Die Melusine - Chapter 60

The clear, early winter sunlight spilled softly through the emperor’s reception room.

A woman with golden hair expertly braided atop her head fluttered her long lashes slowly, asking in a gentle voice,

“Is there anything you’d like to receive as a gift?”

“Hm… I wonder.”

Edvard swirled the cup in his hand and moistened his lips with his tongue.

“As an old friend, haven’t I made sure to get you something every year? I can’t leave this one out.”

Estelle poked at the bright red raspberry atop the cake with her fork—deliberately, a little irritably—as she added her comment. She’d seated herself beside the emperor rather than across from him, subtly brushing her elbow against his arm now and then.

They were sharing a moment of tea and dessert after lunch.

She hadn’t liked how distracted he’d seemed during the meal, his attention clearly somewhere else.

Estelle genuinely enjoyed spending time with Edvard. He treated her with the delicacy of someone handling a porcelain doll—like something precious he’d always wanted but had never been allowed to have. Like a treasure long denied.

Though known for being temperamental and capricious, the emperor was always kind and careful with her.
And more than anything, she enjoyed playing with the faint, unspoken tension that hung between them. He always pretended not to notice, and she took pleasure in that silent understanding.

And it made her feel powerful, being the one woman the emperor could never have—when he could have anyone else he desired.

After all, people always longed for the things they couldn’t possess.

“What should I ask for… as a gift?”

His thoughts drifted again, and the conversation circled without progress. Estelle disliked how often he repeated himself, but she waited patiently.

Popping a small bite of mousse cake into her mouth, she glanced sideways at Edvard’s profile.

He’d been so adorable when he was younger…

With his impeccable bloodline, the emperor’s appearance was nothing short of striking. His high-bridged nose, sharp jawline, and well-drawn brows gave him a regal air. Unlike the more ruggedly defined Grand Duke, Edvard had a soft, fair beauty. Many had whispered that if he’d been born a princess, he would have bewitched the entire continent.

If she’d married him, as her father once dreamed—if she had become empress—what sort of life would she be living now?

Sometimes, she let herself imagine.

Even though her real tastes leaned more toward the Grand Duke—her soon-to-be husband.

“What about her?”

“Pardon?”

“As my birthday gift,” he said. “That woman.”

That woman…?

Estelle didn’t understand right away. But once she did, a faint crease formed between her brows.

She didn’t care what had happened between the emperor and that foolish woman that day.

What irked her was hearing that name from his lips—again.

If things had gone the way he wanted, perhaps he’d have lost interest by now. So it hadn’t gone the way he wanted? Or was it that even once hadn’t been enough—that she was that memorable?

Ugh. What a ridiculous thought.

Estelle had felt off ever since that woman appeared.

She shook her head, recalling the necklace Melusine had worn—a collar of sorts, engraved with the Grand Duke’s initials. It looked like something made for a pet, and yet, despite that, it had upset her.

And she’d never imagined the Grand Duke would actually bring that woman to the palace. When she unexpectedly encountered them there, it had completely thrown her.

Especially with the wedding preparations set to begin in earnest this winter.

She’d tried arranging a private meeting with the Grand Duke through her handmaid over the past few days, but ever since the delegation from Mäckellan had arrived, he hadn’t left his chambers.

And every attempt had been declined.

The more she thought about it, the more her pride stung.

Melusine was undoubtedly beautiful—exceptionally so, even by imperial standards. But beyond that? She had nothing. No grace, no refinement, barely any education—hardly someone one could hold a proper conversation with.

“Oh… you mean that woman from Vercez, perhaps?”

Estelle let her voice trail off with feigned casualness, lacing her tone with the faintest sneer.

The emperor, slouched lazily in his chair from too much morning drink, suddenly sat upright at her words.

“What? Ver…cez?”

“Yes. Didn’t she tell Your Majesty herself? She told me, last time. Said it straight from her own mouth—that she was from Vercez.”

It felt faintly like she was revealing something she shouldn’t, but she let it slide.

Estelle still didn’t truly believe the woman was a mermaid. But it was clear the emperor had taken some interest in her, and Estelle figured there was no harm in seasoning that curiosity just a little. Especially if it turned to her advantage.

A faint scoff escaped Edvard’s lips, laced with disbelief.

“No wonder something felt off… Ah, so Melusine, huh?”

As he muttered her name to himself with an odd little laugh, Estelle looked at him closely.

“Do you… know that name?”

“Of course I do. Don’t you, Lady Estelle of House Hesnal?”

Estelle tilted her head slightly in response.

“It’s a famous name from an old legend. A mermaid. My father used to tell me stories about her when I was young.”

“Oh…”

Come to think of it, Estelle vaguely remembered hearing something like that too. The Empire had dozens of mermaid legends and fairytales—she just didn’t recall the details.

“So that’s why my uncle’s gone mad? Doing things he’s never done before.”

A mermaid from legend…

Edvard’s sneer sharpened. This time, it was Estelle who stiffened.

“And what do you mean by ‘things he’s never done before,’ Your Majesty?”

“Estelle.”

Her name, spoken gently—like in the days when they were still childhood friends.

Edvard leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand and bringing his face close to hers.

“Men like me… look for one of two things in a woman.”

His pitch-black eyes, clouded like a storm, pierced her. The pressure of his stare churned something in her stomach.

“They either serve your power, or they satisfy your body. I chose the former.”

“…Excuse me?”

No matter how outrageous Edvard could be, Estelle never imagined she’d hear something so base come out of the emperor’s mouth. Even she, well-versed in the art of masking emotion, couldn’t stop the red rising in her cheeks.

“And yet Lady Estelle of House Hesnal seems to think she’s both.”

Edvard reached across and picked a raspberry from her plate, popping it into his mouth with an infuriatingly smug expression.

“To me, you’re the former. To my uncle… you might be neither.”

“W-what does that mean… Ed—Your Majesty!”

“Doesn’t matter if you disagree. Just chalk it up to one man’s opinion.”

It was blatant sexual harassment—deeply insulting, far beyond any boundaries of propriety. Were he not the sovereign of the empire, there would be no reason for a woman like Estelle to endure such words.

She clenched her trembling hand beneath the table and replied, firmly and clearly, with the bare minimum of courtly grace.

“I don’t believe Your Majesty knows the Grand Duke as well as you think you do.”

“Ah, well. I used to agree with you—until recently.”

Edvard licked his lips again, the gleam in his eyes unsettling. Estelle looked away, disturbed by the implications.

“And what… exactly changed?”

Such a sharp voice—and yet he found it endearing.

Edvard picked up the raspberry he had taken and gently returned it to Estelle’s cake plate.

“Last night… Melusine, was it? I played a little trick on her, and our dear uncle looked at me with the eyes of a real man. Thought he was going to eat me alive, I swear.”

Oh, terrifying.

Edvard theatrically hugged himself and gave an exaggerated shudder.

He played it off lightly in front of Estelle, but the truth was, what happened with the Grand Duke had left a humiliating mark on him. So much so that he’d barely been able to focus on the meal, stuck replaying the memory again and again.

He had strictly ordered that no word of it spread in the palace, but even that didn’t feel like enough.

Estelle tried to lift the corners of her mouth into a smile, but the effort tore at her. Inside, she was fraying.

Sure, as Edvard himself admitted, he was a man constantly drunk on liquor and laced with drugs—perhaps his judgment was never sound to begin with. That, she could almost brush aside.

What made it unbearable was the fact that she had seen it too.

At a ball. In town. That look in her fiancé’s golden eyes, directed toward that woman—that animal.

A look she had never received herself. A look that clung with heat and hunger and depth.

“It doesn’t matter. Not to me.”

Estelle spoke firmly. But the crooked smile and crescent-shaped eyes she forced into place weren’t like her usual self. Seeing that, Edvard recalled, for the first time in a while, the shadow of a lustful curiosity he used to harbor for her in their youth.

“After all, the Grand Duke and I will soon be married. And that’s not something anyone can sever so easily.”

“Ahh. I see.”

Edvard barely acknowledged her words, despite the desperate insistence that tinged them.

Normally, a woman like this would be easy to seduce, especially now. Taking the Grand Duke’s fiancée wouldn’t change the line of succession—he was the emperor, after all.

And yet, even Edvard couldn’t quite explain why he didn’t feel like it. Not this time.

A pink-hued fairy, a mermaid from Vercez…

This is getting more entertaining than I expected.

He licked his lips again, remembering the blue eyes that had once sparkled up at him.
Thinking about how he might use this new discovery to his advantage.