What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 116
“If you’re so worried about prying eyes here, what will you do in a banquet hall packed with nobles?”
“Isn’t it normal to do nothing?”
“What’s wrong with spending a little intimate time with my beloved wife?”
“Things like that should be reserved for more private settings…”
“Does that mean it’s acceptable in private spaces?”
Ysaris closed her mouth again. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him he could express himself freely. Kazhan’s unabashed actions often left her at a loss for words.
Observing her expression, Kazhan relented instead of pressing further and extended his hand again, this time with a more straightforward explanation.
“Would you lend me your left hand for a moment?”
“…If you had just said that from the start, how much easier would it have been?”
Muttering in slight embarrassment, Ysaris placed her left hand on Kazhan’s outstretched palm. She wondered why he insisted on distinguishing between her right and left hand, but she soon realized the reason.
From within his coat, Kazhan produced a stunning diamond ring. Holding her hand firmly, he slid the ring onto her ring finger with an almost reverent solemnity.
“This is our wedding ring. My apologies for returning it to you so late.”
“Our wedding… ring?”
“Yes. I commissioned the Magic Tower to imbue it with protective enchantments, which took some time. I wanted to ensure you wouldn’t get hurt again.”
Ysaris stared blankly at the ring snugly fitted on her finger. Its intricate design refracted light brilliantly, a fitting symbol for the Imperial couple’s wedding bands.
As she flexed her fingers, the ring’s weight and texture felt familiar, as if it had always belonged there. There was no discomfort or awkwardness. Yet, despite its perfect fit, Ysaris felt an odd urge to remove it.
“….”
‘It must be because I’m not used to it yet. It’s still hard to wrap my head around being married.’
Fidgeting silently with the ring on her hand, Ysaris glanced at Kazhan’s left hand. Where there had been nothing just yesterday, an identical ring now adorned his finger.
“Yours was left with the Magic Tower as well?”
“Of course. It’s a pair with yours, isn’t it? It wouldn’t mean much if only one had the enchantment, so I asked for both.”
“And the Imperial Consort?”
A pause.
Both Ysaris, who had asked the question on impulse, and Kazhan, who looked as if he had been struck by a hammer, froze. An awkward tension filled the air.
“…The Consort?”
“Well, um… I was just wondering if she also has an identical ring. Even if she’s merely a figurehead, all the formalities must have been observed…”
Since the topic wasn’t one she had intended to broach, Ysaris began to ramble. She couldn’t fathom why she had brought up the Consort now of all times, and her own bafflement made her uneasy.
She had learned about the Consort when reviewing a list of noble families. Kazhan had briefly explained that the Consort, from the Marquis of Longiten’s household, was a political arrangement and nothing more.
She had never seen the woman and hadn’t thought about her much… until now.
“Forget it. It’s not important. I can’t believe I’m asking such a random question.”
“Should I remove her?”
“What?”
Kazhan gazed at Ysaris, then bent slightly to place a kiss on her ring. His voice was calm yet chilling as he murmured.
“I mean the Consort. If she bothers you, I’ll depose and remove her.”
“Pardon?!”
Ysaris’s voice pitched up in disbelief. Taking that as an answer, Kazhan calmly continued.
“A failed joke, I see. I’ll improve.”
“Who makes such grim jokes? You scared me, Kazhan!”
“I only wanted to convey that I’d do anything to please you.”
Sighing in relief, Ysaris shook her head,
“Just explain it like that from the start. That’s much more pleasant to hear.”
“I’ll remember that. You like my confessions.”
“…Are you teasing me?”
“Not at all. I am always sincere when it comes to you.”
The previously strained atmosphere dissolved, replaced by a much lighter one. As their surroundings grew peaceful again, Kazhan glanced toward the Consort’s palace.
It’s time to clean it out. Its purpose has run its course.
Such thoughts barely disturbed his calm demeanor, though the moment was interrupted by a youthful voice calling out.
“Papa?”
“Mikael.”
Kazhan turned to greet his son. Judging by the dirt and stains on the boy’s clothing, he had been thoroughly enjoying the garden, but Kazhan paid no mind and scooped him up with ease.
“You’re still so light. We need to make sure you eat more.”
He deftly wore the mask of a ‘loving father,’ a role he had carefully observed others to perfect, all for Ysaris’s sake. His polished act created waves when it carried over to the day of the banquet, leaving quite the impression.
