faint, drained of strength. Her once rosy cheeks were pale, and her downcast eyes had lost all light.
But even seeing her so pitiful, Serret felt no sympathy. Because of you, I lost something precious too. Yuan took my child from me and gave it to you.
“Please take care of yourself,” Serret said, lightly patting Lydia’s shoulder.
With the empty courtesy done, she walked past Lydia toward the Emperor’s coffin.
She picked up one of the flowers set out for offerings and glanced toward Yuan, who was speaking with the Crown Prince in the distance.
She hadn’t seen him since that night.
He looked exhausted, having come to the grand cathedral early that morning for the funeral arrangements.
He was busy, and Serret hadn’t bothered trying to talk to him.
Perhaps sensing her gaze, Yuan turned his head slightly toward her. Before their eyes could meet, Serret quickly looked away, focusing on the Emperor’s still body.
She laid the flower down before the coffin and turned to leave. Though she could feel Yuan’s lingering stare burning into her back, she didn’t look back.
“Don’t hold on to foolish hopes of escaping me.”
His words echoed in her ears.
Did that mean he intended to keep her like livestock — only to bear his child and be discarded afterward?
Behind the veil, Serret’s face filled with fear.
