Pen and Paper Translations

“Fine. You’re my consort, so I can at least grant that.”

At the word consort, which spelled out what his new role would be, Lev grew oddly self-conscious and scratched his temple, glancing around the carriage interior.

“What are you looking for?”

The Emperor, propping an arm on the sofa back and resting his head on it, asked lazily.

“Ah! If you have paper and a pen, I’d like to borrow them for a moment….”

“For what?”

“To put the agreement in writing.”

Guien straightened, an incredulous look in his eyes. Bold… so bold it was almost refreshing. 

Curious what Lev intended, he opened a small drawer, took out blank paper and a quill pen, and set them before him.

Lev snatched them up and began writing neat, deliberate lines. Guien’s gaze followed the pen; the script was tidy.

The text quickly filled the page:

“Lev Schilly promises to serve as the Emperor’s consort until the end of this year. Accordingly, Emperor Guien Angoulême promises to spare Lev Schilly’s life once during the contract period, no matter what wrongdoing he commits.”

Finishing, Lev held the sheet out to the Emperor.

“Please sign here. Right here.”

He tapped the bottom of the contract with his forefinger. Guien’s eyes followed the white finger resting on the words, then flicked to Lev’s face, then back to the crude contract.

A crooked smile tugged at Guien’s lips. Truly unpredictable and somehow not unpleasant.

Lev, fearing he had offended the Emperor, began to watch for a reaction when Guien silently picked up the pen. 

He’s going to sign, Lev thought, fixing his gaze on the pen tip.

At last the Emperor’s hand moved. Lev swallowed.

“…?”

But what Guien wrote was not a signature. He added several new lines instead:

“Emperor Guien Angoulême will, as compensation, repay the debts of Lev Schilly’s family.
If the contract is violated, Lev Schilly must reimburse ten times the repaid amount. Upon contract expiration, Emperor Guien will additionally pay Lev Schilly five thousand gold coins.”

Lev’s eyes grew wider with every line. Finally, his mouth hung open.

“What, is it unsatisfactory?”

At the Emperor’s question, Lev hastily shook his head. Five thousand gold coins—! In the Empire a gold coin weighed about 3.75 g, roughly the value of 100,000 won. Five thousand coins meant around five hundred million won and with local prices, enough to live comfortably for decades or use as business capital.

Hearing no objection, Guien signed beneath the clauses he had just added. Though dashed off, the handwriting was elegant, very much like its owner. Pretending to fold the paper away, Lev sneaked a glance at the Emperor’s face: even more breathtaking than any painting.

Well… a good deal is a good deal.

He only had to endure this year. Then he would receive a fortune and could enjoy the rare view of such a beauty up close.

Surely, I won’t die before then, right?

If the worst came, he could always run. Lev steeled his resolve.

---

Rattle.

Urgh!

Lev felt his life in danger: at this rate he might die before they even reached the palace. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he fought dry heaves. Tears pricked his eyes.

While he suffered as though dying, the man opposite him slumbered peacefully.

Lev swallowed his sigh and the saliva pooling in his mouth. Within half a day, he realized painfully how much he had overestimated himself.

Motion sickness in a carriage—who would have guessed?

He had never ridden so long before, so at first, he didn’t notice. But once the carriage entered the central road from Touloun to the capital, Hupec, the ordeal began.

The flat-laid stone roadway jolted badly. His body bounced, and soon his stomach churned.

Still, Lev tried desperately not to show it. The Emperor already looked down on him enough; he didn’t want to appear weak as well.

But life rarely follows one’s wishes. If it did, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Ugh.”

Another jolt and nausea rose. Although he covered his mouth, he couldn’t stifle the sound. Bile climbing his throat twisted his expression.

Guien opened his eyes slowly. His gaze landed on Lev, whose eyes were wet as if about to cry, hand over mouth like someone struck by great sorrow.

“Provincial as can be… looks like a man who’s never ridden a carriage.”

Since Lev really never had, he couldn’t argue. He only pouted and stared at the floor, grumbling inwardly, Yes, yes, you’re wonderful!

Knock knock.

A tap sounded on the wall. A small window to the coachman’s seat slid open and a voice asked if anything was needed.

“Take a rest.”

Guien answered curtly. The carriage slowed and stopped.

The Emperor stepped outside without a glance at Lev. Left alone, Lev wiped the sweat on his brow.

Through the open door he saw gentle hills like waves and sheep grazing peacefully.

After a moment he too climbed out. Guien was already seated at a table the chamberlain had set, sipping tea. It was a scene so graceful and serene that Lev felt a fresh stab of irritation.

He turned away and shaded his eyes, looking into the distance: an endless meadow.

Then he peeked sideways at the Emperor. In appearance alone, Guien truly deserved to be called the most beautiful emperor in history. Illustrations hadn’t done justice to reality.

That must be what people mean when they say art can’t match life.

But his personality…

Somewhat different from the original.

I expected him to be cold, merciless, and cruel.

He was self-willed and prickly, yes, yet didn’t seem the type to kill casually.

Even last night he’d pursued Lev, and instead of killing him had proposed a contract and even added generous terms.

None of that mattered. Right now, something else weighed on Lev’s mind.

“Your Majesty.”

Just as he spoke, the sun slipped from behind a cloud. Golden hair poured with light, dazzlingly bright.

Lev narrowed his eyes and involuntarily sighed in admiration.

“What do you want?” Guien asked sharply. Lev, too busy admiring the handsome face, had to recall why he’d called him.

Ah, he wanted to ask what he was supposed to do.

“What should I do once we reach the palace?”

Guien set down his teacup, folded his arms, and gazed at Lev.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. It was more like Why bother asking? Perhaps he meant, Figure it out yourself.

Feeling it was a stupid question, Lev scratched his temple. The Emperor didn’t seem the helpful type.

“Just stay quiet. Come at once when called.”

Lev was turning away, giving up on an answer, when the curt words reached him. Treated almost like a pet, he pouted and rubbed his forehead.

Having nothing more to ask and unable to chat with the Emperor, Lev looked around and drifted toward the chamberlain waiting by the coach.

Guien, sipping tea, watched. He saw the usually silent, dignified chamberlain smile faintly at whatever Lev said.

For quite a while the two chatted, occasional laughter floating over.

Strange.

Throughout tea, Guien’s gaze seldom left them… more precisely, the young man who kept polite distance from him yet talked readily with the chamberlain, coachman, and mounted guards.

His cup emptied.

“Back on the road!”

Guien set down the cup and rose. Time to move again.

Seated in the coach, he crossed his legs and waited for the familiar face to appear but the carriage rolled away without him.

Frowning, Guien tapped the wall. The window to the coachman opened—and Lev’s face popped in.

“Why are you there?”

“Because of the motion sickness. I asked the chamberlain for permission.”

Shouldn’t such matters be reported to him? Guien thought for a moment, then waved it off. No need to fuss over trivialities.

The window closed; silence returned. Guien folded his arms and shut his eyes… only to open them at the sound of laughter outside. 

What amusing story are they sharing? Again, he dismissed the thought. It was not worth his attention.

---

Leaving Touloun, Lev and the Emperor’s party reached the Imperial Palace after a week.

Ordinarily, the trip from the southern port city to the capital, Hupec, took three days by coach, ten on foot. But Lev’s constant motion sickness stretched the schedule. He watched the Emperor’s mood all the while though Guien never showed the slightest concern.

Still, the delay benefited Lev: he built some rapport with the chamberlain and even the captain of the guard, who, burly as he looked, was surprisingly talkative and told Lev about central nobles and palace life.

Lev’s knack for befriending anyone, anywhere, helped although it faintly irritated Guien, who, despite pretending indifference, observed him closely. Even Guien himself didn’t notice the irritation.

Result: as soon as they entered the capital, Guien called Lev back into the coach and ordered the driver to run straight to the palace without another stop, a decision born of a faint pique he failed to recognize.

Thus, when they arrived, Lev’s spirit was half gone.

The transformed cityscape, the gilt palace gates, the silver-bright marble plaza, perfectly manicured gardens and varied buildings, and finally the grand palace itself, wings spread like a magnificent bird—none of it registered in his dazed mind.

“Show him to the room beside the office,” Guien commanded the chamberlain arrogantly after passing the great doors.

“That room….”

The usually imperturbable chamberlain glanced at the Emperor in rare dismay and the servants who had gathered to greet their returning sovereign exchanged looks at the unfamiliar young man.

The room beside the Emperor’s office had once been a resting place for successive emperors, but Guien’s predecessor had turned it into a secret chamber for pleasures with his consort.

Furnishings were limited to an enormous bed filling almost the whole space and a small table—hardly suitable for living. Since Guien’s accession it had been unused and unattended.

To lodge the newcomer there….

The chamberlain grasped the Emperor’s intention: spread rumors that this youth was a lustful kept man, while keeping him under strict watch away from the nobles.

Even now the servants’ glances at Lev were anything but ordinary.

The chamberlain’s eyes briefly held pity for the young man about to begin a suffocating palace life, but the look vanished. Whatever his sovereign desired, he must obey.

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

He motioned to a servant to check the room’s condition. Once the servant hurried off, Guien climbed the stairs without so much as a glance at Lev.

Still woozy, Lev only realized the Emperor was gone after a moment.

“Huh? Where is His Majesty?” he asked the chamberlain, bewildered but the chamberlain was signaling another servant.

“Come here. Show Lord Lev the way.”

“Yes, Chamberlain!”

The servant trotted over and glanced Lev up and down, clearly not welcoming.

“Follow me.”

While Lev debated whether to greet him, the servant bowed stiffly. His tone dripped displeasure.

Whatever. Lev, bone-tired, cared only about a place to rest.

“We’re here.”

At last, they reached a second-floor room. Unlike the palace’s lavish decor, this chamber held only sparse furniture and an oversized bed. Dust lay thick, the linens were rumpled and thrown askew.

The servant cast Lev a sly look, curious how an unwelcome guest would react—anger, at least dismay. Instead Lev tottered in a daze; all he wanted was to lie down.

“Hey!”

The servant called, astonished, but to Lev the voice was a lullaby.

“Just need a little sleep….”

With those drowsy words Lev collapsed into slumber.

The servant, after watching the Emperor’s man drift off, left the room. In the corridor, the chamberlain awaited.

“Lord Lev?”

“Asleep.”

The chamberlain nodded once and turned away. The servant, wondering at his concern, couldn’t resist asking:

“Chamberlain… who is that man?”

Without breaking stride, the chamberlain answered calmly.

“A guest of His Majesty who will reside here.”

The servant stared at the door of the adjoining room, knowing all too well what lay within.

“No… surely…!”

The chamberlain seemed to guess the unspoken words and merely nodded before walking on never noticing the servant glower at the closed door behind which Lev slept.