I woke before the sun.
Not because of nightmares. Not because of fear, either. Just… awareness. The kind that settles quietly in your chest when you know something important is coming, and no amount of pretending will move it out of the way.
Tea with the Emperor.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the canopy above my bed, tracing familiar patterns with my eyes. I had slept. Properly, even. That alone told me I wasn't panicking—not really. Panic was loud. Messy. This was quieter. Sharper.
I rolled out of bed, muttering under my breath.
"Okay… tea with the Emperor. Calm. Strategic. You've got this. Totally normal. Totally fine."
Survival mode.
I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Cold stone kissed my feet. Good. It grounded me.
What's the goal?
Simple. Act normal. Speak little. Observe everything. Leave with all limbs attached.
I dressed without rushing. Dark clothes, clean lines. Nothing ceremonial. Nothing that screamed I'm here to impress you. If I'd learned anything from this body's memories, it was that excess always drew attention—and attention was rarely safe.
As the servants fastened my coat, my thoughts drifted—annoyingly—back to the illusion.
The truth behind it.
The weight of knowing what this body had endured before I ever arrived. The way Lio had lived inside a lie so convincing that even the world itself had accepted it as reality.
If people knew—
No. I cut the thought off sharply. That path led nowhere useful.
By the time I entered the carriage and rode toward the palace, I'd already rehearsed the encounter three times. Each version ended with me bowing politely and leaving without incident.
Reality, of course, had other plans.
The palace garden pavilion was bathed in soft morning light when I arrived. Birds chirping. Water trickling. Calm. Almost offensively peaceful for a place where power was negotiated with smiles instead of swords.
The Emperor was already there.
No crown. No rigid posture. Just him, leaning back in his chair like he had nowhere else to be.
Think, Lio. Think.
The Emperor was not Darian. There would be no quiet familiarity, no gentle concern hidden behind a stern expression.
His Majesty was a variable. Charming. Unpredictable. And—most importantly—dangerous.
"Duke of the North," the Emperor said lightly, an unreadable smile curving his lips—too charming for someone who ruled an empire. "You did come. Impressive."
I bowed, controlled and precise. "Your Majesty."
"Sit. If you keep standing like that, I'll start feeling guilty."
That… wasn't what I expected.
After a brief pause, I sat.
Tea was poured. Steam curled lazily between us.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then the Emperor said, casually, "The northern harvest reports improved yields this year."
I blinked. That wasn't small talk—but fortunately, I was prepared.
"Yes. We adjusted the irrigation routes near the eastern ridge. Costly at first, but stable in the long term."
"Mm." He nodded. "Smart. And unpopular."
"With the merchants," I agreed. "But the land needed it."
The Emperor smiled, clearly pleased. "You always choose the land over comfort."
I hesitated. "…Someone has to."
A pause. Not awkward. Observant.
We drank in silence.
Then he spoke again. "The North has been quieter lately."
Ah.
"I've been busy," I replied.
"I noticed." He tilted his head slightly. "You redirected supply routes. Reduced tariffs. Removed three governors."
"They were incompetent."
"They were loyal," he corrected gently.
I met his gaze. "Those are not the same thing."
The truth was, they were going to betray me as soon as the saintess arrives. So I needed to get rid of them, the sooner the better
A pause.
Then—unexpectedly—he laughed.
"Oh, I like you," he said. "You say what others soften."
I said nothing. Compliments from emperors were rarely free.
We moved on to land conditions. Infrastructure. Crops. The way the North had been bled dry by politics it never asked for. I spoke plainly, refusing to exaggerate or dramatize.
The Emperor listened.
Really listened.
At some point, I realized I had relaxed without noticing. My shoulders weren't tense anymore. My answers came easily.
That realization unsettled me more than the conversation itself.
"And you?" he asked suddenly. "How are you adjusting?"
There it was. 'He must be asking, if I was adjusting to Lio new life as the duke'
"I'm managing," I said carefully.
"Managing," he repeated. "Such a careful word."
I shrugged. "It works."
He studied me over his cup, eyes thoughtful. "You're not what I expected."
I almost smiled. Almost.
"And what did you expect, Your Majesty?"
"A colder Duke," he said honestly. "Or a crueler one."
"I can still be cruel."
"Oh, I'm sure," he replied lightly. "But you choose not to be."
That landed deeper than I liked.
Silence stretched between us—not uncomfortable, but heavy with things unsaid. The garden rustled softly around us, leaves swaying in the breeze.
Then he leaned back.
"You know," he said casually, "your birthday is approaching."
My stomach tightened. Of course he knew.
"So I've been informed."
"Eighteen," he continued. "An age the empire loves to celebrate."
I stayed silent. I wasn't sure if I could talk about Darian right now because of the kind of relationship they had.
Then, unexpectedly, the Emperor reached out—not fast, not abrupt—and brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face. A simple gesture. Intimate without being improper.
I froze.
He leaned closer, voice low, teasing yet sincere. "You don't need to guard every second with me."
Before I could respond, he pressed a brief kiss to my cheek—light, deliberate, unmistakable.
Then he pulled back as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Consider it an early birthday gift," he said with a smile.
Warmth crept up my face despite myself.
I stood a moment later, composure intact, pulse decidedly not.
"I… thank you for the tea, Your Majesty."
He leaned back, eyes still on me, playful and unreadable all at once.
"Anytime, Duke Lioren."
I left the pavilion, forcing my steps to remain steady. My survival mode had failed—spectacularly—but maybe that was fine. Maybe failing gracefully was a strategy of its own.
Back in my chambers, my thoughts tangled into a mess I couldn't sort through. My birthday. The game. The Saintess. Darian. The Duke. The Emperor. The tea. His hand. His kiss. My plans—every single one of them.
When I finally lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, one realization settled heavily over me.
No matter how carefully I planned, no matter how hard I tried to survive—
This world was going to surprise me.
And terrifying as that was… maybe it wasn't the worst thing.