A Witch Lives In The Emperor’s Bedroom - Chapter 8

Déjà Vu?

Bella blinked blankly, staring at Zenos seated across from her.

The situation felt eerily familiar, almost identical to that morning.

“It’s hot, my lady,” said a maid as she approached, setting a steak on Bella’s plate.

The steak, freshly served on a hot stone, was still sizzling. A heavenly aroma wafted up as the rosemary and various herbs on top mingled with the juices.

With a polite bow, the maid exited the dining room, leaving the two alone.

“Eat up. If we’re going to fill out those gaunt cheeks of yours, you’ll need to eat at least five meals a day from now on,” Zenos remarked lazily as he began slicing his steak.

Bella glanced down at the steak on her plate, its juices glistening invitingly. Swallowing the sudden rush of saliva, she picked up her utensils.

That’s right. There was no longer anyone here for her to tiptoe around or appease. The days of subsisting on scraps—stringy chicken necks or a few bits of mashed potatoes—were long gone, left behind in that dark, damp basement.

For the first time since she was seven years old, Bella began eating a meal without muttering a prayer first.

As she bit into the tender steak, the sweet, savory flavor and succulent juices melting under her teeth nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Did you know that some say witches are born as infants?” Zenos said casually, lifting a wine bottle to pour into their glasses.

“Oh, let me do that,” Bella offered, reaching for the bottle.

But Zenos pulled it back, giving her a disapproving look.

“Why?” he asked, his expression tightening.

“Um, well…” Bella hesitated, unsure how to respond.

“You’ve been conditioned to serve, that’s why. You’ve got to stop acting like a slave until that mentality is gone,” Zenos said bluntly.

“It’s not really a slave mentality… It’s just, if Your Grace is pouring wine, who wouldn’t feel compelled to take over? Then why not assign a maid to serve us?” Bella muttered timidly.

Zenos chuckled at her meek grumbling.

“Haven’t I told you before? When it’s just the two of us, you can act as brazenly as you like. Whether I’m pouring wine or scrubbing floors on my knees, it makes no difference. Besides, there’s no maid because you being a witch is a secret that can’t be exposed. And, honestly, it’s far more efficient to have the maids cleaning than serving meals. Satisfied with that answer?”

Bella thought for a moment, then nodded her head.

Indeed, after nearly fifteen years of subservience ingrained into her very being, Bella realized that learning to feign indifference while the duke poured wine was as good a place as any to start unlearning those habits.

“Let’s get back to the topic of witches,” Zenos said, taking a sip of the blood-red wine and setting his glass down.

“Witches are typically born as infants, but not always. About six hundred years ago, there was a case of someone awakening as a witch in adulthood.”

“Really? What happened?” Bella asked, leaning forward with interest.

“She awakened as a witch on the Witch’s Day. She killed a knight who had pushed her to the ground by driving a hole through his stomach. Another knight witnessed the event and reported it. She was captured, subjected to years of experiments, and eventually killed.”

“But then,” Bella said, her brow furrowing, “why doesn’t the empire keep all women under surveillance on the Witch’s Day, just in case they might awaken as witches?”

“Because when a witch is born as an infant, they are considered something entirely different—a being that’s no longer human, a creature of malice. But when a woman of the empire awakens as a witch? That’s an entirely separate phenomenon.”

“The public would fall into chaos,” Bella said thoughtfully. “And the persecution of women could become even more severe than it is now.”

“Exactly. And things that are difficult to predict could also happen. That’s why the imperial palace never disclosed the truth. To the public, witches are simply beings born as infants, and that’s where the narrative ends.”

“But what if an awakened witch loses control of her powers and harms the citizens? Are they just gambling with the empire’s safety for the sake of maintaining appearances?” Bella asked, her tone sharp.

“There’s a story about the witch from six hundred years ago,” Zenos replied, swirling the wine in his glass.

“A story?”

“When they tortured her, demanding that she confess everything she knew, she had a seizure. Then, as if possessed, she began muttering, her entire body glowing with a red light,” Zenos recounted, his words slow and deliberate as he recalled the details from the texts he’d read.

‘I am the mistake of the Demon God. There will never again be a witch like me who awakens in adulthood. You cannot contain a being as powerful as I am within your mortal limits. Only infants will descend upon the empire as witches from now on.’

“An awakened witch…” Bella whispered, the words resonating with her like a strange second name, evoking an inexplicable sensation.

“After that, no matter what they did to her, she didn’t speak another word,” Zenos said, his voice low as he filled his glass to the brim with wine.

“And because of that prophecy, the empire focused only on infants, ignoring the possibility of adults awakening as witches. But now, with your mysterious birth, that prophecy has been broken.”

Bella stared at the large steak in front of her before setting her utensils down. A strange dizziness began to creep over her.

“Do you really think I can keep the fact that I’m a witch a secret?” she asked softly.

“Didn’t you once say you were ready to live as a street vagrant if that’s what it took?” Zenos replied with a smirk.

“…That didn’t mean I was okay with dying,” Bella shot back.

“Do you know how long that witch from six hundred years ago was experimented on?” Zenos asked, his tone shifting to something more serious.

Bella hesitated, then shook her head.

“Seven years. Every single experiment was meticulously recorded. Thanks to those records, I know exactly what an awakened witch can do, and what kind of behavior they exhibit,” Zenos explained.

Bella remained silent, her fingers lightly trembling.

“And those records? Only the emperor and the royal family can access them. No one else even knows of their existence. No one would dare to suspect you of being a witch, especially since the empire doesn’t believe adults can awaken as witches. Besides, I plan to destroy those records at the first opportunity.”

“But what if His Majesty the Emperor, or one of the royal family, figures out my secret?” Bella asked, her voice tight with fear.

“The Crown Prince will need to study the witch records if he’s to ascend to the throne someday—seven years’ worth of detailed accounts. But he hasn’t even touched them yet,” Zenos replied confidently. “The second prince avoids the records altogether, worried that reading them might lead to misunderstandings about him. The third princess, who left for her studies abroad ages ago, hasn’t looked at them either. As for the empress? She’s practically a recluse, lost in apathy and indifferent to anything happening around her.”

“But the emperor… His Majesty must know about the existence of an awakened witch. Couldn’t he figure out who I am?”

“What could the emperor possibly know?” Zenos scoffed, furrowing his brows as if the suggestion was absurd.

“The only reason Pike has managed to hold onto the throne for so long is because of his tactician. The emperor’s survival depends on that person, and that’s the only one you need to worry about.”

“Tactician?” Bella tilted her head, confused.

“The emperor has a hidden tactician,” Zenos explained. “The empire’s prosperity, the victories in every border skirmish—all of it is thanks to this tactician. Even the idea of keeping the tactician’s identity a secret to enhance the emperor’s prestige? That was their plan too.”

“Have you ever seen this tactician?” Bella asked cautiously.

“Only once,” Zenos admitted. “They were wearing a thick black cloak, so I couldn’t see their face. But I did hear their voice—it was that of an old man. I suspect the cloak is to prevent anyone from identifying them or kidnapping them to exploit their abilities.”

“I see…” Bella murmured quietly.

“Finish your meal and go to bed early,” Zenos said, wiping his mouth with a napkin before abruptly leaving the table.

Once again, he exited the dining room before Bella even had a chance to rise and properly bid him goodnight.

With her appetite now gone, Bella decided to leave as well. Just as she began to stand, a sudden weight pressed down on her shoulder.

“Ah!” she yelped, startled.

Whipping her head around, she found Zenos standing behind her.

“Just as I thought. Pick up your fork,” he ordered.

“Y-Your Grace—”

“Eat. Didn’t I tell you to fill out those gaunt cheeks of yours?” he interrupted, his tone firm.

“…,” Bella hesitated, glancing at her plate.

“Now,” Zenos insisted.

Without waiting for her to respond, he grabbed a fork himself, skewering a piece of steak before bringing it to her lips.

Caught off guard, Bella instinctively opened her mouth, allowing him to feed her.

As the steak melted in her mouth, she sat there dumbfounded, the fork still lightly clamped between her lips.

“Finish it all before you leave,” Zenos said sharply. “I’ll send a maid to watch over you.”

Only after issuing this stern warning did Zenos finally leave the dining room for good.

***

“Miss… Miss.”

In the early hours, under the bright light of the moon, a maid gently shook Bella’s shoulder.

Half-asleep, Bella groggily opened her eyes, blinking as the maid spoke politely.

“Please wake up. His Grace the Duke is asking for you.”

“…His Grace? Why?” Bella murmured, rubbing her eyes and propping herself up.

The maid lit a candle and placed slippers at the edge of the bed for her.

“You must go to the bathhouse. You’re to wash and prepare to leave the estate.”

“Leave? At this hour?” Bella asked in confusion, glancing at the moonlight streaming through the window.

“I’m not sure, my lady, but you must hurry,” the maid urged.

Bella reluctantly slid into the slippers and followed the maid out of the bedroom, her body stiff from sleep.

After washing and donning a blue satin dress, Bella was attended to by several maids who began styling her hair and applying makeup.

“This feels way too elaborate for something at night,” Bella remarked uneasily, examining her reflection in the mirror.

“We don’t know the details either, my lady. We were only ordered to make you look as beautiful and striking as possible,” one of the maids replied, focusing on Bella’s hair.

They fluffed her hair to create volume, braided it loosely, and then coiled the braid into an elegant updo. The makeup emphasized her eyebrows and lips, lending her features a bold, dramatic allure.

“It’s finished, my lady. Allow us to escort you,” the maid said, setting down a makeup brush and gesturing respectfully for Bella to follow.

Feeling as though she was being swept along, Bella trailed after the maid. As they reached the door to the anteroom, it opened, and Bella found herself face-to-face with Zenos, who was waiting outside.

“So, you’re ready,” Zenos remarked flatly, his eyes scanning her face with an indifferent expression.

Bella was undeniably stunning, but Zenos was not the type of man to be swayed by a woman’s beauty.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly, taking the lead.

Though Bella was puzzled by this late-night outing, she followed him without protest.

As they exited the estate, she noticed a decrepit, shabby carriage waiting for them in the yard—a stark contrast to the one they had used the day before.

The coachman opened the door, and Zenos extended his hand toward Bella. When she hesitated to take it, he tilted his head slightly, a mocking smirk on his face.

“Will the future duchess refuse to take her husband’s hand?”

“…No, Your Grace,” Bella replied, placing her hand hesitantly in his.

Zenos helped her into the carriage before climbing in himself to sit across from her. Once the coachman shut the door and mounted his seat, the carriage began moving smoothly.

Zenos pulled the curtains down over the windows, blocking the view of the outside.

“There are three primary categories of a witch’s powers,” Zenos said, his voice deep and gravelly, likely from the early hour.

“Strength, magic, and seduction. Tonight, we’re going to determine which one of those is your strongest attribute. Every witch has one dominant ability,” he explained, his tone calm yet heavy with purpose.

“Where exactly are we going?” Bella asked warily.

“To a place fraught with danger.”

Danger.

For a moment, Bella felt a flicker of fear.

But it didn’t last long. Instead, a strange excitement began to swell within her, making her heart race.

Bella had spent her life in a monotonous kind of danger. Hunger and beatings were constants—predictable hardships she had endured countless times. While painful and frustrating, they were also dreadfully boring. There was no mystery in what form her suffering would take, no unknown challenges to anticipate.

So when Zenos mentioned they were heading toward danger, Bella’s heart began to thrum like a fish dropped back into water, alive and restless.

After what felt like an endless ride, the sound of rowdy voices began to filter into the carriage. The cacophony of drunken laughter and coarse shouting signaled that they had arrived in a chaotic, unsavory part of town.

Zenos slightly parted the curtain.

This was “Tanje Street,” known as the Empire’s seedy underbelly.

More lively at night than during the day, Tanje was filled with dishonored ex-knights, shady errand runners who handled dirty jobs, and prostitutes wandering the streets in search of food or money. It was a place no noble would ever dare set foot in their lifetime.

“Stop the carriage,” Zenos said, opening the small glass partition connecting him to the coachman. The carriage came to a halt almost immediately.

“Put this on,” Zenos instructed, handing Bella a cloak from a corner of the carriage.

Bella slipped on the large cloak, and Zenos donned his own as well. From his inner pocket, he pulled out a small pouch and handed it to her.

When Bella opened it, she found several silver and gold coins inside.

“Use it if you need to,” he said.

Bella tucked the pouch into her cloak pocket just as the coachman stepped down and opened the door for them.

As soon as the two emerged from the carriage, every eye on the street turned toward them.

“Be back before sunrise,” Zenos instructed the coachman.

“Yes, sir,” the coachman replied, intentionally omitting any honorifics before mounting his seat and driving off quickly. He understood the people of Tanje Street—if the carriage lingered even a moment longer, it would be stripped of its wheels by opportunistic thieves.

“Why didn’t you bring any guards?” Bella asked cautiously.

“Because I’m enough,” Zenos replied nonchalantly. “And besides, if the guards realized you’re a witch, it’d be a problem, wouldn’t it?”

He glanced around once, then adjusted Bella’s cloak to ensure it covered her fully.

“Let’s go in before we draw even more attention,” he added, gesturing for her to follow.

Together, they made their way to the very heart of Tanje Street, arriving at a run-down tavern.

When Zenos pushed the door open, it creaked loudly, the unnerving sound of poorly maintained hinges cutting through the noise inside.

“Steal the bracelet from the brown-haired man sitting in the middle of the bar,” Zenos whispered, pausing to glance back at Bella.

Bella looked at him, then handed back the pouch he’d given her earlier.

“Why?” Zenos asked, arching a brow.

“Because I could just give some of these men money and have them take the bracelet from him,” Bella said matter-of-factly.

Zenos chuckled softly. “Taking the easy way out, are you?”

“I assume you gave me the money hoping I wouldn’t choose such a simple solution,” she replied with a small smile.

Instead of arguing, Bella plucked a single silver coin from the pouch still in Zenos’s hand.

“This is for the drink,” she said with a sly grin before stepping into the tavern.

As she moved forward, Zenos’s sharp gaze followed her, noticing the glimmer of excitement in her expression.

She’s enjoying this, he thought to himself with mild amusement.