---
Morning came pale and gray. The rain had stopped, but the world still felt heavy, soaked in the aftermath of the storm.
Himeka sat at the breakfast table in the Empress's wing, untouched tea cooling in her hands.
Across from her, Lira observed quietly.
"You didn't sleep again, did you, Your Majesty?"
Himeka gave a faint smile. "I did sleep… but not the way people usually mean it."
"Not the way…?"
Her fingers tightened around the cup. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "…I spent the whole night kissing him. Holding him. Pretending his silence was an answer."
Lira's lips parted, but she found no words.
Himeka laughed softly, bitterly. "Do you think I'm pathetic?"
"No," Lira said firmly, shaking her head. "I think you're brave. Loving someone like him takes more courage than war."
The words warmed her, if only a little. Still, she couldn't shake the heaviness pressing against her ribs.
---
Later, as she walked the palace corridors, a minister passed by—one of Cyrillic's gray-haired advisors. He bowed low.
"Empress," he greeted respectfully.
She nodded faintly, forcing a smile. "Good day."
But as she walked past, she caught the faintest whisper from two guards nearby:
"…Poor girl. He never even speaks to her, they say."
Her steps faltered.
The words cut deeper than they should have.
So it isn't just me. Everyone sees it. They all know he never—never—looks at me the way I look at him.
Her chest burned. She pressed her hand against her heart, willing the ache to settle.
And still… I can't stop. Even if the whole world thinks I'm a fool.
---
That night, the chamber was quiet as always. He sat at the desk, candlelight flickering over his pale skin, his long white hair falling over his shoulders like silver silk.
Himeka stood near the bed, her robe slipping slightly at her collar, her bare feet cold against the floor.
She stared at him, trembling.
"Your Majesty," she whispered. "I can't… keep pretending."
No answer.
Her voice broke, more desperate now. "Do you know what it feels like? To love someone so much it hurts to breathe? To want to be touched so badly you'd sell your soul for it?"
Her tears burned, falling freely now. "And yet every night I kiss you, every night I hold you, and you give me nothing. Not a word. Not even a glance."
She stepped closer, her hands clenching. "If you hate me, tell me. If you don't want me, push me away. Please… don't torture me like this."
Silence.
She choked on a sob, stumbling forward. Her hands clutched at his robes, trembling violently. She pressed her forehead against his chest, gasping.
"…I'm begging you," she whispered hoarsely. "Please. Just once. Look at me. Touch me. Anything. I'll take even the smallest piece of you. Anything you'll give me."
Her tears soaked into his clothes. She kissed him through her sobs—his chest, his neck, then his lips, desperate, shaking, burning.
And then—
Something changed.
It was so small, so subtle, she almost thought she imagined it.
His hand.
For the first time in more than a year, his hand moved—barely, almost imperceptibly. The back of his fingers brushed against her hair, as if testing its softness. A movement so faint, it could have been nothing more than an accident.
But to Himeka—
Her heart exploded.
She froze, tears dripping onto his chest, her lips trembling against his skin. Slowly, she lifted her head, crimson eyes meeting crimson eyes.
"You…" Her voice cracked. "You touched me."
Her whole body shook as she broke into sobs again—but this time, they weren't only of sorrow.
She kissed him fiercely, desperately, clutching him as though he were her only anchor. "I knew it. I knew you weren't made of stone. You're human. You're alive."
Her kisses trailed across his face, frantic and tender, her tears wetting his skin. "…Thank you. Thank you for giving me even this much."
She pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, trembling, her voice a vow:
"I'll never let you go. Even if this is all you give me—even if it's only a brush of your hand—I'll treasure it. Forever."
---
Later that night, after her storm of tears and kisses, she lay curled against him beneath the covers. Her head rested on his chest, her hands clutching his robe as if afraid he might disappear.
Lira peeked in quietly through the crack of the door, checking on her mistress as she often did. When she saw Himeka's tearstained but glowing face, and the Emperor's still, silent form allowing her to remain, she closed the door softly.
"Empress…" Lira whispered to herself, her heart aching with both pity and awe. "You've fallen into a fire that will never let you go."
---
Himeka pressed one last trembling kiss to his chest, whispering into the silence before drifting into sleep:
"…Even if you never speak to me, even if you never love me back, I'll keep loving you until the end of my life."
And with that vow, her heart, though still aching, felt fuller than it ever had before.
Because tonight, she had felt it.
The Moonlit Emperor had touched her.
The smallest movement.
But to her, it was everything.
---
End of Chapter 13
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