‘I must have imagined it because I was sleepy.’
The next morning, Lev was alone in the bed. All that tension for nothing—the spot beside him was empty. What, he could at least have said goodbye.
“Sir Lev, are you awake?”
He was grumbling from a vague sense of letdown when a familiar voice came from outside.
“Uh, yeah!”
Lev answered at once. The door opened and Marco came in carrying a basin.
The sight naturally brought last night back to him. Mortifying didn’t begin to cover it.
“Did you sleep well?”
Marco set the wash water on the table and asked kindly.
Thinking of last night, Lev couldn’t even meet his eyes and hurried to wash his face. The cold water snapped him fully awake.
After breakfast, Marco brought a change of clothes.
A black justaucorps and waistcoat and a frilled shirt, but the design was simple and the trimmings minimal.
Lev looked puzzled at the rather plain outfit. Noticing this, Marco explained why.
“The chief attendant told me to prepare something simple so you can work comfortably.”
“Really? Right now?”
Lev brightened immediately. He was so naturally industrious that the prospect of working from morning felt welcome.
He dressed, left the room, and to his surprise the place they arrived at was outside the palace.
Under the clear sky, Lev tilted his head at the sight of the chief attendant standing alongside a middle-aged man.
‘Who’s that?’
A face he’d never seen. Not that he knew anyone in this palace anyway. Even so, from his appearance he didn’t look like a noble—more likely a commoner. Above all, he was wearing work clothes.
“You’ve come, Master Lev.”
The chief attendant gave Lev a small smile as he approached.
“Yes. Good morning, Chief Attendant.”
“Did you sleep well last night too, Master Lev?”
“Uh, yes….”
Probably? At first the Emperor lying beside him had kept him on edge, but he’d slept well enough, so Lev answered with a smile. The chief attendant nodded as if to say “good,” then turned his gaze to the man standing beside him.
“This is Jacques, who oversees the Emperor’s gardens. He will tell you what you’re to do.”
Lev followed the chief attendant’s gaze and looked as well. Up close, he could read the man better: the clothes he’d thought were just clothes were stained with grass and dirt, and in a large leather roll were tucked long pruning shears and knives.
“Hello, Master Lev. An honor to meet you. I’m Jacques.”
Just as he’d guessed: the man was the head groundskeeper of the imperial gardens.
‘So when the Emperor mentioned the garden yesterday, this is what he meant.’
Lev immediately understood why he was here.
‘Honestly, he’s quick on the uptake.’
How did he come up with this so fast? Lev glanced sidelong toward the second floor, where the Emperor’s office would be buzzing with work.
In truth, he hadn’t expected anyone to be there.
“Huh.”
But there, on the balcony, stood an unexpected figure: the Emperor himself.
Bathed head to toe in the brightening morning light, the man shone dazzlingly. Was it his imagination? Even from far away, Lev had the odd feeling their eyes met.
The chief attendant entered the office and relayed the report he’d just received to the Emperor, who was seated at his desk reviewing papers.
“They say Master Lev is up and getting ready.”
Busy at his work, Guien shifted his gaze to the side—toward the door in the corner of the office.
“Personally see him to the head groundskeeper.”
Guien gave a curt order.
“Understood.”
The chief attendant answered without comment and left the office at once. Left alone, Guien rose with the teacup on his desk and walked to the window.
He opened the door, and fresh air spilled in. Guien stepped out.
Before long he saw Lev emerge outside the palace. The chief attendant and the groundskeeper, who had heard the Emperor’s orders, were already waiting in the garden.
At that moment Lev looked back. On his expressionless face, Guien read a faint touch of delight.
“He seems in quite high spirits.”
What on earth could the Emperor’s consort hope to do by working? Bemused, Guien nevertheless did not go back inside but sat at the table set on the terrace.
And when the chief attendant returned from carrying out his orders, Guien told him to bring the documents from the desk.
“The sun is strong, Your Majesty. Please come inside.”
“No, I’ll stay out longer.”
As he said this, Guien’s gaze was fixed on Lev as he moved through the garden. The chief attendant watched such an Emperor with cautious curiosity.
Working really did suit him. Lev, fairly cheerful, inspected the manicured shrubs and rosebeds.
What Jacques, the head groundskeeper, assigned were tasks even a novice could do: clearing messy cobwebs, deadheading flowers, picking up any litter.
Probably because he was the Emperor’s consort and they couldn’t give him anything too strenuous.
In any case, simply being able to work at all felt good, so he had no complaints. There were just a couple of things on his mind.
“Marco. Go on inside. I’ll head back to the room when I’m done.”
Lev said it lightly to Marco, who was trailing at his heels. The sun was climbing and the temperature rising, reddening Marco’s cheeks.
“I can’t.”
He’d said it out of concern, but Marco shook his head firmly.
“I need to stay by your side.”
Lev pulled a wry face, then gave up and turned his gaze away—only to land on another worry: the Emperor, taking tea on the balcony with the windows flung wide.
‘Isn’t this usually his busiest time?’
So why on earth was he sitting there?
He must be watching—checking whether Lev was working properly or not.
‘Or maybe he’s waiting for me to give up and come back in?’
Of course, the Emperor might simply be taking a break with tea. But Lev couldn’t shake the sense of being watched. If not, why linger on the terrace the entire morning?
“Ah! Master Lev! Careful!”
At Marco’s cry, a sharp pain shot through Lev’s finger. In the moment his attention wandered, a rose thorn drove deep into his thumb, and blood spattered down.
“Eek! Master Lev! Are you all right?”
Marco hurriedly wrapped Lev’s injured hand with his handkerchief.
“Uh… I’m fine.”
Just then there was a clatter from somewhere. Both Lev and Marco turned that way. The Emperor had shot to his feet and was looking their way. Even from a distance, Lev could feel the intensity of his gaze.
“I’ll fetch the court physician!”
“No, Marco!”
He wanted to say he was fine, that there was no need, but Marco was already sprinting away. He moved so fast his small figure vanished into the building in moments. Lev had noticed it before. He was quick to act.
Feeling a prickling at his crown, Lev looked up again. Behind the Emperor, the chief attendant was quickly retreating.
‘What’s with the chief attendant?’
Puzzled, Lev belatedly noticed the Emperor’s expression had tightened somewhat.
‘Was he worried?’
The thought flashed through his mind. After a moment’s hesitation, Lev walked to stand below the balcony.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
It was just a thorn prick—only, it had gone under the tender skin beneath the nail, so it bled a lot.
Lev even lifted his injured hand a little to show he was fine. But the Emperor merely knit his brows once and then turned on his heel.
“What the…?”
He thought he’d been worried. Apparently not.
Embarrassed, Lev started to scratch his brow out of habit, then realized it was the injured hand and just clicked his tongue. Of course it had to be the right one; this would be inconvenient for a while.
“Master Lev!”
In only a few minutes, Marco reappeared, a middle-aged man alongside him, the court physician, carrying a large bag.
“We ran right into him as soon as we went in. Lucky, huh!”
Marco panted as he hurried up to Lev. Lev gave him a fond smile.
“Please show me the injured hand.”
The physician, also apparently in a rush, wiped his sweaty brow as he spoke.
“Catch your breath first.”
Even as Lev told him to take his time, the physician glanced toward the terrace where the Emperor stood and shook his head.
“No. Master Lev, please show me the wound.”
Wondering what the hurry was, Lev removed the handkerchief. It had been wrapped so well the bleeding had stopped, though blood stained even the nail. The physician frowned as he examined the wound.
“Hmm… Fortunately, it doesn’t look very deep. I’ll disinfect it and wrap it with a bandage.”
Having given his assessment, the physician finally wiped his brow, then opened his bag and took out medicine and clean gauze to begin treatment.
When he poured alcohol on the wound, a sharp sting flared for a moment. Lev winced before he knew it.
“Master Lev! Does it hurt a lot?”
Marco, watching, asked with a worried face.
“No.”
He’d only furrowed his brow for a second, and already Marco looked stricken. Lev smiled instead, pretending it didn’t hurt.
Thankfully, the treatment was over quickly, leaving his thumb wrapped in bandages.
“Keep it out of water for the time being.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Lev bowed his head. The physician glanced—somewhere—again, then waved a hand as if to say all was well.
‘What is he looking at?’
As Lev puzzled over it, the physician quickly turned away as if it had been nothing.
Perhaps having heard Lev was hurt, Jacques appeared soon after. He inspected Lev’s hand carefully and spoke with a sigh.
“That’s enough for today. You should rest while your hand heals.”
“Rest, really.”
He’d worked doggedly to earn a day’s pay even with a fever from a cold. Was it really necessary to go that far over a mere thorn prick?
All the more since today was his very first day on the job. Lev didn’t want to rest, but Jacques was firm.
“Master Lev, you are His Majesty’s consort. You must care for yourself first. Otherwise I’ll be the one scolded.”
The Emperor’s consort. Hearing that said to his face for the first time, Lev couldn’t hide his discomposure.
“Uh, but…”
“Master Lev.”
He tried to protest again, but when Jacques shook his head, he couldn’t keep insisting; he knew that would only put Jacques in a tougher spot.
Lev agreed and trudged back into the palace. He went up the stairs to the second floor and was walking the corridor when he saw the Emperor standing in front of his room—no, more precisely, at the entrance to the office.
As he came a bit closer, he could clearly see the look of exasperation. Lev quietly hid his injured hand behind his back.
He grumbled inwardly: why come out of the office just to wear that sour look?
“Always so careless.”
So that’s why he’d come out—to sneer at him. Lev snapped his head up. Sure enough, the Emperor’s mouth had risen in an infuriating curl.
“It’s not that bad.”
Lev even showed off the bandaged hand as if to prove it. Suddenly, his hand was taken.
“Uh—” Lev blurted, startled.
The Emperor examined the bandaged hand, head bent so close he felt almost within touching distance.
Lev couldn’t look away from those golden eyes lowered over him. For some reason he felt blood pooling and heat gathering at his trapped fingertips again.
He could feel even his face and ears flushing hot.
‘What is thi… why am I like this?’
Before the flustered Lev could pull back, Guien released his hand first.
“You must be hungry. Let’s go.”
“Pardon?”
Once again Lev didn’t catch on immediately. But Guien offered no further explanation and simply turned on his heel. Lev was left blinking in confusion.
“…What?”
Was that an invitation to eat with me? Now, of all times?
Was that really what he meant? Lev’s face slowly shifted into disbelief.
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