Captured into the Bedroom of the Enemy Emperor (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 15
The Emperor pulled his body away from the windowsill and walked leisurely toward Julia. Julia kept her head lowered but lifted her eyes.
Her gaze landed on the Emperor’s thigh.
If only she could straddle those firm thighs, close the distance just once, let their bodies touch—she was confident she could proceed to the next stage of seduction.
Julia was desperate to show off the allure of her body, carefully sculpted through diet control and massage.
She’d been impatient since academy days, yet had never revealed it—afraid of appearing ridiculous with clumsy, ineffective overtures.
The Emperor would surely reject her without mercy. After all, once this war concluded, she was to be his officially betrothed bride.
Yet hearing that the Emperor, who until twenty-seven had regarded women like statues, had purchased lady’s toiletries shattered Julia’s world.
For two full days—from the capital to Panaseong—her nerves stretched taut, then shrank, and finally turned pitch black.
The one silver lining was that the enemy commander, now a prisoner of war, had escaped and was no longer in the fortress.
Then again, did that mean the war was truly over? Or would hostilities resume because the prisoner had fled?
Regardless of whether peace had been declared, the Emperor would stay tonight in Panaseong. So perhaps it wasn’t entirely absurd for Julia, his betrothed bride-to-be, to suggest visiting his bedroom.
The Emperor halted directly before her and stood tall.
A chill ran down Julia’s spine at the Emperor’s cold expression—but it was no different from his usual aloof demeanor.
.
.
.
Har Chen understood what those words implied.
On the morning of the campaign’s departure, the Empress Dowager had proposed formally announcing his betrothal to Princess Leac at breakfast, and Har Chen had flatly refused—just as he had decisively rejected her several times before.
His mother, the Empress Dowager, worried deeply because Har Chen showed no interest in women, but Har Chen had rejected Julia specifically because she was Julia.
As children, Har Chen had even found Julia—Carolina’s friend—adorable, chasing after her like a little crow. But then he’d accidentally witnessed her duplicity.
A group of young noble girls happened to gather beneath the oak tree where Har Chen was lounging.
Just as Har Chen was about to make his presence known, a chilling sound—thwack, thwack, thwack—rang out. Julia had struck a girl’s cheek with her fan.
“How dare someone like you gaze upon His Highness the Crown Prince? I told you never to look at him with those filthy eyes!”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I couldn’t help it—His Highness Prince Har Chen was just so beautiful.”
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
“Don’t you ever utter Har Chen’s name with that filthy mouth again. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Oh, dear! But you’ve fallen so hard—your face is badly hurt. Come, let’s go in my carriage.”
That day, a young viscountess suffered a riding accident, and Princess Leac had kindly taken her to the ducal manor for treatment—a heartwarming anecdote Kalip had later shared.
No maids present during a riding lesson among young noble girls? And a fall that left only her face bruised?
Though unintentional, Har Chen couldn’t admit he’d shamefully eavesdropped from the tree above. Still, he was astonished that anyone would believe such an amateurish performance without suspicion.
“Kalip. I’m aware of Princess Leac’s duplicity, so don’t report those ridiculous tales to me anymore.”
“Your Highness, your strong reaction to Princess Leac’s anecdotes almost seems… uh… defensive?”
Har Chen’s face flushed crimson.
“She announced that the doll-like, lovely princess will become Your Highness’s bride. Isn’t that sweet? Oh, Your Highness—why, you’re even blushing!”
“No. I’m serious.”
“Yes, yes. Your Highness is always serious and cautious.”
Even during their days at Tane Academy, Kalip seized every opportunity to link the Emperor and the princess together—relentlessly, tirelessly.
And just now, while walking down the corridor after hearing from his steward that Princess Leac waited in the reception room, Har Chen encountered two maids who should have been confined in the dungeon.
The maids bowed so deeply their heads nearly touched their waists, hands pressed to their cheeks, and tried to pass him without a word.
“Halt.”
Har Chen turned around and stepped before them.
“Lower your hands.”
Their cheeks were a gruesome sight—swollen, scraped with metal fragments, gouged, and smeared with dried blood.
Har Chen ordered the steward to take them to the army physician for treatment.
*
Julia lifted her chin and lowered her eyes intently—a posture Lena had assured her looked alluring and enchanting.
He wants me in his bedroom tonight? How shameless.
“Why?”
At Har Chen’s question, Julia’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What?”
“Don’t ask questions. Just answer.”
“Your Majesty… don’t you understand? The feelings that drove me here? The resolve that brought me alone, without any companions?”
Julia bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. She swallowed both the metallic taste and a stifled cry.
Tears welled in Julia’s onyx-black eyes, spilling over to trace down her pale cheeks.
“Tonight, Your Majesty, I offer myself…”
“Princess. That fan of yours is rather unusual. My maids’ cheeks bore deep metal scratches. Have you nothing to say?”
“Huh? I—I don’t know anything about that… Were the maids injured?”
“…Ha.”
Har Chen rang the bell. The steward entered immediately.
“Steward, see her out.”
Har Chen spoke coldly and left the reception room.
He moved toward the window-side table instead of the sitting-room sofa and took a seat. Kalip and the steward followed in and stood side by side.
“Well?”
Kalip stepped forward, noticing the steward remained silent.
“Your Majesty, dinner will soon be served, and it’s too late to depart for the capital today. Perhaps delay departure until tomorrow…”
“Kalip. Clear that carriage away within ten minutes.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
Kalip bent his right arm and bowed with a stiff expression.
The steward glanced at the Emperor and asked cautiously, “Shall I have dinner served here, Your Majesty?”
“Something light. And draw a bath first.”
As Har Chen unbuttoned his uniform, a valet nearby helped him remove it. Har Chen walked toward the dressing room but turned and called the steward.
“Didn’t I say not to touch my bedroom this morning?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Per your orders, we didn’t even change the sheets.”
“Good.”
Har Chen intended to relax in the bath at a comfortable temperature, but things didn’t go as planned.
The water scalded his skin; it felt as if a hot stone pressed against his chest. Restless and inexplicably furious, he recalled Patricia’s indifferent face the moment he’d received Emperor Kazan’s proposal letter.
Perhaps she might reject the political marriage. She might even have a lover.
For instance… the brat who helped her escape.
Instantly, his mind went blank, and his expression changed drastically.
Yes, I’ve kissed before. But it meant nothing… just a fleeting moment for me, like the wind.
He clenched his fist tightly underwater.
Patricia. Whether you like it or not, this marriage will happen.
I’ll keep you by my side for life—make you bitterly regret ever toying with me.
Never in his life had anyone irritated him this much.
Har Chen couldn’t sit for even five minutes before rising. A valet dried him and helped him into a black robe. He walked down the corridor and entered his bedroom.
He lay on the bed. Her faint scent lingered.
The softness of her lips against his flashed vividly in his mind. Recalling the feel of her hand slipping beneath his collar sent a shiver through him.
He was going mad. He moved to the right side—the spot where Patricia had lain—and lay down.
As he tried burying his face in the pillow, he spotted a single, sunlit strand of hair. He placed it against his bare chest.
Just that single strand touching his skin…
He leaped up and strode to the window, throwing it open.
His chest burned as if set ablaze.
Patricia. Come quickly. Just come. I’ll bind your hands to the bed and do exactly as I please… Damn it.
“Fucking bastard.”
*
“…Ha, Your Majesty.”
Har Chen opened his eyes to see Kalip standing there.
“What.”
“Dinner’s here. The steward said to wake you after calling three times. Should I let you sleep longer?”
“I’m up.”
The steward stood by the window-side table, having already set the dishes, waiting. Har Chen sat down.
The steward extinguished the solid fuel beneath the double-boiler and placed a warm clam chowder before the Emperor.
“My Lord, Princess Leac departed for the capital a while ago.”
Har Chen drank water and ate his soup in silence. A gentle warmth seemed to steadily fill his insides.
“Steward, how are the maids?”
“They’ve finished treatment and are resting in their quarters, as instructed.”
“Well done. Kalip, go fetch them.”
“Me?”
Kalip glanced at the steward, as if such a task clearly belonged to him. The steward calmly spooned salad onto a plate, hands clasped behind his back.
“Kalip. Was that a real question? Are you still a toddler?”
Kalip bowed to the Emperor and exited, clicking his tongue inwardly.
‘“Are you still a toddler?” What era does that phrase even come from?’
Yet a nagging sense of déjà vu lingered—he frowned, unable to recall the source. He asked a servant for directions and headed to the maids’ quarters.
Kalip gasped when he saw through the open door after knocking.
Their cheeks were now swollen even more, bruised deep blue like moldy bread.
“What happened to your faces?”
The maids kept their lips tightly shut all the way to the reception room, as if they hadn’t heard Kalip’s question.
When they arrived, the Emperor had finished eating and was sipping Panian tea. The maids bowed in unison.
“Kalip, have you identified who did this to the maids?”
“No. I asked them on the way, but they wouldn’t answer.”
“That’s how noble tyranny gets concealed.”
“Ah! Could it be… Your Majesty, Princess Leac?”
The Emperor gave neither confirmation nor denial, maintaining his usual cold expression as he dismissed them.
“Kalip and steward, leave.”
Recalling Princess Leac, Kalip suddenly remembered his old question to the Crown Prince: “Are you being defensive?”
Digging further back to the young Count Kipling’s riding accident, Kalip swallowed hard.
‘So… my lord has known about Princess Julia’s cruelty all along.’
‘Impressive. And holding a grudge too, huh?’
Kalip knelt on his left knee before his vengeful lord and bowed his head.
“My Lord, have a peaceful night.”
Once Kalip and the steward left, Har Chen invited the maids to sit. He offered them tea and snacks the steward had prepared.
Har Chen walked over to the windowsill where Patricia had perched, leaning against it as he gazed up at the fortress walls and the sky.
“From the very first moment you saw the princess that day—tell me everything in detail.”
The maids lifted their blood-crusted cheeks and looked up at the ceiling, taking turns speaking.
“At first, she barely acknowledged our greeting. She just held out her bound wrists and asked us to untie them.”
“I see.”
“When we entered the bath, she couldn’t remove her shirt because her wrists were tied. All the buttons were undone already.”
“Right—because we never untied her wrists. After some thought, Her Highness asked us to cut her clothes with scissors.”
“Hmm.”
The maids meticulously recounted every detail since meeting the princess.
“A white eagle with a yellow beak swooped down at terrifying speed. We shrank back in fear, but Her Highness fearlessly reached out to touch it.”
“She touched it, huh.”
Not touched—it was the letter, or more precisely, the escape plan tied to the eagle. So she’d been communicating with an accomplice through the bird. Princess, what shall I do to you when we meet again? You’ll pay dearly for mocking me.
Har Chen smiled faintly as he watched the torches along the fortress wall burn fiercely.
This political marriage… I’m actually looking forward to it. Exciting.
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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Re-reading this chapter, it made realize how little Patricia regarding her life compared to Patrick, all because of her guilt over her twin’s sickness which she assumed caused by her taking away his nutrition during pregnancy (in my opinion, it’s an entirely absurd superstition and baseless theory at best). Glad Patricia has come far by started relying in Harchen until she can trust him and vice versa.
Oh! Harcen made a surf board and have Patricia surfing at the sea? That’s so nice of him! If I were her, I too would be thrilled as I riding the waves.
Could it be the grave with the red hibiscus is the late Empress’ (a.k.a Patricia and Patrick’s mom) grave? Talk about cutting onion.