The chamber's roar grew louder, echoing off the marble pillars.
Ministers signed the parchment one by one, their quills scratching like daggers. Lady Serenya's smile widened with each stroke, her triumph as sweet as poison.
Himeka knelt on the floor, tears dripping steadily, her body trembling like a bird with broken wings.
Her ears rang. Her heart ached. This is how it ends. Forgotten. Replaced.
She raised her head once—just once—to look at him.
The Moonlit Emperor.
He sat on the throne, crimson eyes half-lidded, his face carved from ice. Silent. Terrifying. Beautiful.
Her tears blurred her vision, but her gaze did not waver.
Even if you never wanted me… I'm glad I loved you.
Her lips formed a trembling smile through her sobs. Even if I disappear, my heart will always be yours.
Her tears fell harder, streaming freely as she whispered hoarsely into the silence:
"…I love you."
And then—
The world stopped.
A sound filled the hall, low and rumbling like distant thunder.
The Emperor's voice.
"…Enough."
The single word crashed through the chamber like a blade of ice.
All fell silent. Quills froze mid-stroke. Ministers went pale. Lady Serenya stiffened, her triumphant smile shattering.
The voice was deep, commanding, utterly terrifying.
But it was not cold policy. Not war decrees. Not judgment.
It was for her.
Himeka gasped softly, her tearstained face lifting, eyes wide in shock.
The Emperor slowly rose from his throne. His crimson gaze swept across the chamber—chilling, merciless.
"I will not repeat myself," he said, his voice low, measured, emotionless yet filled with crushing power. "She is my Empress."
The words reverberated like thunder, undeniable, absolute.
Gasps rippled. Ministers dropped to their knees in fear. Even General Kael, hardened by battle, felt his breath catch.
Lady Serenya stumbled back, her painted lips trembling. "B-But… Your Majesty—"
His gaze cut to her. Just a glance. And she collapsed to her knees, shaking, unable to speak another word.
The silence was suffocating, broken only by Himeka's soft sobs.
He descended the dais, his steps echoing like doom.
Before the entire court, before nobles and guards and ministers, he stopped before Himeka.
She stared up at him, trembling, tears streaking her cheeks. "…Y-Your Majesty…"
He reached down.
The chamber collectively held its breath.
His hand—pale, steady, impossibly gentle—slid beneath hers. He lifted her to her feet, holding her hand as if it belonged there.
And though his face remained unreadable, his words left no doubt:
"She does not leave. She does not kneel. She is mine."
The hall erupted—not in protest, but in silence. No one dared speak.
The Emperor had spoken, and his word was law.
Himeka sobbed into her free hand, her heart nearly breaking from the weight of it. For the first time, his voice had been for her. For her alone.
"…Thank you," she whispered through her tears. "Thank you…"
And though he said no more, his silence now carried a different weight—one that told her she was not alone.
The Moonlit Emperor had finally spoken.
Not for the empire. Not for politics.
For her.
---
End of Chapter 17