chapter 18
From the outer edge of the bed where Kailhart sat—rigid and unmoving as if nailed to the floor—all the way up to the dome-shaped glass ceiling of the greenhouse, the entire high-ceilinged space formed a gentle curve that made it feel like an isolation ward.
Isabel glanced around the eerily silent surroundings, as still and lifeless as if stuffed and mounted. Then, she turned her gaze back toward him.
“This feels like a hospital room.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Kailhart’s dark eyes briefly swept over the wounds still visible on her body before sinking once more into unreadable silence.
“Stay here for the time being.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Isabel gave a nod. It seemed this place would serve as her temporary quarters, since her room had likely been rendered unusable after the terrorist attack.
“It appears to be the work of someone bearing deep resentment…”
In this imperial palace, assassination attempts were as routine as breathing or eating. Such was the cost of having too many enemies. Even so, few dared act this boldly.
“Your Majesty should also be extremely cautious.”
Rumors that Emperor Kailhart treated Princess Isabel like a spoil of war were well known. Yet the number of people who actually knew the exact location of Isabel chambers was extremely small.
If Isabel’s room had been deliberately targeted, then the culprit must have been an insider, or have had help from one.
What’s more, when she inhaled that red smoke during the attack and lost consciousness, she’d felt something strange. A sense of déjà vu. A scent that was… oddly familiar.
Could that really be?
“Your Majesty… do you have any suspicions about who might be behind this?”
She asked carefully, hoping to gauge his thoughts. But Kailhart’s brow furrowed instead of answering.
He reached out toward her—and only when his large, cool palm brushed against her cheek did she realize just how feverish her body had become.
“Take care of yourself first.”
Her wounds throbbed with delayed pain.
Of course. For someone who had just faced a terrorist attack at such close range, even if her injuries were minor, there was no way she’d come out completely unscathed.
Kailhart’s thumb slowly traced the scratch on Isabel’s cheek, lingering as if wandering.
“You don’t need to know anything.”
“…”
“You only need to stay by my side.”
Words spoken with an uncharacteristic hesitation.
“As my wife.”
As Kailhart leaned in closer, the warm amber glow of the round hanging lamp above the greenhouse ceiling was eclipsed by his body, casting a shadow over Isabel’s face.
“You don’t have anything left worth risking your life for, anyway.”
The way he looked down at her—it was the same as on their wedding night. And suddenly, she realized something.
She barely knew anything about him.
Nearly two years had passed, and they had shared a bed nearly every night in the name of bearing a child, yet he was still a stranger to her.
It struck her then: she hadn’t really seen him as a person at all.
“I don’t want that.”
She felt his hand hesitate, but she didn’t care. She met his gaze squarely.
“Yes, my country is in ruins. But the people of Saint-Au are still alive.”
“They’re the same people who throw stones at you.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Isabel was his spoil of war. So she tried to be like an object, like a doll—silent and still.
But whenever she kept her mouth shut, he always seemed displeased.
“What is it that I don’t know?”
Why? What is it he wants from me?
“What is it I’m supposed to know?”
Even when she had stepped forward for the sake of a friend, he’d seemed irritated, barely suppressing his anger.
“Can you tell me what I should know?”
For the first time, she found herself curious about this man. Curious about what he held inside.
Kailhart stared at her in silence for a moment. Then his lips parted, barely moving.
“If you want to make a deal, name your terms first.”
“A deal? What are you talking about—?”
“There’s something you want from me, isn’t there?”
Isabel froze at the question. Those deep violet eyes were fixed on her, unblinking.
“I’m sorry, but… I have nothing to offer Your Majesty.”
She answered quietly, but her chest burned. Something old and buried began to rise from deep within her unconscious—things she thought she’d long forgotten the names of.
Anger. Hatred. The sharp edge of vengeance.
“You say you have nothing, but didn’t I already take everything from you, Isabel?”
“You’re my wife—the one who, even after giving me her body, is now willing to use her mind for me too.”
With those low words, his lips twisted slightly. Isabel’s pupils trembled.
‘Am I seeing this right?’
The expression at his lips—it didn’t look like mockery, not the kind he usually wore. It almost looked… like a smile. A real one.
She hesitated.
“First, focus on recovering.”
But the moment passed in an instant.
Kailhart withdrew his hand and turned away again.
“Once you’re healed, there’s something you need to do.”
In just two weeks, the early winter landscape had fully transformed into the dead of winter. Outside the train window, the scenery blurred past in streaks of white and gray. Isabel let out a quiet sigh.
While staying deep within the imperial palace, she hadn’t been very aware of the changing seasons. But now, she could feel it clearly.
The pale winter sun broke through the thick clouds, casting its light over her face and shoulders.
She had never been one to pay much attention to the shift in seasons. But winter, winter was the season when she had lost so much.
From early morning, she had traveled with Kailhart and his attendants to the station, and the biting wind had clawed at her the entire way.
In the distance, a snow-covered forest looked almost like it was wrapped in a white mist. It reminded her of the scenes she used to see as a child during her academy days.
When every winter break began with a nauseating carriage ride from the academy to Saint-Au.
Laying tracks for the transcontinental train across the entire Nova continent had been one of Kailhart’s massive initiatives shortly after he took the throne.
It had required enormous amounts of money, manpower, and time. But now, as she could see for herself, the project had progressed to the test-run stage.
The moment she boarded, she realized just how fast it was—far beyond anything a car could offer. It was a speed that made her feel the tides of a rapidly changing era.
Just as Kailhart had once declared in his coronation speech—that he would connect the entire continent and leave no region behind.
The world truly was changing. Drastically. Abruptly.
“It’ll make your blood stir again.”
Just like Kailhart had said at dawn.
Specifically, he had asked her to accompany him on an inspection of the Empire’s outer territories.
To stir her blood.
For someone as far removed from aggression as Isabel, perhaps this meant he now had some use for her bloodline in name alone.
Just last night, her attending physician had cautioned her to be careful. Though she had recovered considerably, she still wasn’t fully healed.
And only a few hours later, close to midnight, Kailhart had come to see her.
Thanks to the fact that he hadn’t visited her for almost two weeks, Isabel had finally been able to focus solely on her recovery. However, when he did come, he stopped her as she was getting ready for bed, acting as if he hadn’t come to sleep with her.
‘Ah… so that wasn’t why he came?’
As that sunken look in Kailhart’s eyes returned to her mind, the train suddenly entered a long tunnel. Her reflection appeared faintly in the window, now turned black like a mirror.
And beside it, Kailhart’s figure, gazing at her.
“Do you like the view?”
Realizing he had been watching her for some time, Isabel stiffened.
“I apologize, Your Majesty.”
“Where did you learn to make apologies your habit?”
Isabel had been about to apologize again, but closed her mouth.
The train passed through rugged mountain terrain, and even after the first long tunnel, more tunnels, both long and short—continued one after another.
In the rhythm of that repeated scenery, a heavy silence settled inside the spacious cabin, lingering even as they shared a simple meal that had been prepared in advance.
“Does it taste all right?”
It was only when Kailhart spoke that Isabel noticed her hands had briefly frozen. She began moving her stiff fingers again.
It felt strange—eating in front of someone else after so long.
Kailhart watched her eat in silence, then muttered under his breath, as if to himself, that it felt like they were on a trip.
Isabel quietly chewed and swallowed her food. She couldn’t say much for the flavor, but she could tell it was of higher quality than her usual meals.
Once or twice, when their eyes met, Isabel gave him a polite smile. He returned it with a faint one of his own.
“You really never ask me anything, do you?”
“…Pardon?”
“Aren’t you curious?”
About why I asked you to come with me today.
“Am I… allowed to ask?”
“If you can’t even ask your husband, who are you planning to ask instead?”
‘Husband.’
Isabel thought she must have misheard; she had never heard him use that word before. But Kailhart simply stared at her, unblinking.
His face was not lit by the dim bedside lamp, but by bright daylight, and it looked unfamiliar. As the pale winter sun broke through the clouds, the shadows shifting across his straight brows and the bridge of his nose subtly altered his expression each time.
