My Child’s Father Is the Emperor - Chapter 6

“Daddy!”

Leo’s excited shout shattered the delicate balance of Adel’s forced composure, and her smile vanished.

Turning her stiff neck, she saw the emperor standing there, having arrived without her noticing.

“Your Majesty,” Yuria and the maids said in unison, bowing deeply.

Adel quickly followed suit, her heart racing. “Greetings to His Majesty the Emperor.”

“Raise your head,” he commanded.

Adel straightened and waited as the emperor took a seat at the tea table. A maid approached, pouring hot tea into his cup.

Now seated around the round tea table were the emperor, Adel, and Leo, creating a surreal and tense atmosphere.

“Leopold. Did you sleep well?” the emperor asked.

“Yes,” Leo answered casually, using informal speech.

Adel’s eyes widened in shock.

Thankfully, the emperor seemed unfazed.

“Leo, use respectful words,” Adel said gently but firmly.

Leo blinked, momentarily puzzled. He had only ever added “yo” to his words when he wanted something from her.

“Did you, sleep well, yo?” he asked, the “yo” tacked on awkwardly.

“I slept well,” the emperor replied, his tone steady.

“Why did you come so late, yo?” Leo asked, tilting his head, his curiosity unfiltered.

“Because I had important duties to attend to.”

“What kind of work do you do, yo? Is it easy, yo? Or is it hard, yo?” Leo continued, mimicking his usual informal speech with conspicuous effort to tack on polite endings.

Adel pressed a hand to her temple, already feeling a headache coming on.

“Well,” the emperor replied, “it can be easy, or it can be hard.”

“I want to see you work,” Leo said, bouncing on his seat with excitement, his cheeks flushed like blooming roses.

“How happy he must be to have a father,” Adel thought, her heart heavy.

“How can he call him Daddy so naturally, as if they’ve known each other forever?”

Suppressing a pang of sadness, Adel forced herself to smile faintly.

“Very well. I’ll bring you to my study someday,” the emperor said, his composure unshaken.

Everything about the interaction between father and son felt oddly natural, as though they had always been like this. The only one feeling uncomfortable and out of place was Adel herself.

Her unease settled like a weight in her chest.

“Leo, you can go play now,” the emperor said, his tone gentle.

“Okay!” Leo shouted gleefully, dashing off toward the maids with boundless energy.

The emperor’s gaze shifted to Adel.

“Adel.”

She looked at him, her expression hardening instinctively to match his unreadable face.

“Yesterday’s incident was a misunderstanding.”

“What do you mean, Your Majesty?” Adel asked cautiously, keeping her gaze fixed on the teapot to avoid meeting his eyes.

“I didn’t order for you to be sent to the prison,” he stated, his tone firm but calm.

Adel’s hands clenched under the table, but her voice remained steady.

“Your Majesty, I hold no misconceptions about you,” she replied, her words carefully chosen.

The emperor’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if studying her reaction, but his face betrayed no emotion.

If he claimed it was a misunderstanding, what else could Adel say?

What more was there to utter beyond a simple, “I see, Your Majesty”?

He was the emperor, after all.

“Thank you for your generosity,” Adel replied, her voice steady.

But in truth, nothing had changed. Her surroundings were no longer a prison cell but a clean, luxurious room. That was all.

She felt as though she were a lone boat adrift in a stormy sea, tossed mercilessly about. And it was none other than the emperor who had cast her into this merciless ocean.

“Not even a single question about how I’ve been. Not a word of gratitude for giving birth to his child.”

Adel’s heart ached with resentment and disappointment, but she dared not voice it aloud. Not to the man with such overwhelming power, whose authority left no room for challenge.

She could only build an invisible wall between them, maintaining a safe distance with polite gratitude. She was nothing more than one of the empire’s countless subjects, a blade of grass beneath his feet.

Resistance wasn’t an option.

“I intend to bring Leopold to the next council meeting of the nobles,” the emperor declared.

Adel’s head shot up, her eyes widening in alarm.

“Your Majesty, are you saying…”

The emperor met her gaze, his tone unwavering. “Leopold is my son. He cannot remain on a commoner’s registry.”

“Your Majesty! I—” Adel began to protest, but his cold words cut her off.

“Your opinion on this matter is unnecessary.”

Adel let out an incredulous laugh before she could stop herself.

The emperor’s brow furrowed slightly as he asked, “Why are you laughing?”

“It’s nothing. Nothing at all, Your Majesty,” she replied, suppressing the bitter amusement that twisted her lips.

To him, she was truly nothing.

The emperor shifted his focus back to his tea, sipping it with calm deliberation.

“How can he drink so easily after saying such things?” Adel wondered, her despair deepening.

Every action he took seemed to emphasize how utterly different they were—how insurmountable the divide between them was.

“I really mean nothing to you, don’t I?”

In the Albrecht Empire, the social hierarchy was rigid: royalty, nobility, commoners, and slaves.

A noble or a member of the royal family killing a commoner or a slave was not considered a crime. It only became a punishable offense if the victim was of equal or higher status. Even then, unless certain rare conditions were met, justice was a far-off dream.

A noble could marry a commoner or a slave if they wished. But a member of the royal family? They could only marry someone of equal or noble birth.

Adel, unmarried and still addressed as “Miss Ernst,” had registered Leo as her illegitimate child. Meanwhile, the emperor, also unmarried, was now claiming he would add Leo to the royal family registry.

This meant that Leo’s status would shift from being a commoner’s illegitimate child to a royal one.

But there was no way for Adel, a commoner, and the emperor, a royal, to marry.

“Then what does this mean for me?” Adel thought furiously.

“Your Majesty,” she said, her voice trembling with restrained anger. “If Leopold becomes your son, doesn’t that mean he stops being mine?”

Once Leo was added to the royal registry, Adel would legally lose all maternal rights over him. She wouldn’t even be considered his mother in the eyes of the law.

“Is it not enough for him to be my son?” the emperor replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

Adel felt a wave of hollow despair wash over her.

“Would it have been better if I had just died?”

She had carried Leo in her womb for ten long months, had endured the pain of childbirth alone, and had raised him for three years without anyone’s help.

And now, just like that, she was expected to give him up.

But Adel couldn’t even refuse the emperor’s decision to take her child.

He hadn’t asked for her opinion—he was merely informing her of what was already decided.

“Is this what I fought so hard to stay alive for?”

The question hung heavy in her heart, filling her with an unbearable emptiness.

Life felt meaningless.

Only moments ago, the serene beauty of Lake Biner had seemed soothing, and the picturesque tea table adorned with its delicate and sweet trimmings was a small comfort.

Now, none of it is registered.

 

* * *

 

For the past few days, Van had been consumed with catching up on overdue work.

Today, however, he brought Leo to his office.

The boy’s eyes sparkled as he took in the grand surroundings, fascinated by everything in the emperor’s study.

Van had also invited Adel to join them, but she had declined, saying she wasn’t feeling well.

“Is she truly unwell?” he wondered, his brow furrowing slightly. There seemed little reason for her to refuse an invitation to spend time with Leo.

Leo, meanwhile, quickly lost interest in his surroundings. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he began folding paper with great concentration.

Van observed his son with a warm smile.

“Leopold.”

“Yes, Daddy?”

Leo responded absentmindedly, too focused on his handiwork to look up.

“You’re the only one who can speak to me like that.”

Van’s tone softened, a rare tenderness lacing his words.

Well, almost the only one, he thought.

Leo, oblivious, continued folding the paper with his tiny, nimble fingers.

“His hands are so small,” Van mused, a pang of regret washing over him for the years he’d missed.

The late emperor had squandered the empire’s resources on indulgences, leaving the borders vulnerable and neglected. While his public image was that of a benevolent ruler, the reality was far grimmer.

Van had spent nearly three of the last four years on the battlefield, securing the empire’s borders. The remaining time had been devoted to uprooting corruption within the court.

His time with Adel and Leo had been painfully brief—a few months here and there between campaigns. Each time he returned, Leo seemed to have grown overnight. Van felt both pride and sorrow at the speed of his son’s growth.

Now, even watching Leo sit on the study floor surrounded by scraps of paper brought him a joy he hadn’t known he needed.

“Daddy! Here’s a present!”

Leo approached him with a misshapen circle of crumpled paper that vaguely resembled a donut.

“What is it?” Van asked, feigning curiosity.

“A crown!” Leo exclaimed proudly.

At once, Van removed the royal diadem from his head, setting it aside.

Leo eagerly placed the paper crown on Van’s head, clapping his hands in delight at his handiwork.

Van chuckled, utterly captivated by his son’s playful antics.

Leo’s giggles rang through the study, but they reminded Van of something else—Adel’s tear-streaked face.

Sigh.

His heavy breath caught Leo’s attention, and the boy looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Leo, it’s time for lunch,” Van said, standing.

“Okay! Bye, Daddy!”

Leo waved enthusiastically as he ran toward a waiting attendant, his small legs carrying him eagerly.

“See you again, Daddy!”

Van couldn’t help but smile. Leo only added “yo” to his words when he wanted something, and it was endearing how clever the boy could be.

Just that one “See you again!” gave Van a rare sense of fulfillment.

“And Adel?” he asked.

“The young lady Ernst has not left her room,” the attendant replied carefully.

Van set down the pen he had been holding, his expression darkening slightly.

He had asked about her health, yet the response felt evasive. Something was amiss.

“Didn’t she send word that she was unwell?” Van demanded sharply.

“Yes, Your Majesty. However… she hasn’t eaten for three days and collapsed this morning,” the attendant replied hesitantly.

“What?” Van’s voice turned cold, laced with fury. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

The emperor stepped closer, his piercing gaze making the attendant tremble.

“Get out. You’re dismissed.”

The attendant instinctively clutched at his neck as though anticipating a blow and fled the office without a second glance.

Van turned to another attendant stationed by the door.

“What’s your name?”

“Y-Your Majesty, my name is Dawson.”

“How long have you been working in the palace, Dawson?”

“T-three years, Your Majesty.”

“Good.”

Van noted that Dawson was part of the new staff brought in after his purge of corrupt officials.

“Do you understand the mistake the other attendant made?”

Dawson nodded fervently.

“You’re his replacement now. See to it that you don’t make the same error.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Dawson replied, stunned by his sudden promotion to the emperor’s personal attendant.

Van wasted no time and headed straight for Adel’s room.

“Collapsed…?”

He recalled her looking weak over the past few days but had attributed it to the aftereffects of her time in the cold dungeon.

When he reached Adel’s quarters, a tense scene was unfolding inside.

“Miss Ernst, this is dangerous for your health,” a maid pleaded.

“…”

“You’re feeling dizzy because you haven’t eaten. Please, you must eat something. Medicine won’t solve this.”

Adel, naturally petite and slender, now looked gaunt. Her cheeks were hollow, and her frame was frail after three days without food.

“Leave,” Van commanded, his voice resolute.

The maids hurriedly exited the room, leaving Van and Adel alone.

“Do you mean to starve yourself to death?”

Adel didn’t respond, her silence a sharp pang in Van’s chest. Her once-bright eyes were dull and unfocused, barely reflecting the light.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, his voice softening, though frustration crept in.

Adel didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she stared blankly at the space before her, her voice devoid of emotion as she spoke.

“Send Leo and me away from the palace.”