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The words, far exceeding all expectations, threw Eileen off balance.
Losing the gift of speech, she began to make disjointed excuses in confusion.
"No.
Absolutely not.
I wouldn't even dare to think of such a thing.
I, as a subject of the Empire, have always thought only of the glory of Traon..."
"I knew it wasn't so."
Leone, listening to her confused excuses, grunted and knitted his brows.
He slowly ran a finger over his chin, looking intently at Eileen, and then smirked.
"In any case, the Lady Elrod I know is not capable of such a thing."
*‘Then why did you ask?..’*
Swallowing the words she didn't dare speak before the Emperor, Eileen looked at Leone with a grimace.
His words spun in her head like a carousel.
Animosity toward the Empire.
Extermination of subjects.
A request to Cesare.
Putting together these monstrous hints, Eileen realized: Cesare must have told Leone something strange.
While she was trying to understand this, Leone offered tea.
Eileen fidgeted again and took a sip.
She couldn't even tell if the tea went into her nose or her mouth.
Forgetting to add milk or sugar out of agitation, she just drank the bitter beverage.
Leone, having won by an unexpected blow, slowly stirred in sugar and asked:
"You have grown much.
If I'm not mistaken, we haven't seen each other for five... no, four years?"
"Yes, Your Majesty.
Four years." Her quick answer again amused Leone, and he smirked.
In a soft tone, the Emperor dropped a barb: "You must have been very angry with me."
"No."
Her denial was belated—for she really had been angry.
Embarrassment washed over Eileen when Leone smiled with the look of a person who knew the truth.
She was angry with Leone because of Cesare.
Having become Emperor, he’d sent his brother, who had helped him most of all to ascend the throne, to war.
Three years ago, when Cesare's entry into the war was announced, Eileen had read the news in the newspaper.
Seeing the headline about his departure for the front, she desperately wanted to meet with him.
But that was impossible.
She could only wait longingly—perhaps Cesare would call for her or visit himself.
But time passed, and the torment intensified.
Dozens of times a day she looked at the calendar, and at night she prayed that he would appear the next day, and then could not fall asleep for a long time.
And then, on the eve of his departure.
Seeing the military car in the garden of her house, she dropped everything and ran outside.
However, it wasn't Cesare who stepped out, but Rotan.
"His Highness the Grand Duke..."
"Forgive him.
He is too busy with preparations for departure, so he could not spare you time."
When Rotan announced he had come instead of Cesare, her heart failed.
Eileen, in tears, clutched at him, begging to arrange at least one meeting, just one.
Embarrassed, but yielding to her pleas, Rotan still agreed.
He took Eileen to Cesare.
It was not the Imperial Palace or the Duke's residence, but an unfamiliar house.
Eileen didn't know where it was.
She just sobbed, thoughtlessly knocking on the door behind which was Cesare.
"Your Highness!
It's Eileen.
Please open up."
But Cesare didn't open.
No matter how much she sobbed and begged, he didn't even make a sound.
She couldn't just let him go.
All the newspapers blared about how dangerous and disadvantageous this war was, how strong the army of the Kingdom of Calpen was.
It was said that after the civil war, the imperial troops had fallen into decay, and one couldn't expect former glory—that one could only hope for a miracle.
The yellow press mocked that this time the arrogant Duke would know the bitterness of defeat, and that one should prepare mourning for the imperial family in advance.
Everyone spoke of his death.
"You mustn't...
Don't go..." Eileen knocked on the door until her hands were covered in grazes and bruises, and then lost consciousness.
Rotan took her home.
And then Cesare left.
He had pampered her so, but he didn't even show himself before his departure.
Eileen was left alone and lived in hell every day, thinking about Cesare, who had gone to war.
Every morning she looked for a newspaper first thing, read news about Cesare, closely followed the course of the war.
On days of good news, she was in high spirits; at the slightest bad news, she fell into depression, unable to work.
Once she even had a nightmare where she read about Cesare's death.
On such days she wrote letters to him through tears.
The ink blurred, and she had to rewrite the message several times.
She desperately hoped for at least one answer.
But, as if in mockery, Cesare, who had left in silence, didn't send a single line.
Then Eileen wanted to stop loving him unrequitedly.
This agony was so strong that it seemed simpler to tear out her heart and throw it far away.
But the feeling was already rooted in her heart, growing into all corners of her body.
He had become her foundation and essence.
To eradicate the love, she would have to tear out her whole life.
For her feeling, strengthening since she was ten, had become that deep.
Unable to change anything, Eileen could only run.
First of all, she stopped writing letters without an answer.
She read newspapers only once a week.
She thought about Cesare only before bed.
She set boundaries just to continue living, awaiting the day when Cesare would return to the capital.
Instead of thinking less about Cesare, she took up research into painkillers.
She wanted to become useful to him, to deserve his answer.
This desire for recognition made Eileen take up even opium.
When news of the victory came, she cried for joy.
She thought she would finally meet him, but then she learned: Cesare hadn't returned to the capital, but was living in a camp on a nearby plain.
And yet she hoped: maybe this time he would come to her himself?
Or at least write?
But Cesare didn't give a single sign.
And then he unexpectedly came to her laboratory, and they met.
"I tried to dissuade the Duke."
Hearing the voice, Eileen woke from her memories.
*‘How could I be distracted before His Majesty?’* Eileen scolded herself mentally.
Leone moved a plate of cookies to her and continued:
"As an older brother, I was obliged to stop my younger brother going to certain death, was I not?
But despite my entreaties, he still left."
For the Emperor, it was also a risk.
The civil war had only just ended, and Cesare, the pillar of imperial power, had led the imperial army to the front.
It was a war where not just victory but complete rout was required.
If Calpen was not completely crushed and absorbed, the resources spent on the war would turn into a catastrophe.
The imperial nobles were only waiting for a moment to swallow the imperial house.
But Cesare returned to the Empire with an unprecedented victory.
"Cesare wanted to protect Traon.
The Traon where you were, Eileen."
She wanted to object to the Emperor.
*‘Could he really go to his death for the sake of me alone?’*
"Congratulations on the marriage, Lady Elrod."
But what could she answer to his benevolent congratulations?
Only thank him politely.
Eileen again took a sip of the bitter tea.
"I don't know if you noticed." Blue eyes studied Eileen closely.
Contrary to expectations, they were the opposite color to Cesare's, but his gaze, sharp and piercing, gave away the kinship.
"But lately my brother... has become different.
I thought maybe you knew something and called you."
Eileen also noticed the changes in Cesare.
But she had nothing to say to Leone.
Except perhaps that he had become a bit more impulsive.
Hardly would the Emperor have summoned her for such a thing.
*‘Or maybe before he saw in me only a girl, and now...’* Eileen blushed, remembering that night.
*Click.*
The door to the audience hall opened without a knock.
And only then did a man tap lightly on the already open door.
"Eileen." Cesare dropped the phrase with a crooked smirk: "What are you doing here alone?
Your husband is missing you."