Captured into the Bedroom of the Enemy Emperor (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 8
Then a fairly loud whistle escaped Patricia’s lips, and a white eagle swiftly descended from the sky at low altitude.
As the great bird’s wings drew near the window, a black shadow suddenly loomed. The vigorous flapping of its wings grew loud, as if it were about to burst through the window.
Startled by the gust, the maids fled toward the inner part of the reception room.
The white eagle alighted on the windowsill.
Patricia stroked the eagle’s head and offered it a piece of roasted chicken. She tied a small roll of paper she’d been holding in her palm to the string fastened around the eagle’s leg and smoothed its feathers.
The terrified maids remained huddled inside the reception room until the eagle, eyes gleaming, finished eating an entire plate of chicken and flew away.
Even after the eagle departed, Patricia sat idly perched on the windowsill.
Having imagined leaping from the window dozens of times, swimming across the moat, and climbing the fortress walls, Patricia complained to the maids that it was uncomfortable not wearing trousers underneath.
“If you have any spare fabric, I’d appreciate it if you could make me a pair of trousers.”
She promised to keep it secret from the Emperor and not wear them in his presence. The maids quickly measured her dimensions with hand spans while she stood before them.
In less than an hour, they swiftly stitched together a simple pair of trousers.
Because of her shackles, she couldn’t pull the trousers over her left leg, so they left the side seam open and added ties. Patricia immediately put them on right in front of the maids.
As a token of gratitude, she performed an impromptu dance she called “The Trousers Dance.” It consisted mostly of wildly kicking her arms and legs into the air.
“Hohoho.”
“Your Highness… you have such an endearing side.”
The maids’ hearts melted at the sight of the princess, who had transformed from a pitiful figure dangling bare-legged from the windowsill like a helpless waif into someone so delightfully playful.
Above all, the princess shone like a golden sun and was breathtakingly beautiful.
[This is the timeline separator]“Har Chen! Har Chen! Har Chen! Har Chen!”
A voice calling out the Emperor’s name echoed before the castle gates. Patricia placed her hands on the windowsill and peered down below.
Emperor Karsik entered through the arched gate astride a massive black warhorse.
He removed his gauntlets and armet. Pushing his thick black hair back from his forehead with his fingers, he lifted his head.
Patricia, forgetting her own predicament, gazed down, utterly captivated by the dazzlingly handsome man even from afar.
She had once longed to witness firsthand the exceptional swordsmanship of that man whom Patrick praised endlessly. Just then, Patrick had been suffering from severe stomach cramps, so Patricia had disguised herself as Patrick and gone to Tane Academy.
It was swordsmanship class. Patrick, frail by nature, only needed to observe the lesson to receive attendance credit. She’d promised him she’d attend as his proxy one last time—all she had to do was sit quietly under the awning.
The Crown Prince’s swordplay was refined. His nimble, restrained movements captivated the eye. With arms and blade precisely calculated, he suppressed his opponent’s sword and dominated the entire space. Not even a hair’s breadth of opening remained.
After disarming his opponent or piercing the pig bladder filled with pig’s blood hanging from the opponent’s waist, Har Chen turned toward Patrick—or rather, Patricia disguised as Patrick—and smirked arrogantly.
Had she fallen for him then?
She had.
She’d fallen for his lean, muscular waist, his boundless vitality, and his handsome face.
At the same time, she despised him—or perhaps it was jealousy.
If gods existed, she wanted to ask: Are you truly just?
By what principle or reason did you burden us with this unwanted curse of being twins?
Had she been conscious within her mother’s womb, she would never have stolen nourishment meant for Patrick.
She stared coldly at Karsik’s Crown Prince—the man who possessed all the vitality and freedom Patrick lacked, all the light she herself had never known—who sat arrogantly as though he owned the entire world.
His brilliance, like Apollo, the god of sun and light, felt utterly loathsome.
Har Chen walked toward the awning, taking a waterskin wrapped in a handkerchief from a lady holding a lace parasol and drinking from it. He sat down beside Patricia and gave her shoulder a casual nudge. His grip was so strong her shoulder jolt sideways.
For someone who had just bested thirteen opponents, his breathing remained perfectly steady.
“Patrick, did you watch well? Only one left.”
The sudden wave of heat and the intense, heavy musk of a man flooded Patricia’s senses, filling her simultaneously with an indescribable emotion and rising irritation.
‘He must have shown this side to Patrick too. Unintentionally flaunting his vitality and radiance.’
“Tane’s swordsmanship is still pitiful. Patrick, let’s finish off one more and head to Poeni Tavern.”
“Isn’t using pig’s blood in bladders a bit too barbaric?”
“What’s this sudden squeamishness? Hey, Patrick—your face looks even paler.”
Just as Har Chen removed his gauntlet and reached out with his bare hand to grasp her cheek, Patricia abruptly stood up from her chair. Flustered by the thick, warm male scent seeping into her with that wave of heat, she shoved Har Chen away.
Without even a word of farewell, Patricia turned and left the outdoor fencing grounds.
*
The Emperor galloped across the drawbridge. He reined in his horse before the main palace building but didn’t dismount, instead lifting his head upward.
His eyes met Patricia’s, who was watching him from the third-floor window. He greeted her by raising his long index and middle fingers diagonally between his eyebrows.
Patricia sharply turned away.
She had fretted over where to receive the Emperor and finally settled, sitting as properly as possible on the reception room sofa.
‘Patricia, pull yourself together.’
The murmur of men’s voices—reports and questions—was followed by the sound of someone rapidly ascending the stairs: thump, thump, thump.
Moments later, the reception room door swung open with a bang.
“We greet Your Imperial Majesty, the undying flame and golden sun of the Empire!”
Two maids chimed their greetings in perfect unison, like clapping hands. Patricia silently inclined her upper body and bowed her head slightly.
“Princess, you didn’t run away?”
“Huh? Oh—no, I mean…”
“I’ll freshen up and come back.”
“What?”
‘Seriously, who needs to be told they’re going to wash up?’
Patricia had braced herself for an interrogation the moment the Emperor arrived, so she was flustered by his unexpected remark. She tried to protest, but the Emperor, seemingly not even hearing her, strode briskly across the reception room.
Waving off the attendants who came to assist him, the Emperor went alone to the dressing room.
Once the butler and maids had left, Patricia carefully folded the trousers they’d made for her and hid them beneath the bedsheet.
Patricia perched on the windowsill, watching intently as soldiers stationed along the ramparts and gates gathered in the courtyard for the shift change.
She estimated how long it would take for guards to descend from each tower, cross the drawbridge, and reach the front gate.
‘It’s enough. I can do it.’
Clenching her fist, she calculated the route down to the moat, its width, and the distance to the spotlight tree. She exhaled deeply and looked up at the sky.
Above the early summer sky, crimson twilight spread. Soon the lake’s surface turned red, and the glow extended even downward.
Click.
The door connecting to the dressing room opened. The Emperor emerged, water dripping from his hair since he hadn’t properly dried it.
As he pressed a towel against his hair, his eyes met Patricia’s, who was glancing at the droplets falling to the floor. He frowned, his expression turning cold.
“I thought the Princess might be waiting.”
‘What? Who said I was waiting?’
Patricia bit back her retort, clenching her lips inward under the tension of his icy gaze. The Emperor had left the sash of his black silk robe untied.
Her eyes caught the deep groove running down the center of his torso, flanked symmetrically by prominent muscles. Flustered, she quickly turned her head away, her cheeks flushing.
Noticing Patricia’s reaction, the Emperor ducked his head. Only then realizing he wasn’t properly dressed, he gritted his teeth.
Har Chen, have you lost your mind?
A knock came from outside. The butler and attendants entered. Just as they began removing dishes from the mobile tray, the Emperor stopped them.
“Move the table right by the window.”
Since the Princess seems fond of windows—he didn’t voice the rest aloud—then returned to the dressing room, drying his hair with the towel.
While issuing orders for the Tane rear expeditionary force at the Tamil Valley barracks and handling imperial affairs, the Emperor had felt inexplicable hostility and been on edge, anger surging within him in fits.
Mounting his warhorse bound for Pana Castle, those turbulent emotions seemed to calm. By the time the castle ramparts came into view, his heart pounded with excitement and anticipation.
His heart had plummeted the moment his eyes met the Princess’s, gazing out the window.
But then a rage he’d never known before erupted at the sight of her coldly turning away.
How dare she show me her back?
Her indifferent, retreating figure poured cold water on his burning heart, making him irritable.
The attendants moved the table to the window and arranged the dishes upon it. The Emperor, now changed into fresh clothes, came to the window and sat in the chair the attendant pulled out for him.
Waiting until the Emperor was seated, the butler pulled out the chair before Patricia.
Patricia turned toward the butler and gave a slight nod of thanks.
“Not knowing Her Highness’s preferences, I prepared a few dishes—though I’m unsure if they’ll please you.”
“Butler, remember—she may be a princess, but she’s also a prisoner.”
The Emperor, who had been glaring intently at Patricia’s faint smile toward the butler, spoke in a cold tone.
“Ah? Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Everyone out.”
The Emperor dismissed even the butler, attendants, and knights who had come to serve the meal.
Patricia tensed at the Emperor’s frigid voice, which seemed to freeze the already thin air, and fastened the top button of her shirt.
The Emperor’s shirt was the same one Patricia wore. Yet it looked utterly different on him.
It fit his broad, powerful shoulders perfectly, clinging tightly to his chest and accentuating every muscular contour. On Patricia, it hung loose and oversized, the shoulder seams drooping down to her forearms.
“Princess, you seem quite at ease.”
Winking at the butler and all.
“Huh?”
The Emperor’s brow furrowed slightly. Patricia opened her mouth to respond but chose silence instead.
‘At ease? How can I possibly feel at ease right now…? Just let time pass quickly… Yes, once I leave here, I’ll never have to see him again.’
She clenched both hands resting on her knees so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms.
“Eat.”
Patricia looked at the extravagantly arranged dishes with mild bewilderment, then tore off a piece of white bread scented with butter and dipped it into the clear soup. She didn’t touch any other dish—this was simply her usual habit.
Watching her with evident disapproval, the Emperor reached forward and took the plate of foie gras before her, cutting off one end and putting it into his own mouth.
“Poison is common in Tane. There’s none in my empire—eat comfortably.”
Male lead Asks for a Divorce Every Day
It’s not often you come across a plot like this in the female-dominant genre — make sure to check it out!
This is a novel I’m planning to reread as well.
The male lead is strong, skilled in martial arts, and not the usual fragile type you often see in matriarchal novels.
Meanwhile, the female lead is a scientist—rational and logical. Even when she falls for the male lead, she doesn’t let her emotions cloud her decisions.
If you push through the first few chapters, you’ll gradually find the story really intriguing.
It has a mix of mystery, detective elements, and romance.
The author’s writing style is like crafting a puzzle—except they deliberately leave out a few pieces, making it hard to predict what happens next, yet keeping you hooked.
In the end, everything will come together and be explained.
One-sentence summary: Wife, stop playing with beakers and look at me!
In a laboratory accident, research scientist Zhu Wansheng accidentally travels to a matriarchal world. The original owner of the body is an eighteen-year-old only daughter of a wealthy rouge merchant, already married with a handsome young man.
Zhu Wansheng grins: Nice! She always said she was heaven’s favorite granddaughter. After a life of toil in her previous life, she can enjoy blessings in this one.
However, her joy lasts no more than three seconds as bad news arrives: the original owner’s family is about to go bankrupt, and her husband wants a divorce.
Even worse, she’s stuck with a research system full of restrictions.
Zhu Wansheng: ? Is this the destiny of a research dog?
——
Faced with this mess, Zhu Wansheng pours herself a bowl of wine to drown her sorrows. In her drunken haze, her husband arrives.
His figure is imposing, holding a long sword, with a dignified air that captivates Zhu Wansheng.
Gu Yingqing, however, looks at the alcohol-reeking Zhu Wansheng with undisguised disgust and coldly asks, “Divorce or not?” The intoxicated Zhu Wansheng mumbles vaguely, “I think… it’s not… it’s not… impossible!”
——
The next day, after sobering up, Zhu Wansheng is full of energy, rolling up her sleeves ready to make a big move. As for yesterday? She has no memory of it.
Zhu Wansheng is ambitious; a research dog fears nothing!
Upgrading rouge, extracting fragrances, producing perfumes, researching lipsticks… all shall bow to the power of modern technology!
The original owner’s dying rouge shop is revitalized. Her mother is pleased and with a wave of her hand, passes on the family business to her. As she takes control and her experimental results gain popularity, it’s the pinnacle of her life…
——
But there are always those who can’t stand to see her doing well. Jealousy, scheming, assassination attempts – they want nothing less than her life.
The person who has always kept his distance from her suddenly holds her tightly in his arms, eyes full of concern.
She is unharmed, but he falls into a pool of blood…
Zhu Wansheng feels guilty, “I can grant you one wish.”
Gu Yingqing tentatively circles his arms around her, carefully resting his head in the crook of her neck, pleading softly, “I regret it. Can we not divorce?”
Zhu Wansheng: ? When did I agree to a divorce?
[Small Theater]
The newly developed rouge is beautifully packaged, and Zhu Wansheng is eager to try it.
Gu Yingqing suddenly appears: “My lady, may I apply it for you?”
Cool fingertips lightly brush her lips. His Adam’s apple bobs as he leans in for a light bite.
Zhu Wansheng: ?
Gu Yingqing: It smells so good, I wanted to taste it…
On a warm spring day, Zhu Wansheng tries a new perfume: “Spring Night.” Gu Yingqing corners her against a wall.
Warm breath lingers on her neck.
“My lady, from now on, may I test the fragrances for you?”
[Humorous female scientist vs scheming live-in son-in-law male lead]
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
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.