Pen and Paper Translations

“Yes, that’s right.”

Lev couldn’t quite bring himself to say out loud that he was the Emperor’s consort, so he answered vaguely.

Even so, Michel D’Albret clearly understood. His expression had turned somewhat downcast.

Presumably he was disappointed that Lev was the Emperor’s consort… though over what, exactly, Lev couldn’t say.

“Come over here. Since you’re here, have some tea with us.”

Guien beckoned Lev over. Having come this far, there was no backing out. Lev meekly started toward the spot the Emperor indicated, then faltered. Of all places, it was between the Emperor and Michel D’Albret.

Why does it have to be that seat, of all places…

Lev grumbled inwardly, unable to say it aloud, and sat between them. He angled his body slightly toward the Emperor for no particular reason.

It’s just… a little embarrassing.

He had coolly acknowledged that he was the Emperor’s consort, but that didn’t mean he could sit there facing them both as if nothing at all.

He had never once been ashamed of his work. It was a means necessary to live. So he could hold his head up no matter what he did.

Still, this is a bit much.

This too was, after all, a relationship bound by contract; one could call it a “job,” but it wasn’t something Lev could proudly declare.

Now what?

His plan to first build a personal rapport with Michel D’Albret and then help things along with the Emperor seemed to have gone awry.

If it came out that he was trying to bring the two of them together, first, the Emperor would not let it slide; second, the nobles might grow suspicious.

“They’d think I had some scheme.”

Even if his life was on the line and he had no choice, would anyone believe that? No, worse, he might be deemed in breach of contract and lose his head on the spot. That he wanted even less.

A brief, awkward silence fell.

Lev stared off somewhere in the garden, thinking about what he should do from here on.

Michel kept sneaking glances at Lev, wavering over whether to speak; the Emperor carefully watched the two of them.

“You look very handsome today, Sir Lev.”

In the end, the first to speak was Michel. He clearly wanted to all along And not to the Emperor, but to Lev.

Of all topics, though, clothes? Lev, who had just had a little scuffle over this very outfit, sighed inwardly.

His gaze went to the Emperor. Their eyes met at once.

“I see. Who are you trying to impress, dressing like that? It’s not your usual.”

As expected, the Emperor tossed out a crooked remark to match his crooked smile. Lev snapped back, sullen.

“Marco recommended it. He said I might see Your Majesty, so this would be best.”

Guien let out a short snort of laughter.

“Try putting in that much effort every day.”

Lev stared at the Emperor, whose lips were tilted in a smirk, in disbelief. He’d been stone-faced and nasty a minute ago; why the sudden good mood?

“Forget it. This doesn’t even suit me.”

Lev glanced down at his clothes. No matter how much he looked, he couldn’t get used to them.

Indoors, he hadn’t noticed as much, but now that he saw them, good grief, the pattern was needlessly gaudy. What on earth had possessed him to wear this?

“It does suit you. You look good.”

Watching Lev sink into gloom, the Emperor spoke with a laugh in his voice. Lev pulled a face.

Really, he’d never cared what Lev wore, why act like this today?

‘You look good,’ he says.

Even thinking it over again, the words didn’t fit. While Lev rubbed at his arms as if goosebumps had risen.

“The two of you seem very close.”

Michel piped up.

“In what way?”

Lev was briefly dumbfounded, then smoothed his expression with a silent “Ah….” Something had come to him.

Come to think of it, he was sitting here in this spot as the Emperor’s consort. Across from him sat Michel D’Albret. This was precisely when Lev needed to be faithful to his role.

“Yes, well. In the palace, His Majesty is the only one I can trust, rely on, and look to.”

He didn’t forget to turn and smile brightly at the Emperor as he said it. Guien snorted.

“Indeed. He is my cherished, favored consort. I ought to look after him.”

The Emperor served up the line as glibly as anything. Unlike Lev, who looked a touch stiff, his smile was smooth and natural.

Michel looked at the two of them in turn and let out a breath only he could hear. Lev, seated beside him, didn’t notice, but the Emperor, across the table, did at once.

“Will you be attending the birthday celebration as well, Sir Lev?”

Michel asked with an expression that somehow mixed expectation and nerves.

Why look at me like that…?

Lev gave another awkward smile. In truth, this was getting increasingly tricky. Michel D’Albret seemed a bit poor at reading a room.

In the Emperor’s presence, he kept directing interest and conversation at someone else… at the Emperor’s consort, no less.

And I can’t very well tell him not to make it obvious.

Lev sighed inwardly.

“You two must be fairly close, then?”

At the Emperor’s question, Lev sent him a look from an angle Michel couldn’t see: Why are you doing this?

“Why? Is that not the case?”

Guien noticed and feigned ignorance. In fact, given how his mouth had tilted even higher, he was obviously teasing.

“Yes. We happened to meet in a garden a few days ago.”

“I see. ‘A few days ago’—which day was that?”

The Emperor’s look said, Go on, tell me more. Michel looked helplessly at Lev, bewildered and uneasy about why the Emperor was so interested in their meeting.

“It was the day Your Majesty received the foreign envoys.”

Lev finally cut in. If he knew they’d met, why pry into the details. His tone turned prickly all by itself.

“So that was the day you left your room without permission and without a word.”

Back came a barbed remark. At the same time, Lev remembered how the Emperor had raked him over the coals that night. His expression crumpled on its own.

“Left without permission? What do you mean?”

Michel asked, worried and confused.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing for you to trouble yourself over, Sir Michel.”

That he had to get permission even to step outside his door? Lev couldn’t bring himself to say as much and left it at that.

At the way Lev drew a line, Michel’s expression shifted subtly, but Lev didn’t notice.

Guien, who had watched closely, lifted his brows sharply, then slowly lowered them.

“How did your dance practice go?”

The Emperor turned from looking at Michel to Lev. Michel, who’d been sunk in his own thoughts, looked up at the question.

The Emperor leaned his cheek on his fist and stared at Lev in a slouch that was downright delinquent. His tone was as light as if he were talking to a friend.

“I practiced till I dropped.”

Lev’s shoulders twitched as he answered. Even thinking of it again, it was something he never wanted to do twice.

“I heard Baroness Dampierre said it might be decent enough to show.”

When had he managed to pick that up while dining and taking tea with a guest? Lev felt more weary than impressed by the Emperor’s intelligence network.

“You heard that already?”

“It’s been quite a while. Well then, shall we see if you did today’s lesson properly?”

The Emperor spoke nonsense with a smile in his voice.

“Pardon? Now? Here?”

They were taking refreshments in an open pavilion in the middle of the pond. It wasn’t all that spacious; with the three of them seated around the stone table, there was no room to dance.

More worrying, Michel D’Albret still wore a baffled expression, clearly at sea about what was happening.

“Why not?”

“Let’s at least go inside….”

“You’ll have to perform in front of thousands gathered to celebrate my birthday anyway. There’s no harm in a preview.”

A preview for whom, exactly? Lev stared blankly as the Emperor rose to his feet.

“No.”

Oh, for— He swallowed the rest of it. But there was no way the Emperor missed the way Lev’s lips puckered in annoyance.

“No?”

“We have a guest present. I don’t think it’s proper.”

The Emperor folded his arms. His look said, Go on, say more; I’ll listen.

But Lev had nothing else to say. Honestly, what could be more ridiculous? Out of the blue, the Emperor and his consort, putting on a dance.

Lev stole a glance at Michel D’Albret. He looked completely at a loss, as if he had no idea what was going on.

Lev felt the same. Why? Why now? There was no telling what the Emperor was thinking.

“Not that I’ve ever known.”

“You’ll regret it.”

The Emperor’s tone turned oddly rough again—his expression and movements, too.

Lev started to feel uneasy. If he ignored this, something he couldn’t handle might happen.

“Fine.”

“Sir Lev?”

When Lev, unable to withstand the Emperor’s threat, sprang to his feet, Michel called out in a flustered voice as if to stop him. But before that, the Emperor snatched Lev’s hand.

Guien tugged Lev along just like that.

“Where are we going?”

Lev, docilely dragged along, still wore a question mark on his face. Leaving the pavilion and crossing the stone bridge, they stopped in a small clearing.

The Emperor lifted Lev’s hand a little higher and wrapped his other hand around Lev’s waist. Lev, awkwardly, assumed the basic stance for dancing. And a dance without music began.

Thump, clap-clap. Thump, clap-clap.

Lev focused every nerve on moving his feet as he’d been taught, while Guien’s gaze bored into Michel D’Albret, sitting in the pavilion and watching them.

Michel clenched his fists. He had simply thought he’d found a good conversational friend. No one around him had ever really understood him.

So he had wanted to meet often and talk about gardening and plants.

But that person, of all people, was the Emperor’s consort.

Michel couldn’t take his eyes off the two dancing. Watching Lev move to the steps, he felt strange. His stomach churned. No… that wasn’t it.

What do you even call this?

Michel pressed a palm against his heart. It was a feeling he couldn’t put into words.

As if his heart was pounding. Yes, a pleasant flutter.

Realizing suddenly what state he was in, Michel’s eyes went soft.

At that very moment, Lev caught sight of the faint dampness in Michel’s eyes.

Why does he look so wistful… ah, don’t tell me!

Lev’s gaze flicked to the Emperor, then back to Michel.

So that’s it. That’s why!

Why had the Emperor chosen this precise moment to dance? Perhaps it was to provoke Michel, to observe his reaction and judge whether he had feelings or not.

“Wow…”

Lev felt a peculiar sensation at becoming the supporting role needed for the two leads to confirm their feelings. He ought to be relieved but his heart didn’t seem to agree.

“You’ve become passable, at least.”

Guien spun Lev in a quick turn.

“Good to hear.”

Lev, wobbling through the turn and settling back into place, answered flatly. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to meet the Emperor’s eyes. He kept his gaze lowered.

“Look at me.”

Suddenly his chin was gripped and his face tilted up. Lev’s eye scrunched for a beat then froze at the gaze he met.

Softly arched eyes and smiling lips directed wholly at him.

His heart dropped with a thud. Startled, Lev shoved at the Emperor’s chest without thinking.

“What is it?”

Guien, his torso drawn slightly back by the push, asked in puzzlement. Lev gave no answer.

His mouth hung slightly open, his long eyes widened. He looked plainly shocked.

“Lev.”

Even when his name was called, Lev just stared at the Emperor as if dazed.

Guien studied the eyes meeting his. Ripples spread through them like a pond struck by a falling stone.

Lev pushed the Emperor again. This time, Guien didn’t resist. He obligingly took two steps back. Even so, his gaze never left Lev’s face.

“I think that’s enough.”

Lev dropped his eyes to the ground and declared the end. His voice trembled slightly.

Guien lifted one brow and let it fall, then folded his arms.

“Lev.”

His low, steady voice called to him. But Lev couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. If he did, he felt like his current state would be laid bare.

Of all times… now, in this moment.

“I’ll be going ahead!”

Unable to muster the courage to endure any longer, Lev whirled and all but fled toward the garden entrance.

Guien stared after his consort, who had bolted in a panic, wearing an expression of disbelief.

What the hell? What’s with him?

In the middle of their dance he suddenly went strange, and then had the gall to run off.