Are We Still In love?

When had it all begun?

There was no point in trying to guess. What was certain was this—Eden, whom she had believed loved her, actually hated her enough to want her dead.

“……”

A laugh escaped her lips. She knew it was inappropriate, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to laugh—or else she couldn’t bear it. At the same time, silent tears fell like rain.

Yet Eden’s gaze, fixed on the weeping Cecilia, remained calm. He looked neither surprised, nor sorrowful, nor pleased. His tranquil eyes seemed detached from both time and circumstance, as if he stood apart from it all.

This pain belonged solely to Cecilia.

The Duke of Rain’s house had fallen into complete ruin, and the Empress had secluded herself, locking herself away in her own palace.

The Emperor was no longer the same. Under the sharp blade of his rule, everyone lowered their voices and their bodies, doing everything they could to avoid drawing his attention. But one question lingered among them all:

“What will happen to Her Majesty?”

What future awaited the Empress, now a fallen noble? So far, the Emperor had shown no desire to depose her, but would that truly remain unchanged?

A commotion stirred beyond the doors. It was the Emperor’s procession—the first in about three months. Perhaps the doors hadn’t been fully closed, as Eden’s voice slipped through the narrow gap.

“Her Majesty remains in her chambers.”

Countess Casper replied in a composed voice, indifferent, as though her mistress’s meals were of no importance.

“Cecilia.”

Suddenly, the doors opened wide, and Eden entered, trailed by his attendants. As always, his brown hair was neatly brushed back, and he was immaculately dressed in formal attire.

“I greet the Sun of Wyatt.”

There had been a time when she had loved that sight beyond measure. A time when she had admired his brilliance and felt proud that he was hers.

‘Ilina Nova, once His Majesty’s maid—no, Countess Lawson—is now His Majesty’s consort. It’s already been two years.’

‘Countess Casper… You betrayed me?’

‘To uphold a family’s dignity, one needs both honor and wealth, Your Majesty.’

Recalling Countess Casper’s voice—no different from a watchful jailer—Cecilia stepped down from the bed.

‘But now, Your Majesty can offer me neither honor nor wealth. I had no choice.’

She moved to offer the Emperor her formal respects.

“That’s enough.”

But Eden immediately stopped her. A sharp-eyed maid quickly brought indoor slippers, and Eden gently slipped them onto Cecilia’s feet with careful hands.

“When have you ever been so diligent in paying respects to the Emperor?”

It was meant to be a joke—though devoid of any humor. Cecilia quietly gazed down at Eden’s soft, water-colored eyes, gentle yet strangely empty.

‘There is no need for His Majesty to concern himself with the inner palace anymore. Countess Lawson manages everything now.’

‘Why should I believe you just from your words?’

Of course, she had doubted it. Cecilia wasn’t foolish enough to trust only Countess Casper’s words. But soon, she would think perhaps it would’ve been better to be that foolish.

‘How else could my husband, Diego Lawson, rise from commoner to Count without any notable achievements?’

As if waiting for this moment, Ilina Nova herself appeared. Unlike Cecilia—frail and pale as a withering flower—Ilina was resplendent, adorned in glamour.

‘You’ve arrived, Countess Lawson.’

Countess Casper greeted her with the docility of a servant before her mistress.

‘Because His Majesty loves me.’

It was common for the Emperor to take a noblewoman as a consort and reward her husband in return.

‘Bring me the ledger.’

At Ilina’s command, Countess Casper stepped away briefly and returned.

‘See? This is my handwriting, and my signature, isn’t it?’

Ilina showed Cecilia the Imperial ledger, bearing both her own signature and the Emperor’s seal.

‘H-How could this…?’

‘I didn’t wish to go this far with someone who was once my mistress. But you’ve clung to your position for far too long.’

“……”

‘Now, please return what is mine.’

The horrific betrayal—every word of it—was true.

“I must at least conduct myself properly from now on. I am nothing now, after all.”

She felt as though she might vomit. The man who had conspired with her maid, planned to reduce her to a puppet, and sought happiness for himself with that woman—he was revolting.

“That may be true.”

Eden readily agreed. Cecilia clenched her teeth as bile rose in her throat. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his, still kneeling on one knee before her.

The face before her was no different from the fiancé, the betrothed, the husband she had once known. Yet, an unsettling sense of wrongness persisted.

“Are you satisfied now?”

Cecilia’s words were sharp and unfiltered, causing the faces of nearby servants to turn deathly pale. To confront the Emperor so boldly—especially when her last remaining title could be stripped away at any moment—was sheer madness.

“I am not.”

Yet the Emperor brushed aside her insolence with indifference. It was his detached demeanor that stoked Cecilia’s fury.

“What brings you here after six months?”

“……”

“Have you finally come to kill me?”

At her words, Eden smiled faintly.

“Of course not.”

His feelings remained unchanged.

“I came to propose a negotiation.”

Eden’s large hand reached toward her face, gently tucking her golden hair behind her ear. She flinched violently. Once, such a touch had been natural—but now, it terrified her.

“Cecilia, if you wish it, I could return your family to you.”

He finally spoke. The unbelievable words made Cecilia’s eyes fly wide open. She grasped Eden’s arm, searching his eyes for sincerity.

“You’ve discovered that my father wasn’t a traitor, haven’t you?”

Her voice trembled with hope. Eden, gazing into her eyes—filled with expectation, like the lush greens of summer—smiled softly, just as he once had when he looked at her with affection.

“If you agree to the execution of Curtis Rain—your father.”

Her hope shattered into pieces.

“If you punish the leader of the rebellion and restore your family’s honor, returning the House of Rain to you would be no difficult matter.”

Absurd. To demand a daughter help kill her own father? It was mockery, pure and cruel. Just as Cecilia clenched her teeth and moved to push him away—he shattered her, once again.

“Your Majesty!”

After a few sharp knocks on the door, a voice called for Eden. A foreboding feeling seeped into Cecilia’s chest, making her heart pound with unease. Her gaze snapped toward the door as she strained to catch every sound.

“Enter.”

At Eden’s command, the door opened and Marquis Caliber appeared.

“We have apprehended Curtis Rain.”

Cecilia’s small hand, suspended in midair, trembled. Her skin turned deathly pale, and her whole body shook. Eden, noticing her distress, locked eyes with her—his gaze as calm as ever, as if silently asking her intent.

“Do you think this is a fair trade?”

“Of course not.”

Eden replied as if stating the obvious.

“I am merely offering you a chance. Do you think there is any room for fairness between us?”

It was he who offered the choice, and she who had to choose. In a relationship so clearly divided between power and submission, fairness had no place—at least, not from his perspective.

“…Ha.”

He wasn’t wrong. Not if he weren’t forcing her hand. Cecilia let out a hollow laugh as she tried to shove him away, pressing against his chest with all her might.

But with wrists weaker than a child’s, there was a limit to what she could do. Soon, she was entirely trapped in Eden’s grip, breathless and struggling.

“It’s not easy, is it?”

“No. It’s not.”

“Even if this is your last chance?”

“Even if it is!”

Cecilia screamed, her voice raw with fury. She wanted nothing more than to spit in his face, and restraining herself took every ounce of willpower.

“You already knew where my father was, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

At her accusation, Eden smiled faintly. The strength in his hand, which had gripped her wrist so tightly moments before, slowly ebbed away. It had once seemed impossible to break free, but now—freedom came easily.

Because he let go.

“Yes. I’ve known where Curtis Rain was for some time.”

Eden murmured.

“I’m not so foolish as to not realize you were hiding him.”

There was no one on this earth who could escape the eyes of the Emperor.

“I was simply curious—what choice you would make.”

Cecilia let out a bitter laugh. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d been his playthings all along. Like puppets on strings, or prey toyed with before the kill, he had watched them from above, cold and detached.

“Fine. Kill him.”

Her voice turned venomous, the smile vanishing from her face like a lie dispelled.

“Kill my father. And me as well.”

“Cecilia.”

“I harbored a traitor. Isn’t that crime enough?”

Were it not for her tear-streaked face, the despair and sorrow she held within would have been nearly impossible to detect.

“No. You have to stay here, Cecilia.”

“Why? Why should I?”

Even as she shouted and fought him, she realized Countess Casper had been right. Admitting it now only deepened the pain beyond measure.

“You must suffer.”

Because Eden did not deny her words.

“You must come to know how agonizing and painful that place truly is, Cecilia.”

That was the position he had prepared for her. He said it so cruelly—yet with such a beautiful face. The man she had once loved was not someone capable of such words.

But he was. He truly was that man.

“Ha… Haha…!”

Cecilia laughed madly. Her frail body stumbled as she rose, then suddenly lunged at the imposing man before her, pushing him to the ground with desperate force. As Eden fell beneath her, Marquis Caliber rushed forward, shocked, but Eden raised a hand to stop him.

“If you want to kill me, you must strangle me, Cecilia.”

Eden spoke in a soft, almost gentle voice. Cecilia, obedient to his twisted advice, raised the hand that gripped his collar.

But she couldn’t do it.

“Is this the end?”

It wasn’t fear of facing the guillotine like her father—it wasn’t terror that froze her.

Though he lay there, willing to accept death in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to tighten her grip around his throat. Her hands trembled uncontrollably. Still straddling Eden’s chest, Cecilia buried her face against him and sobbed.

Eden allowed her to cry, silently watching over her for a long while.

Then, in a low voice, he whispered:

“Curtis Rain’s execution will be in three days.”

“……”

“At 9 a.m.”

Looking her straight in the eyes, Eden spoke gently, as if kindly ensuring she would not forget the time of her father’s death.

“The execution will take place in front of the Imperial Palace. It will be open to the public, so any citizen of the Empire may witness the death of a traitor.”

And as Eden had said, three days later, the execution platform was erected before the palace gates.

Curtis Rain—once the head of the greatest meritocratic noble house in Wyatt, the Duke of Rain, and the Emperor’s own father-in-law—was executed on the appointed day.

There was nothing special about it.

That was all.