Captured into the Bedroom of the Enemy Emperor (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 9
He placed the plate back in front of Patricia.
‘Ah. He must have mistaken her refusal to eat as fear of poison in the food.’
After all, Patrick had said he couldn’t even taste the food served in Tane Palace due to constant anxiety—maids tasting the dishes often collapsed right on the spot.
Recently, Patrick claimed he used an Argentum rod to test his meals before eating. Of course, Patricia had never been invited to a banquet at Tane Palace, so she’d never experienced it herself.
Since the Emperor himself had already tasted the dish, she couldn’t refuse. Patricia cut a small piece of foie gras. Due to her mother’s strict diet, she’d rarely eaten meat. Unaccustomed to it, she neither appreciated its rich flavor nor particularly liked it.
Out of courtesy, she placed a small piece of the dark meat into her mouth. She was startled by the delicate savoriness of the juices and the melt-in-your-mouth tenderness. A smile involuntarily spread across her lips.
The Emperor raised his pewter goblet, circling it gently with his wrist, and watched her intently. When he saw her faint smile, he brought the goblet to his lips, swallowing the smile that threatened to surface on his own face.
Patricia wished to finish her meal quickly and retreat to a place of solitude. She fervently hoped this evening and night would pass without incident and that dawn would come swiftly. Anxiously, her eyes flicked toward the clock resting on the console table in the drawing room.
She nibbled slowly on scallops roasted in truffle butter and a bit of salmon salad.
The food was exquisite—so good it melted on her tongue—and for the first time in her life, no one scolded her about calories. Yet her mind remained preoccupied, busily reviewing her plans.
She took a sip of water and neatly set her used cutlery down.
Interpreting this as a sign she had finished her meal, the Emperor rang a bell. After the servants cleared the table, the butler brought in tea and a dessert plate.
Patricia, who had been gazing at the darkness settling layer by layer over the crimson sky, looked down at the dessert placed before her. Her sapphire eyes widened in surprise, unable to tear her gaze away from the plate.
It was a chocolate cake, shaped with cocoa cream, topped with a cherry dusted in chocolate and gold leaf.
‘Now isn’t the time to get distracted by cake… No, I should eat and gather strength.’
Struggling to suppress her emotions, she lifted a bite of cake with her dessert fork.
It melted instantly on her tongue, sweet enough to send chills down her spine. It was the first cake she’d ever tasted.
Even if the large, cold-faced Emperor sitting opposite her drew his sword and held it to her throat, she couldn’t possibly give up this flavor.
As her composure faltered, she used her fork to lift the cherry that had dropped onto the plate and popped it into her mouth. She rolled the slippery fruit on her tongue before chewing.
Patricia instinctively closed her eyes, then opened them again with quiet delight, marveling at the cake’s exquisite taste. Only then did she notice the Emperor staring intently at her, his pewter goblet pressed to his lips.
The Emperor leaned slightly to one side, his elbow resting on the arm of his chair, rubbing his lips with his thumb as he watched her.
His dark green eyes pierced through her, as if seeing straight into her soul.
For a fleeting moment, their gazes locked—his deep emerald eyes, filled with something almost magical—and she felt as though her soul were being sucked in.
Uncomfortable under his sharp gaze, Patricia bit gently on the corner of her lip and lowered her eyes. Her long, pale neck quivered slightly, as if she’d swallowed sweet poison.
“Princess.”
Patricia lifted her head.
“I’m about to interrogate you as a prisoner. But first, there’s something I’d like to confirm.”
“Yes.”
“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
A cool early-summer breeze blew through.
The candles in the ornate five-branched golden candelabra lit by the butler flickered in the wind before settling into a steady, quiet burn.
Patricia took a slow breath, calming her trembling chest. She straightened her spine, sat upright, and met the Emperor’s gaze naturally. In a composed voice, she replied,
“No, Your Majesty. I saw you for the first time yesterday.”
“Is that so? Then why do I feel as though I’ve seen you before?”
The Emperor rose from his seat, placed one hand on the table, and leaned toward her, bringing his face close.
“May I verify it?”
‘…Could he possibly be recalling the academy graduation banquet?’
Patricia nervously bit the inside of her lip.
Slowly, the Emperor reached out his large hand and touched her cheek. Startled by the sudden warmth, Patricia instinctively leaned back.
“Your Majesty, please maintain proper decorum.”
Haa.
The Emperor ran his withdrawn hand down his own face and sat back down.
The Princess, seated in his shirt, wore an expression of serene clarity.
Though he’d been intoxicated by strong liquor at the time, it had been an unforgettable encounter. He’d dismissed it as a vision—but now, undeniably, that very figure sat before him in the flesh.
Yet this tangible presence was unpredictable. On the battlefield, countless soldiers had fallen beneath the sword she wielded.
He lifted his pewter goblet and drained it in one gulp. Thirsty and irritated, he felt an urge to grasp something—and that something was…
He drank another gulp of liquor. The fiery spirit slid down his throat; before its sharpness could fade, he drank again, suppressing the boiling desire threatening to surface.
He couldn’t know whether reinforcements or a negotiation proposal would come from Tane. But until then, the Princess was his prisoner… Hoo. Right—Har Chen, don’t rush.
The Emperor placed his interlaced hands on the table, watching Patricia’s profile as she gazed out the window, silently murmuring her name in his mind.
Patricia.
Her slender face suited the name perfectly.
“Princess. You really led three companies here yourself?”
“Yes.”
This wasn’t some minor duchy, nor a conflict-ridden region plagued by raiding tribes—yet she’d brought just three companies against an empire? And could he even trust this Princess’s testimony? He couldn’t.
She’d clearly denied it just now on the terrace, standing stiffly upright. With those slender arms, she’d cut down at least ten soldiers. And she’d even dared aim for his own neck…
“Who ordered this reckless attack? Was it Emperor Kazan?”
‘This entire scheme was orchestrated by Pamila.’
“Your Majesty has been confined to bed due to illness for three months now.”
“But I received a letter from the Tane Emperor just over a month ago.”
After Emperor Karsik’s death, during the ensuing chaos, a letter arrived from the Tane Emperor, offering to send mercenaries to assist in mining gold and diamonds in the Kaosan region.
The Emperor had politely replied that he had no interest in gold mining and intended instead to focus on stabilizing and reorganizing the empire for the time being.
Not long after, the corpses of three Tane envoys were discovered at the border. Emperor Karsik’s original letter was never found.
Tane, as if already prepared for war, launched an immediate invasion without even a formal declaration.
Kalip had recovered from the prisoner’s armor an order for deployment and Patrick’s commission as commander—both bearing the Tane Emperor’s seal.
“Moreover, the deployment order found on your person was written in the Emperor’s own hand.”
“It was Empress Pamila’s scheme. She also orchestrated the Emperor’s letter and the murder of the envoys.”
“Empress Pamila? Does the Empress Consort wield such authority?”
“Regrettably, yes. She might have even hoped Your Majesty would kill Patrick.”
Pamila likely already knew, through her spies, that Patricia had worn armor in Patrick’s place. She might have even stormed the western tower of the palace.
“Why should I believe a word you say?”
“…”
“Whether a negotiation proposal arrives or reinforcements come—we’ll find out soon enough. Either way, I’m intrigued.”
Worry for Patrick scorched Patricia’s insides like fire. She was parched.
She gnawed softly on her lips with her teeth, then wet them with her tongue.
“Princess, have a glass of Parnian.”
The Emperor never asked for opinions—he simply gave orders. Though Patricia wasn’t entirely opposed to soothing her throat and nerves with liquor.
“Please.”
At the Emperor’s ring of the bell, the butler entered. Following the Emperor’s instruction, the butler set down a crystal goblet and a plate of fruit and cheese.
The Emperor poured Parnian into the crystal goblet and handed it to Patricia, then poured some into his own pewter goblet.
“Why did you wear armor and impersonate Patrick?”
Patricia lifted her glass and drank. The strong liquor slid down her throat, briefly easing her tension.
“Patrick was born smaller and weaker than I, with a congenital illness. At first, I wore armor in secret, at my mother’s request, to stand in for him.”
The Emperor stared at her, puzzled by her use of “mother” and “Your Majesty.”
“Have you participated in wars before?”
“When I was young, I only observed. But as I grew older, I led campaigns against rebellious regions and raiding tribes.”
“And the Tane Emperor never knew? Is that even possible?”
“…”
Patricia fell silent at the Emperor’s question.
She, too, had wondered. She’d never removed her armor to meet the Emperor on the battlefield. Her mother insisted he didn’t know—but could that really be true?
She recalled the battle against the Marcus Kingdom: after falling from her horse, she’d rolled in blood-soaked earth—and the Emperor, astride his massive warhorse, had glared down at her before riding straight over her and past.
Did Your Majesty know it was me, not Patrick, and still chose to trample me? If not for Lord Eden, I would have…
Lisha, wear armor in Patrick’s place until he comes of age. You’re the only one who can protect him—remember that.
Yes, Mother. I’ll remember.
Lisha, if you keep eating like that, will you still fit into the armor made for Patrick? Stop eating.
Yes, I won’t eat anymore.
Lisha, practice your sword more. You must protect Patrick.
Yes.
My dear, I’m sorry. I couldn’t dress you like other ladies or let your hands stay soft—I had to make you wield a sword. You must help Patrick become Emperor.
Yes, I’ll help Patrick become Emperor.
Lisha, bury me in Torun—the seaside kingdom, by the shore cemetery.
Yes, Mother. I will.
Those had been her mother’s final words. After her mother’s death, when Patricia went to ask the Emperor for permission to visit the Torun Kingdom, he’d granted it without any sign of surprise at seeing her.
“…Princess?”
Patricia, lost in memories of her mother’s final moments, lifted her eyes—blue as rippling water. She hadn’t heard the Emperor’s question.
“Yes?”
Seeing the moisture in her eyes, the Emperor felt as though a sharp shard of metal had pierced his chest.
“Hmm. Is there… anyone else who knows?”
“Patrick’s knight and deputy commander knows.”
“What’s his name?”
“Eden. Eden Patterson.”
The Emperor fell silent, his expression thoughtful, asking no further questions.
After slowly sipping from his pewter goblet, he rubbed the spot where his lips had touched with his thumb and looked at Patricia.
His gaze was blatantly searching, as if trying to pry open her secrets. Uncomfortable, she lowered her head.
His chest ached as if scraped by metal, yet his body felt itchy and awkward. All his nerves and blood seemed to pool heavily downward.
Her face was finely drawn and narrow; her neck, pale and smooth. Though she’d fastened every button of the shirt up to the collar, its looseness revealed the delicate curve of her clavicle, gleaming faintly white.
Haa—no Adam’s apple. How could anyone mistake those slender shoulders for a man’s?
“Your Majesty, if you have no further questions, I’d like to take my leave.”
Patricia.
“…Princess.”
The Emperor remained silent until Patricia lifted her head. When she did, he met her gaze directly.
“You must have impersonated Patrick quite often—not just in war, but on other occasions too.”
The Emperor set down his pewter goblet and rose to his feet.
“For example—say, academy classes.”
Still locking eyes with her, he stepped closer, placing his left hand on the back of her chair and leaning down.
“I need to verify something.”
With his right hand, he gently encircled her slender neck. The flickering candlelight made the Emperor’s deep green eyes shimmer.
Whoosh.
He extinguished all five candles at once.
Instantly, the table by the window plunged into darkness, only faint moonlight seeping through.
He leaned closer to Patricia’s face, tilting his head slightly.
Their lips were nearly touching.
“Princess, you see—I once kissed a young lady in darkness just like this.”
Turns Out He’s Been Secretly in Love with Me
One-line summary: He acts like he doesn’t like her but is actually playing hard to get.
Synopsis:
Xu Muzhou like her. He has liked her for a very long time, and through repeated schemes, he finally closed the distance with her.
But this is still far from enough.
He wants to be the one who stands out among her many suitors, to fight for her attention, and to make her take the initiative to pursue him.
_____
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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.