Chapter 5: A Disturbing Turn of Events

She beheld a gleaming, razor-sharp blade glinting through the shroud of darkness. The emperor, with an unexpected swiftness, produced a menacing dagger from an unknown source.

Is he going to end my life now?

Despite her past desires for an end to her existence, fear still gripped Cecile in the face of imminent death. The emperor's movements resembled a flash of lightning as Cecile attempted to scream, but before she could comprehend the situation, everything unfolded in a blur. Cecile found herself hurtling through the air, along with the bedsheet, while the emperor's dagger was forcefully propelled away.

“Aagh!!”

“Ghah!” In an unintentional harmony, Cecile's piercing scream intertwined with a voice that did not belong to the emperor. Colliding with the carpet, Cecile lay there, her eyes blinking in disbelief. When she turned her head, a shrill scream escaped her lips. “Ahhhhhhhhh!”

Her gaze fell upon a man with a dagger lodged precisely at the center of his throat, his eyes fiercely locked on her. Blood spurted from the man's grievous wound.

"M-must... complete the mission..." Despite the severity of the vital wound, the man's life force refused to wane. "Must eliminate Princess Cecile..."

The gurgling man raised his hand into the air, clutching a dagger as sharp as the one lodged in his throat. The lethal weapon was pointed directly at Cecile. Overwhelmed by terror, she found herself incapable of evading; instead, she helplessly fixated her gaze upon the approaching blade.

I am destined to perish. But why me and not the emperor?

Wouldn't it be logical to target the emperor instead?

Why am I the chosen victim when I have committed no wrong?

Her mind became a swirling maelstrom of thoughts, yet none of them managed to escape her lips.

Thwack!

Just as the dagger neared her forehead, the man's body was forcefully propelled away, accompanied by a dull impact. Simultaneously, his grip relinquished the dagger, which clattered to the floor.

"You dare..."

A low growl, infused with anger, reached Cecile's ears. Realizing the source of the voice, she understood that the emperor had intervened.

The emperor just saved my life, didn't he?

Not only had he tossed her off the bed to safety, but he had also expelled the assailant through a swift kick. Undoubtedly, the emperor was attempting to protect her. Now, he retrieved more daggers from his belt and skillfully hurled them towards the wall. Cecile lay prone on the floor, trembling, as she observed the unfolding spectacle. While she had relished such exhilarating situations within the pages of novels, experiencing it firsthand made her vow to never endure such a harrowing ordeal again.

Thwok! Thwok! Thwok!

Witnessing the daggers embedding themselves into the wall was astonishing enough, yet the reverberating explosive sounds upon impact were even more astounding. The handles of the daggers trembled, their blades penetrating the wall with unwavering determination. Even before the blades settled, dark red stains began to seep around their edges. Cecile soon discerned the crimson hue of blood. There could be no presence of pigs or cows within this space; the only plausible source was human blood.

Were people concealed in there?

What in the world was happening within this imperial palace? How could individuals hide in such concealed spaces? Meanwhile, the emperor approached the wall and delivered a forceful kick, causing it to collapse with a resounding crash. Slowly toppling forward, what had been concealed behind it was revealed—an exposed corpse. A lifeless body with a dagger embedded squarely in its forehead.

"So, this is the extent of their numbers. They sent fewer than anticipated," the emperor muttered.

Fewer? There lay a corpse on the floor, and three daggers were lodged in the wall. A total of four assassins, yet he claims it is fewer than expected?

Cecile held her breath as the emperor returned to his seat on the bed. Her mind raced, contemplating her next move. Should she acknowledge his heroic actions and take her leave? Or was it her responsibility to remove the lifeless bodies strewn about? Her gaze remained fixed on the corpses, rendering her immobile. Suddenly, the emperor rose from his seat and approached one of the fallen assassins, effortlessly lifting him by the scruff. He handled the assassin's larger frame as if it were a mere doll, promptly flinging the body out of the window.

So the rumors of his Herculean strength are true.

She had not anticipated confirming such tales about the emperor through this gruesome act. Some time after the emperor disposed of the corpse with a casual throw, a distant splash reverberated, signifying its heavy descent into the water. The emperor proceeded with the same routine, resulting in three subsequent splashes. Each of the assassins' lifeless forms had been expelled from the premises.

"Clean, just the way I prefer it," the emperor muttered to himself, brushing off his hands.

Meanwhile, Cecile observed the shattered wall and the pooling blood, itching to question, “In what manner do you define clean?”

Seating himself in a chair beside the table, the emperor beckoned Cecile, "Come here and sit."

"Yessir!"

Cecile darted forward like an obedient puppy, gracefully kneeling before him. However, her actions elicited a frown from the emperor. Observing his expression, Cecile lowered her forehead to the floor with an audible thud, speaking, "I apologize. I displayed impudence by holding my head high. Please forgive my insolence."

Gone were her thoughts of wishing for death. Witnessing a person's life extinguished before her eyes had jolted Cecile back to reality. She no longer wished to depart this room in the same manner as those lifeless bodies. Floating alongside them was an outcome she vehemently opposed.

I should have obediently complied!

Revenge? Such notions were futile now. Though she was painfully aware of her tardiness in acknowledging it, she was still alive, and she felt an indomitable urge to persevere. Cecile remained motionless, her forehead pressed against the ground, her mind racing with thoughts, until a displeased voice resonated from above.

"What an unpleasant sight."

"I humbly seek your forgiveness. Might I lower myself a little?" With those words, Cecile pressed her limbs tightly against the floor. The delicate hem of the dress, adorned by the attendants, unraveled swiftly, revealing her bare chest grazing against the ground, her thighs exposed. However, at that moment, she paid no mind to such matters.

"To clarify..."

She faintly heard a sigh. The sound compelled Cecile to contemplate how she could flatten herself even further.

Should I press my face against the carpet?

The emperor rose to his feet with a deep sigh. With his strong arms, he effortlessly lifted Cecile by the waist, causing her to exclaim in surprise and tense up. Her mind replayed the image of lifeless bodies being tossed out the window. Could it be that he intended to fling her out while still alive? Contrary to Cecile's fearful imagination, the emperor gently placed her on the chair opposite him.

Isn't this reminiscent of when he carried me before the wedding?

Before she could ponder the emperor's intentions, he picked up the discarded bedsheet from the floor and draped it around Cecile.

"Much improved," muttered the emperor, satisfied with the sight of Cecile swathed like a caterpillar.

Do I appear that much worse for wear? she wondered. Then why did he leave my face exposed, while covering the rest as if he didn't wish to see it?

"Now, ready for a conversation. Your recent condition... was not conducive to discussion, you see."

"When you say conversation..."

"Indeed. A conversation where I inquire and you respond."

Isn't that typically called an interrogation? Cecile pushed the thought aside and nodded fervently. For the time being, she needed to be obedient.

* * *

Estian gazed at Cecile, cocooned in white fabric. He couldn't help but wonder if this terrified person before him was the same woman who had made audacious requests prior to the wedding. Estian observed her restless eyes, filled with apparent nervousness, and then noticed the swelling on Cecile's forehead.

How utterly fragile.

The reddish tint on the swelling indicated that she would wake up the next morning with a painful bruise and a lump. Discomfort surged within him at the thought, and he muttered, "Perhaps I should have severed their heads before discarding them."

Cecile gasped softly at his remark, curling up apprehensively within the bedsheets.

"That looks agonizing."

Earlier, he had intentionally massaged Cecile's shoulders and neck to deceive the assassins. He noticed the tension in her muscles, likely a result of fear, and focused his attention on those areas. As he had anticipated, moans escaped her lips.

"Haugh!"

At that moment, Cecile failed to realize that when she moaned, Estian's body had involuntarily flinched. An indescribable, ambiguous sensation had washed over him. Was it due to the softness of the skin beneath his calloused hands? Furthermore, Cecile had been adorned by the attendants for their wedding night, emanating a subtle fragrance from her hair each time she tossed and turned in pain.

I have never been fond of perfume, and yet...

Estian had always harbored an aversion to perfume. Such fragrances dulled the senses. As someone who needed to be constantly vigilant of his surroundings, they were things he actively avoided. Estian adjusted his hands and continued his massage. Having experienced countless battles and bloodshed in his life, he possessed knowledge of muscle locations and their movements. Utilizing this knowledge, he skillfully targeted the areas that would alleviate Cecile's pain the most. Once again, moans escaped her.

Beyond the walls of the room, he sensed a hidden movement. It was evident that the sounds of heavy breathing and moaning had led them to believe that the couple inside the room were engaged in amorous activities. He had been waiting for them to make a move, yet he found their intrusion far from welcome.

If it weren't for those fools, then at this very moment...

Contemplating up to that point, Estian found himself surprised by his own thoughts. If there had been no assassins? What then? He glanced down at Cecile, panting beneath him. Moans escaped her lips as her body contorted and writhed from the pressure on her most sensitive spots. Her clothes were disheveled, and her breathing grew intense. Tears lingered at the corners of her slightly reddened eyes.

Her golden locks cascaded across the bed, shimmering in the dimly lit room, while her watery green eyes resembled glistening crystals under the lamplight. Estian couldn't tear his eyes away from her as he pondered who this woman truly was.

She was the woman who had journeyed from a distant land to become his wife. His lifelong companion, as ordained by the pontiff's vows. In that moment, for the first time in a long while, he felt a rush of blood to his face. Something, he thought, is awry.