"Shoot, I forgot Ares."
The realization struck Ett the moment the doors to her chamber closed behind her, the echo of polished wood meeting stone ringing faintly in the quiet. The warmth of the room failed to soothe her. Forgetting could be delayed, yes, but delay meant something far worse for the one she had almost consigned to the back of her mind. Another night. Another day.
Another stretch of terror endured by a soul who had already suffered for months.
Her brows knit together. Irritation was too mild a word. This was negligence.
Without further hesitation, she reached for the tassel hanging beside the headboard and tugged it once, sharply. It was an exclusive signal, a silent summons understood by only one person within the palace walls.
Akan arrived quickly, as he always did.
He entered with measured steps, pausing just inside the threshold. "Your Ladyship?" His voice was steady, alert, betraying no sign of fatigue despite the late hour.
Ett turned slightly toward him. "Was Ares also present in the banquet hall tonight?"
Akan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. "Hm?" He searched his memory. The image surfaced quickly. The young man standing beside Count Shubert, introduced repeatedly as his trusted aide, always half a step behind, eyes lowered at the right moments.
"Ah. Yes. He was present."
Ett exhaled slowly. So that was how it had been presented. Trusted aide. How convenient.
"Do not worry, Your Ladyship," Akan continued smoothly, anticipating the concern behind her silence. "The moment you expressed your intention to place him under your protection, I had already dispatched men to assist Sire Maclurrey during his difficult circumstances. Tonight's banquet provided the perfect opportunity to remove him without arousing suspicion."
Ett's gaze sharpened slightly. "Where is he now?"
So that was his full name. Ares Maclurrey. The name lingered in her thoughts, heavier now that it was complete.
"He is currently staying in one of our concealed townhouses," Akan replied.
"The Count likely assumed he departed early and may have attempted to follow. By morning, as you ordered, those ladies who participated in similar… entertainments will be summoned to a separate hall."
Ett nodded once. "Very well."
Relief did not wash over her, but tension loosened its grip by a fraction. Akan truly was capable. Efficient. Reliable in a way few people ever managed to be.
"Then I will see you tomorrow," she said, her tone dismissive but not unkind.
"Yes, Your Ladyship." Akan inclined his head. "I wish you a restful night."
When the door closed, Ett stood alone once more. The chamber felt larger without another presence, the silence pressing in.
"At night," she muttered to herself, "I should stop thinking."
She moved toward her bed slowly, as if her limbs needed convincing. "I am no longer on the graveyard shift," she added, as though reminding herself of a rule long broken.
A yawn escaped her despite the tension coiled beneath her skin.
She lifted her hands, holding them up before her face. Porcelain fingers. Small. Fragile. Too perfect. This body looked as if it would shatter under the wrong pressure.
"I cannot even polish my nails," she murmured, flexing them slightly, "or have a nail technician decorate them however I want."
Six months had passed like that.
Most of it spent lying down. Recuperating. Observing. Thinking far too much and doing far too little, at least by her own standards. The story had moved forward regardless. Some events stayed aligned with the original plot. Others shifted ahead, disappearing from her awareness, perhaps to reemerge later, perhaps never.
Every character she recognized existed.
Except for Ett.
A monotonous life, stretched thin by constant mental exertion.
Understanding Ett had required more effort than she cared to admit. If she had been granted a second chance to live, truly live, she would not have chosen this.
But second chances were luxuries rarely afforded.
"I do not need one either," she said softly.
What she wanted was simple. Quiet days. Passive income. Time to herself. Sleep without anxiety.
A life where money was never a concern.
Her current existence resembled that dream only in shape, not in substance.
The difference was obvious, yet impossible to articulate cleanly.
Something in her mind had shifted the moment she became Ett, as if an internal mechanism updated without her consent.
Her mental state was at its worst during nights like this. When ideas ran dry, her mind either shut itself down entirely or spiraled until thoughts collided and shattered, leaving her with a sense of visual noise and internal chaos.
"I cannot sleep."
She turned restlessly, staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then the shadows cast by the faint light. Alpacas marched through her thoughts in neat rows, accomplishing nothing.
"No use," she sighed. "Still no use."
There was no coffee to knock her into exhaustion. Only tea, and tea never worked the way she needed it to.
She needed a book. Something dull. Something unengaging enough to coax her mind into surrender.
"I am done."
Decision made, Ett slipped from her bed and wrapped herself in a light robe before leaving the chamber.
The palace corridors at night were sparsely lit, lamps casting pools of warm glow that failed to dispel the cold. Her footsteps echoed faintly as she passed through the long hallways, the emptiness reminding her of medieval dramas she once watched. Those days felt impossibly distant now.
The library door creaked as she pushed it open.
Inside, the air was cooler still, heavy with the scent of old parchment and ink.
And yet.
She paused.
A prickling sensation crept up her spine.
For a moment, she felt watched.
Her grip tightened on the lamp she carried. Silence pressed in from all sides.
"…Paranoid," she muttered under her breath.
In other circumstances, people might think of ghosts. Here, her mind leaps instead to the idea of someone hidden among the shelves, observing her from the shadows.
"Greetings, Empress Dowager."
Ett startled violently, her breath catching as her hands trembled. She swung the lamp toward the source of the voice.
Guren.
The Emperor stood partially obscured by darkness, his figure outlined faintly where moonlight slipped through the curtains.
Her heart lurched uncomfortably.
Damnable child. Was he trying to shorten her lifespan?
She swallowed, forcing composure.
A split second passed as she weighed her options. Bow. Leave. Acknowledge him briefly.
Yes, that's it
She settled for a subtle nod. "Your Majesty."
Why was he here? In the dark. Without even a lamp. She said nothing more, turning instead toward the opposite shelves. It was not as if he would care whether she left immediately. Such behavior was normal.
Expected, even.
Distance. She needed distance.
She drifted farther into the library, scanning spines until her eyes landed on the most tedious romance clichés she could find. Perfect.
"Hah," she muttered quietly. "Walking so far is tiring."
She gathered two medium-sized volumes and one larger book with deceptively few pages. That would suffice for tonight. She could return for more another day, preferably when the Emperor was not present.
"This is enough," she decided.
Her gaze flicked to a title nearby.
"Dreams and War?"
Interest sparked briefly as she read the introduction. Then reason returned.
"No. What am I doing?"
She closed the book and slid it back into place.
Time to leave.
Ugh. Passing by the Emperor again.
She shifted the books to one arm and moved as quietly as possible, attempting to glide past him unnoticed.
Pretend you did not see. Pretend you are alone.
A soft sound escaped her before she could stop it.
She halted.
Her eyes drifted back.
Guren sat slumped in his chair, the darkness framing him like a curtain. One of the curtains nearby was slightly parted, moonlight spilling across his form. His head had fallen forward. A book lay abandoned on the floor, and a detailed map was spread across the table before him.
Fatigue weighed heavily on his features. His brow was furrowed deeply, as if even sleep offered no reprieve.
Without warning, an urge rose in her chest. A foolish, instinctive desire to smooth that frown away.
So this was how he endured his nights. Sleeping upright. Unprotected. In the cold.
He had not even bothered with a thick robe.
This position was uncomfortable. Harmful, even. The library grew cold after midnight.
She stood there, silent.
Ett could not give him her robe. Small kindnesses accumulated. Distance had been hard-won.
I do not want to do this.
Shut up. Ahh. My mind, oh my mind la.
With deliberate care, Ett turned away and closed the library door behind her. No guards stood nearby. No maids. The wing felt abandoned.
She would need to address that. High security outside meant little if desperation and greed found their way inside.
As soon as she returned to her chamber, she climbed into bed and pulled the blanket around herself. The lamp on her nightstand cast a steady glow as she opened one of the books.
Minutes passed.
Nothing.
The book was unbearably dull.
She tried another.
Still nothing.
"These are the times I hate remembering your words, Mom," she whispered.
I hate this.
With a frustrated sigh, she tugged the tassel once more.
A knock sounded almost immediately.
"Come in."
Akan burst in, sword in hand, hair in disarray, eyes sharp with concern.
"Your Ladyship, why summon me so late? Is there an attack? Has your condition worsened?"
"The…" She paused.
"The Emperor is sleeping in the library."
Akan blinked. "Ah yes, yes… ah?" His expression shifted into disbelief.
"Pardon?"
"And ensure the lamp oil does not run out."
Silence stretched.
"Did you hear me?"
"Yes," Akan said slowly. He was very much awake.
"Go."
He hesitated. "That is all?"
"Do you believe there should be more?"
Understanding dawned, and Akan laughed softly. "I will see to it at once. Good night, Your Ladyship."
"Mm."
As the door closed, Ett sank back against her pillows.
"He works himself too hard," she muttered. "Overworking a child…"
She opened another book.
Guide to Get Your Person's Attention.
Not interesting.
How to Take Care of a Child?
"…Yes."
Perfectly boring.
The lamp's wick burned lower as the night deepened. By the time it flickered for the last time, Ett was already asleep, breathing slow and even.
The door opened quietly.
A new light entered the chamber.
Guren stepped inside, exhaustion etched into his eyes. Butler Xiwen had startled him awake earlier while draping a blanket over his shoulders. He had sensed her presence in the library, felt her return the fallen book to its place.
He looked down at the book by her bedside.
How to Take Care of a Child?
His brow creased.
He lifted the lamp slightly, studying her sleeping face. Innocent.
Untouched. Almost unreal.
A knife rested hidden within his sleeve.
If he tilted the lamp lower, would it scar her? If he ended it now, would the nightmares stop?
He sighed.
"Not yet."
Guren opened the window slightly, letting the breeze in.
"Very stuffy," he murmured, standing watch a moment longer before turning away.