The sound of summer cicadas filled the palace gardens. Their chorus was almost deafening, yet to Himeka, it was strangely comforting. A year had passed since her wedding day. A year of silence. A year of luxury. A year of emptiness.
And yet… she was still here.
She walked along the marble path, her sandals clicking softly against the stone. Lira, as always, followed two steps behind, holding a parasol to shield her from the afternoon sun.
"Your Majesty," Lira said gently, "you've walked this path so many times… Perhaps you'd like to rest?"
Himeka shook her head. "If I stop, I'll think again. And if I think, I…" She pressed her lips together, her eyes dropping to the lilies blooming by the pond. "…I'll only feel empty again."
Lira hesitated. "You miss your home, don't you?"
"My home…" Himeka smiled faintly, almost bitterly. "Barmouth is peaceful now. My people live without fear. That should be enough for me, shouldn't it?"
"But—"
"But it isn't," Himeka interrupted softly, almost ashamed. "Because here… I have everything. And yet, I feel like I have nothing."
That night, she sat at the edge of the massive bed, waiting for him. The Emperor entered as he always did—silently, like a shadow slipping through the door. His presence filled the room without a single word spoken.
Himeka looked up at him, her chest tightening.
"…Good evening," she said, her voice soft, tentative.
No reply. He walked past her, removing his cloak with practiced precision, and laid it neatly over the chair.
Himeka's fingers dug into the blanket. Just once… look at me. Just once, say something.
When he sat down at the desk, she stood suddenly, her heart hammering.
"Your Majesty!"
His hand paused over the parchment he was about to sign, but he didn't turn.
Himeka's throat burned. She forced herself to continue. "…Am I nothing more than a symbol to you?"
The silence stretched, unbearable.
"Do you see me at all?"
Still nothing. The scratch of his quill against parchment began again, cold and steady.
Her vision blurred. She bit her lip hard, willing the tears not to fall.
"…I hate you," she whispered, though her voice trembled too much to sound convincing.
For a moment, the quill stopped.
Her breath caught. Did he hear me? Did it matter?
But then, without a word, he resumed writing.
Himeka's shoulders slumped. She turned away, climbing into bed with shaky hands. Curling beneath the covers, she whispered into the silence:
"…No. That's a lie. I don't hate you at all."
Her tears slid silently into the pillow.
The next morning, she awoke alone. As always, he was already gone.
"Lira," she said as her handmaiden brushed her hair. "Am I foolish?"
"Foolish, Your Majesty?"
"For… wanting him to notice me."
Lira's hands slowed in her hair. "…It is not foolish. It is only human."
"Human…" Himeka let out a shaky laugh. "But he isn't, is he? He's like… the moon. Beautiful, distant, untouchable. And me… I'm like a moth that can't stop flying toward its light, even knowing I'll never reach it."
Lira said nothing. She only set the brush down gently, her silence kinder than any words.
That evening, Himeka found herself wandering toward the east wing of the palace. It was quieter there, away from the bustling servants and ministers. She stopped when she saw a familiar figure standing by the window.
Him.
The Emperor, bathed in silver moonlight, his white hair catching the glow like strands of frost. He stood perfectly still, his red eyes fixed on the sky.
Her breath caught. Her heart began to pound in her chest, loud enough that she feared he might hear it.
"…So beautiful," she whispered without meaning to.
Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her chest. "Why… Why do you make me feel like this? Why can't I look away from you?"
The Emperor didn't turn. Didn't move. He remained as motionless as the moon he gazed at.
Himeka's lips quivered. If I stay here, I'll drown in this silence.
She turned on her heel and hurried away, her heart hammering.
And that night, lying alone in the vast bed, her face buried in her hands, she whispered the truth she had been afraid to admit until now:
"…I think I'm falling in love with him."
Her tears wet the sheets, but this time, they weren't only of sorrow.
Because deep inside her chest, where her loneliness had once lived, something dangerous was beginning to bloom.
End of Chapter 5