Captured into the Bedroom of the Enemy Emperor (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 3
Eva clasped her hands together respectfully and spoke in a low voice.
“The Empress’s childbirth must set a precedent to break through these backward prejudices.”
“So you want me and my children put on display for the world to gawk at?”
“Then I shall take the infant princess to the Kingdom of Torun myself.”
Aldisha briefly pondered those words but quickly shook her head. She needed the child close by, hidden in plain sight, lest anything happen to the Crown Prince.
“Since you’re so unpleasant to look at, stay with your family until I give birth.”
Thanks to that order, Eva was absent from the scene of slaughter following Emperor Kazan’s childbirth—and thus survived.
Only the Empress, the Emperor, and Eva knew that Patricia was a twin.
The knights and maidservants guarding the detached palace only realized Patricia’s existence as the “Shadow Princess” when they saw her walking through the West Tower garden.
“She’s afflicted with a terrible illness,” “Her beautiful face turns monstrous at night,” “She’s not the Emperor’s daughter”—they’d whisper among themselves, then suddenly panic, remembering the solemn oath: reveal anything about the West Tower, and forfeit your life.
Once a year, twice at most, the Emperor received reports from the knights about the detached palace. He had never visited it himself.
Only the Empress, the Emperor, a few knights guarding the detached palace, and some maidservants knew of the young lady’s existence.
*
Patricia learned Patrick’s reading preferences, favorite foods, and habits. Meanwhile, Patrick remained entirely unaware of her existence.
At thirteen, Patrick climbed the West Tower with his squire, Eden, and encountered Patricia practicing swordplay.
Patricia recognized Patrick instantly. Longing for her blood relative, affection nurtured toward an imagined figure.
Jealousy toward him, who monopolized their mother’s love and care, mingled with guilt over her own frail body. Many emotions tangled within her.
She tried to hide her joy and keep her distance, but Patrick kept returning to the West Tower.
Like pigments of the same hue blending together, they naturally gravitated toward each other and formed a uniquely close bond. Thereafter, the three of them secretly met beyond the watchful eyes of the West Tower guards, racing through the forest and picnicking by the lakeside.
Patrick and Eden came and went from the West Tower as freely as the wind.
Yet even invisible wind cannot be perfectly concealed when it rustles. Empress Pamila’s agents tailed an unsuspecting Patrick.
In the West Tower garden, before Patricia who swung her sword, stood a woman with long, wavy red hair reaching her waist. The woman crossed her arms, bent her slender waist slightly, and smiled as she slowly scanned Patricia’s figure.
“Oh my, child, tell me your name.”
A chilling coldness seeped through Pamila’s smile.
She clenched her fists and ground her teeth. Seeing with her own eyes what her subordinate had reported—something she’d found unbelievable—sent her into a rage.
Unlike the sickly Crown Prince Patrick, this girl had lustrous golden hair, a vibrant expression, and a lithe, agile stance as she wielded her sword.
She twisted the corner of her trembling lips in a strange, cruel way.
“Tell me your full name.”
Malice slithered up Patricia’s spine.
Without answering, Patricia swiftly crossed the garden and ran up to the top of the West Tower.
“Eva, I met Empress Pamila.”
The woman with red hair, delicate features, and elaborate attire matched exactly what Eva had imagined upon hearing descriptions. She recognized her instantly.
Crown Princess. Pamila ground her teeth.
At a glance, she was clearly the Emperor’s daughter—identical to Patrick as if reflected in a mirror.
She had been certain that eliminating Patrick alone would make her son Chris the Crown Prince. But seeing Patricia—whose entire head shimmered like she wore a golden crown—forced her to revise her plan.
Pamila ordered her subordinates to investigate the reasons behind the Shadow Princess’s confinement in the West Tower and the massacre following Empress Aldisha’s childbirth.
They confirmed that Amir of the Hoon Tribe—the sole priestess who had delivered the oracle—had escaped, tongue and eyes removed.
Pamila commanded her agents to search every deep mountain and underground cavern of the empire to find Amir. She also rearranged the sequence of her plotted schemes.
Using the pretext of paying a formal visit to the Empress, Pamila went to the detached palace.
Not long after Pamila’s visits began, the Empress’s complexion turned green. After suffering high fever and hemorrhaging, death finally claimed Empress Aldisha on a day of heavy rain.
Even after the Empress’s passing, Emperor Kazan ordered the Crown Prince to lead a military campaign.
When thirteen-year-old Patricia observed her first battle, Eden immediately noticed that the figure in silver armor was not Patrick.
Emperor Kazan, too, scrutinized the two in an instant and frowned deeply.
After crossing the western border of Tane and entering the lands of the Turk Kingdom, Emperor Kazan summoned the Crown Prince and Eden to his tent and ordered them to duel with swords.
The Emperor glared fiercely at Patricia, who swung her sword clad in silver armor. Though the duel remained undecided, he raised his hand to stop it and first dismissed the Crown Prince.
Once Patricia left, the Emperor ordered Eden to approach.
Eden knelt on his left knee before the Emperor’s feet and lowered his head. The Emperor reached out and gripped Eden’s neck tightly.
“Speak what you know.”
“Eden Patterson humbly reports: last summer, by chance, His Highness the Crown Prince and I visited the West Tower and met Her Highness the Princess.”
“By chance… you went to the West Tower?”
The Emperor felt contempt toward the Empress, who during the four years he’d granted her through desperate pleading, had resorted to such shallow schemes. Hatred and loathing boiled within his chest.
The Emperor executed all six knights guarding the West Tower and hung their corpses on the inner wall of the detached palace for ten days.
It was a brutal warning to everyone within the palace grounds. Eva, returning from the main palace to fetch supplies, saw the gruesome sight and turned pale with shock.
Eva placed a small cot in Patricia’s bedroom and guarded her relentlessly.
The Emperor granted the newly appointed West Tower knights special allowances—but first cut out their tongues to enforce a vow of silence.
In his dimly lit tent, the Emperor brooded deeply.
The Crown Prince Patrick’s first sword. Even as the Emperor’s strong hand gripped his throat, the boy’s eyes remained calm, unafraid.
Beneath platinum hair, crimson eyes concealed turbulent emotions—too valuable a talent to silence with a vow.
The Emperor drew a dagger from his belt and handed it to Eden. It was a rondel dagger with a platinum hilt set with a green emerald.
“If ever she’s in danger of exposure, eliminate her first.”
“Y-Your Majesty…!”
What is Princess Patricia to you, Your Majesty? Merely a replacement for His Highness Patrick? A puppet made of metal? Is there not even a grain of familial affection in your heart?
That moment marked when Eden Patterson first kindled the spark of rebellion against Emperor Kazan.
After the Empress’s death, Eva and Patrick opposed Patricia’s participation in war. But Patricia could not break her promise to her mother—to aid Patrick’s ascension to the throne.
Before meeting Patrick, Patricia had regarded the Empress as her only family. Yet the Empress had always treated her coldly and strictly.
But one day, the Empress entered Patricia’s room, gazed silently at her sleeping form for a long time, then shed tears. Patricia woke up—but couldn’t open her eyes.
“I’m sorry, my child, Patricia.”
Her mother’s tears, falling onto her cheek, burned as hot as molten wax.
Though distant, before meeting Patrick, the Empress had been Patricia’s only family.
Whenever Patricia went to war, Eva locked herself in her room, gritting her teeth in silent anguish. But as soon as she heard the drums announcing victory and return, Eva would invariably stand leaning against the West Tower wall.
Clad in armor, Patricia would rush over and embrace Eva, who had grown as thin as a willow branch.
Empress Pamila’s death and Patrick’s succession to the throne—these were their shared goals.
“Eva, afterward, let’s go to the seaside Kingdom of Torun, where Mother is buried. We’ll find a small house by the sea and live together.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll cook you seafood dishes with that vivid blue seawater.”
Eva’s fish dishes would lighten not only the palate but also the heart—and even the soul.
Fortunately, around that time, a peace treaty was signed between warmongering Emperor Kazan and the Karsik Empire of the Arkhan continent, along with other kingdoms.
Patricia no longer had to join wars. Her hair had already grown down to her waist.
And Patrick formed a close friendship with Har Chen, the Crown Prince of Karsik, who had come to Tane Academy as an exchange student.
“You’re the best—the most splendid and handsome person I’ve ever met.”
“Better than me?”
“You have a different charm from Lisha… No, you’re the best man I’ve ever met.”
Patricia’s initial feelings toward the Karsik Crown Prince were jealousy.
But after hearing endless praise of him until her ears ached, her jealousy dissolved like salt in water—and curiosity took its place.
One day, at the Poeni tavern, seeing Har Chen with a cigar in his mouth, arm slung over someone’s shoulder, stomping his feet and singing, struck her as if he’d just downed a shot of Atrajan.
Since infancy, Patrick had been fed rare delicacies as tonics: animal horns, shark fins, crustacean innards, peeled snake meat, exotic tree roots and barks, mushrooms, and more.
Though still slender and frail in appearance, his internal organs had grown healthier by adulthood, and his body ran hot.
With his naturally passionate and tenacious temperament, he’d lock himself in his room for days, devouring every book he could find, then head to the Poeni tavern to spend nights drinking and smoking with Har Chen.
Early in the academy term, he feigned illness—claiming dizziness caused fainting—to skip classes, earning concern and worry from professors.
But before the semester ended, rumors spread widely that the two imperial crown princes were regulars at the Poeni tavern. Professors could no longer excuse Patrick’s absences as illness.
After heavy drinking, Patrick would ask Patricia to attend classes in his place the next day.
One such day, dressed in Patrick’s clothes and heading to the academy, she met Har Chen.
Her first impression: arrogant.
*
Patricia cut her long golden hair, which had reached her waist.
“No! Why did you cut your hair exactly like His Highness? Now I’ll get confused—right, Your Highness?”
“Eva, it’s me—Patrick.”
“Oh! Your Highness the Crown Prince? I thought you were Princess Lisha.”
“Your Highness. Then… are you not practicing swordplay today?”
Eden nonchalantly cut in. Eva rubbed her eyes with hands that suddenly looked steadier and asked again.
“Huh? You’re not His Highness the Crown Prince?”
Even the West Tower guards—and nurse Eva herself—got confused, but Eden, Patrick’s knight, distinguished the twins like a ghost.
“How have you never mixed them up even once?”
“Just like that.”
Eden claimed it was intuition—and indeed, he’d never mistaken one for the other even once.
Patricia wore Patrick’s clothes, gathered his books, notebooks, and writing tools, and headed to the academy.
The academy grounds were vivid, as if painted: majestic marble buildings, harmoniously arranged gardens with well-tended flowers and trees.
Sunlight fell evenly upon the heads of students sitting on clean grass, reading books.
Patricia’s eyes sparkled as she surveyed the campus, then hugged her stack of books tightly, overwhelmed with emotion.
Since Har Chen was in a different year, Patricia initially avoided him carefully. But once, after a lecture ended, she found him standing in the corridor.
Ah—so that’s the Karsik Crown Prince.
She recognized him instantly.
He stood tall like a solitary towering tree.
Beside him, three noble ladies stood with hands clasped, gazing up at him admiringly.
Patricia lowered her head as if avoiding the sunlight streaming through the corridor window and walked past.
“We’ll adjust our schedule to match Your Highness’s.”
“What? Don’t you understand? Even if I have time, I won’t go.”
“Y-Your Highness… please reconsider once more…”
Har Chen stood squarely in the middle of the corridor, arms crossed, blocking Patricia’s path.
“Hey, Patrick—been busy lately?”
Patricia looked up. The man’s solid, immovable shoulders and ironclad presence still struck her as arrogant upon second glance.
His face—smooth as polished plaster, sharply chiseled—was flawless: straight nose cleanly honed, long eyes beneath thick brows, green irises, and lips curled in a haughty smile.
“Patrick. Still hungover? Why are you staring so blankly? Admit it—you’re handsome no matter how long you look.”
Appearance, personality, demeanor—Patrick had recited them endlessly. Yet there’d been no mention of his voice.
His rich baritone was magnificent—it didn’t merely reach the ears but struck the chest directly, making her heart thud.
“Let’s go to the Poeni tavern. I want to hear you recite poetry.”
Without a word, Patricia abruptly turned away. Anger surged within her for no clear reason.
At first, she’d covered for him due to his drunkenness; next, at Patrick’s earnest request to showcase the Crown Prince’s sword skills, she’d attended a sword lesson after promising it would be the last time.
But near graduation, just as Patrick seemed to be regaining his health, he grew frail once more.
Sudden, wrenching chest pains struck frequently. After violent episodes, dizziness followed. Each recurrence left Patrick utterly drained.
The palace physicians said his congenital illness had relapsed and his lung function had deteriorated.
With the semester ending, Patricia had no choice but to attend the academy in Patrick’s stead, taking exams and submitting assignments. When final exams concluded, Har Chen announced he would graduate and return to his empire.
Tane Academy’s graduation banquet lasted three days. Neither Patrick nor Patricia attended.
The final night was a masked ball.
Male lead says he’s pregnant — and it’s female lead’s child
Something seems a bit off about this world.
Wang Zhao thought as she watched a pregnant man walking towards her…
Intro
Female lead finds herself in a world where the men who possess the ability to bear children.
As she navigates this unfamiliar reality, she is caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her boyfriend, who reveals that he is pregnant.
Is this truly her boyfriend?
Why can’t she recall any details about their time together?
She begins to doubt whether the child her boyfriend is carrying is even hers.
Is there a hidden reason behind her amnesia, or could it be a side effect of her sudden arrival in this strange new world?
Just when it seems the protagonist’s life couldn’t become any more entangled, her ex-boyfriend makes an unexpected appearance, raising questions about the protagonist’s past.
__________
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Chapter Comments (9)
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.
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Lili lady
Wow, what a complicated family—they’re exhausting.