A Gift Wrapped in Chains

Hector had clearly urged her to conceive not long ago.

He had bared his teeth and warned her that she would bear a child.

Since Severian, born of the Empress’s infidelity, could hardly inherit the throne, the need for an heir must have been pressing.

Yet Chloe knew the truth.

He did not truly desire a child of his own blood.

In her past life and in this one, no child of Hector’s seed had ever been born.

She did not know the reason.

Perhaps he wished to keep all power centered solely upon himself.

Or perhaps he simply had no interest in forming a family.

Considering how nearly every close imperial relative had died, leaving only distant kin, she could only conclude that he was not entirely sane.

If such a man began to insist upon childbirth, it was a warning sign.

She remembered the moment he had forced the pill into her mouth.

It had been sport to him.

His smile had been radiant, beautiful—yet tyrannical beyond resistance.

The sort of expression a cruel master might wear while shoving dirt into the mouth of a dog.

He could not possibly be unaware that she endured their nights like a sentence of damnation.

Perhaps he simply wished to heighten the cruelty.

There were moments when he seemed tender.

While kissing her or spreading her legs, he curved his eyes like a devoted lover.

Was she misunderstanding him?

Was there affection she failed to perceive?

‘Never.’

The capacity to cherish another had never existed within Hector.

Not before she crossed the river of death, and not now.

In her previous life, she had conceived and miscarried several times.

Whether her cycle stopped or not, he paid no attention.

Only his desire mattered.

No matter how frail her body became, she was required to serve him at night.

She had never carried a pregnancy to term.

Perhaps it was unfair to blame him entirely.

Her body and spirit had been exhausted soil, unfit to nurture life.

She had left that loss as nothing more than regret.

This life was no different.

Hector showed no interest in his own bloodline.

If he had truly desired children, he would have sought heirs with either of his two Empresses.

So the fertility drug had not been given because he longed for a child.

He wanted only to lift the hips she so despised offering and enjoy the act.

If she conceived, matters would only worsen.

In the flow of her former life, her own head would likely fall before any infant could draw breath.

Chloe clenched her teeth until her jaw ached.

Her resolve felt like clawing through mud, but once she reached solid ground, her thoughts cleared.

“I do not want a child. Please help me, Sophie.”

Sophie scratched her head.

The triumphant smile she had worn while analyzing the medicine cooled awkwardly.

“This is… troublesome.”

“We made a contract. You promised to help me avoid pregnancy.”

Though her eyes glistened with tears, Chloe knew she held leverage.

Sophie had stolen from the forbidden section.

If necessary, Chloe could report her to the Emperor.

Sophie did not deliberate long.

She tapped her chin twice before deciding.

“Fine. I’ll prepare an antidote.”

The laboratory lacked sufficient ingredients, so they arranged to meet again.

As Chloe departed, unease lingered like sediment.

An alliance with a brilliant yet morally unmoored mind was far from comforting.

Too much time had passed.

When Chloe returned to the main palace at dusk, imperial guards stood waiting outside the antechamber.

Hector had returned.

She would surely be reprimanded.

The mere thought darkened her vision.

Hector’s methods with her were peculiar.

He did not hurl insults or impose heavy punishments as he did with others.

Instead, he cornered her into revealing her vulnerabilities.

What humiliation awaited her this time?

She felt like a prisoner walking toward execution.

When the door opened in the steward’s hand, it felt like the mouth of hell.

Hector stood by the balcony pillar.

Their eyes met instantly.

Her nape prickled like prey before a predator.

“You’re early,” she managed, her smile trembling.

“I missed you, so I came as soon as the council ended.”

Mockery from the start.

“Was your walk enjoyable?”

She nodded stiffly.

“With whom did you amuse yourself?”

“Alone.”

“So—who?”

Each repeated question tightened the knot in her chest.

Did he know about Sophie?

Or was he merely probing?

“I wandered by myself. It clears my mind.”

He tilted his sharp jaw.

An unspoken command to approach.

She moved closer, her fingertips curling inward.

“Who made you feel stifled?”

As though he did not know.

She said nothing.

She noticed he still wore the clothes from earlier.

He had not changed.

His arm encircled her waist.

Their bodies pressed together.

He brushed his lips lightly against hers, then withdrew.

“I’ve been called to campaign.”

For a split second, relief surged through her.

He was leaving the palace.

She masked it with a fragile sigh.

“A rebellion has broken out. I’ll lead the suppression myself.”

“Is it not dangerous?”

“Would you prefer that?”

Her heart jolted.

“Of course not. Could you not send someone else?”

He pinched her cheek.

“Take your medicine diligently.”

His smile resembled that of a youth in love.

Absurd.

“I prepared something for you, since I worry about you wandering so freely.”

A chill crept through her.

She was no beloved to be gifted tokens.

She froze in her painted smile.

Because he truly had brought her a gift.