My Child’s Father Is the Emperor - Chapter 7

“Send Leo and me away from the palace.”

Adel clasped her trembling hands tightly.

“Adel!”

At the sound of Van’s sharp voice, her shoulders hunched, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’ll live as though I don’t exist. If you command me to leave the country, I will. Just… please, have mercy,” she pleaded, tears slipping past her tightly shut eyelids.

“That cannot be allowed.”

The emperor’s voice was firm and unyielding.

Adel opened her eyes, staring up at him.

“…You’re truly heartless,” she whispered, her voice laced with despair.

“What did you just say?” Van asked, his tone low and dangerous.

“I am a person,” she replied, her voice trembling but resolute. “A living, breathing person. I am one of your subjects.”

Her gaze met his, unwavering despite the tears streaming down her face.

“Do you think that because I am a commoner, I have no thoughts, no feelings?”

Adel’s sadness deepened.

In this empire, royalty and nobles could kill commoners without consequence. There was no crime in it. If she were to die at Van’s hands, no one would question it.

“If I must lose Leo, then what is the point of living?”

The thought settled heavily in her mind. Her despair had led her to this breaking point, where it seemed there had never been any other path but this one.

Losing Leo and dying—that had been the path she had desperately tried to avoid.

But no matter what Adel did, she couldn’t escape. In the end, everything unfolded in the palm of the emperor’s hand.

“Are you throwing a tantrum like a child now?” Van’s voice was cold and sharp.

“A tantrum?” Adel echoed, her voice trembling with anger.

“Think of Leopold’s future,” he retorted.

“Leo’s future?” Adel’s fury flared.

How dare someone who had neither raised nor known the boy speak of his future?

“He was growing up happy,” she said, her tone filled with indignation.

“As a commoner,” the emperor replied, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

Adel’s pride cracked at his condescension. She stared at him, her face hardening.

“I cannot accept this. Leo is my son.”

“Adel!” Van’s voice rose, but Adel didn’t waver.

“If you won’t allow me to leave with him,” she said firmly, “then I’ll starve myself to death. After I’m gone, take him and place him in the royal registry.”

“Do as you wish!”

Unable to contain his frustration, Van stormed out, slamming the door behind him with a deafening crack.

Adel flinched but held her ground.

As soon as he was gone, her composure crumbled.

“Ugh,” she sobbed, the sound muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

For the first time, Adel regretted being born a commoner.

She had never once resented her status, not even when her father, a commoner-turned-administrator, had lain on his deathbed.

Her father had been a man of respect and dignity. Despite his humble origins, he had risen to become a revered figure, even outshining the local lord in the eyes of the territory’s people.

Inspired by him, Adel had studied diligently, aspiring to one day follow in his footsteps.

Being a commoner had never felt like a limitation.

But now, facing the emperor’s immense power, she felt utterly helpless. Her own inadequacies, so glaringly exposed, brought a deep, bitter sorrow that made her feel smaller than ever.

 

* * *

 

Van lingered in the imperial study late into the night, his mind heavy with thoughts of Adel.

Her heart had clearly been deeply hurt.

“I misjudged this,” he admitted to himself for the first time.

Born the fourth prince, Van had lived his life as royalty, fully entrenched in the rigid hierarchy of the Albrecht Empire.

His mother, Empress Sonare, had been a princess from a neighboring duchy, married into the imperial family as the fifth empress in a political alliance. She conceived Van at a young age, but the isolation and strain of living in a foreign land took its toll on her health.

After a difficult pregnancy, Sonare succumbed to complications during childbirth, leaving Van motherless from the moment he entered the world.

He was raised by her maids and a wet nurse, but he had no significant political backing within the empire.

Sonare’s ties to her homeland had faded with her death, leaving Van without strong alliances. The duchy’s ambassador occasionally paid formal visits, but those were few and far between.

No one sought favor with him.

While his siblings jockeyed for position within their factions, bolstered by the power and influence of their mothers, Van was left to navigate the treacherous waters of court politics alone.

Even his siblings and their mothers had written him off, dismissing him as a non-contender in the race for the throne.

He thought back to that day.

Among the seven princes, Van had been the most vulnerable. He lacked a faction and posed no immediate threat, making him an easy target.

His third brother had been the first to strike, seeing Van as the perfect opportunity to consolidate his own position.

Van had not forgotten the blood-soaked night when he, backed into a corner, took up his blade.

He had killed his third brother, severing his head in a single, decisive blow.

The memory burned in his mind—a reminder of what survival required in the empire, where power and ruthlessness ruled above all else.

His path to the throne had been paved in blood and despair, a reality that left little room for understanding the kind of pain Adel carried.

“She can’t see things from where I stand,” he thought bitterly. “But neither have I seen things from where she does.”

For the first time, Van considered the limitations of his perspective, shaped by a life where strength determined worth, and vulnerability was punished without mercy.

The memory of that bloody night remained etched in Van’s mind, haunting and grotesque.

The shock of having his own brother plot against his life was immense. But the greater horror came from the fact that he had been forced to end his brother’s life with his own hands.

Van’s life had never been one of belonging.

Though he bore the name of royalty, his existence in the palace felt more like that of an unwanted guest, tolerated but never embraced.

Until he heard her voice.

“Van. I will wish for you to live.”

Those words had struck a chord deep within him.

“When everyone else wishes you gone, I will pray that you’ll stay with me.”

Surely, others might have had such prayers said for them—by their mothers, by someone who loved them.

“I’ll be the one who wishes for your life.”

But for Van, whose mother had passed at his birth, such sentiments had been entirely foreign.

From a young age, women were drawn to him, captivated by his striking appearance. Yet, he had always felt uneasy around them, perhaps because of the absence of a maternal presence.

Adel, though, had been different. Her beauty was like that of a fairy, enchanting and pure, her words imbued with a sincerity that struck at the very core of his being.

He had wanted her.

Van had wanted to live beside her, and to do that, he had to survive.

Survival demanded that he wade through rivers of blood, endure the hellish scenes of war, and press on through the endless carnage that painted his world red.

Yet through it all, he clung to the thought of her. Somewhere beyond the blood-soaked battlefields, Adel awaited his return, praying for his survival.

And then she had said it.

“Send Leo and me away from the palace.”

She might as well have plunged a blade into him. Her words had shaken him to the core, leaving him unsure how to respond.

Van couldn’t even recall his exact reply.

What had she said next? He vaguely remembered her crying, and his own voice raised in anger. But everything else was a blur, save for the single, searing memory of her plea to leave.

Since leaving her room, he had been consumed by a restless haze.

Van glanced at the clock. It was 1 a.m. Adel would surely be asleep by now.

Unable to contain the gnawing unease, he rose and made his way to her room.

He remembered the nights after returning from war when he could see her and Leo, even if just for a single evening. Bringing them to the palace had filled him with a joy so profound it defied words.

But tonight, his steps toward her door were heavy with apprehension.

Van entered silently through the terrace.

Careful not to make a sound, he pushed open the window and slipped inside.

Adel lay asleep on the bed, her features pale and drawn.

He crouched beside her, his gaze softening as it fell on her chapped lips.

Van reached out and gently ran his finger over them.

“She hasn’t even had water,” he thought, his chest tightening.

Van gently stroked Adel’s hair, his hand lingering as if to soothe her even in sleep.

Unable to resist, he slipped into bed beside her, pulling her small frame carefully into his arms.

The soft, familiar scent of her reached his nose, stirring a bittersweet warmth in his chest.

What would normally have brought him peace felt heavy now, her plea to leave him echoing in his mind.

“Van?”

Her faint voice broke the silence.

“Adel.”

Her tone lacked its usual strength, making his heart tighten.

Still holding her close, Van shifted to sit upright, reaching for the water bottle on the bedside table. He poured a glass and brought it to her lips.

Thinking it was a dream, Adel obediently drank.

“She needs food too,” Van thought. “Perhaps soup… or fruit?”

He was lost in thought when her voice brought him back.

“Van.”

Adel gently pushed him away and sat up, her movements slow but deliberate.

Van, startled, pulled back, watching her carefully.

“What’s wrong? You seem weaker than usual,” he said, trying to sound casual, though unease gripped him.

“Van.”

Her somber demeanor unsettled him further.

“Don’t come into my dreams anymore,” she said softly.

“What?”

Her words struck him like a blow. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“Why would you say that? Why—”

Before he could finish, she reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand, her touch light yet grounding.

Adel smiled at him, her gaze deep and wistful.

“Van. I love you.”

His heart pounded violently in his chest, a rhythm that felt all too familiar.

His heart had belonged to her for so long, stolen without him even realizing.

And now, that heart, knowing its rightful owner, beat only for her.

“It’s you I love,” she said. “Not the emperor.”

“Adel, I am the emperor,” Van replied, his voice rough with desperation.

“No,” she said, her tone quiet but firm. “I’ve thought about it—why you’ve appeared in my dreams all this time.”

“Why would you think about something like that?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

Adel gave him a sad smile, one that made his chest ache.

“It was escapism,” she admitted. “I think I wanted to be loved by you, Van.”

“I love you, Adel,” he said immediately, his words spilling over with sincerity.

Adel laughed softly, but it was a hollow sound.

“That’s why I liked you, Van. You always said exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Adel sat up, her arms wrapping around Van’s neck as she rested her forehead against his.

Then her nose touched his, and finally, her lips.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips that deepened as she bit down slightly, her touch tender and bittersweet.

Van felt his restraint fray.

“Just a little more,” she whispered.

Her small head fit perfectly in his hand as he pulled her closer, pressing their lips together more firmly.

The kiss grew fervent, their breaths mingling as the warmth between them flared.

It was intoxicating.

Van’s chest tightened, and he let out a low, involuntary groan, the heat between them threatening to overwhelm him.

The suppressed hunger inside him clawed to the surface, demanding release.

But then Adel spoke, her voice trembling yet resolute.

“No. Stop now,” she said.

Somehow, during the heated moment, Adel had been lowered back onto the bed, her body partially sprawled beneath him.

Van’s breathing was heavy, ragged, his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress.

Her words struck him like a bucket of cold water.

“This is the last kiss,” she said softly.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, glistening like drops of shattered glass.

“I can’t love you anymore, Van.”

Van froze, his body stiff as if he had been turned to stone.

“What… what do you mean?” he managed, his voice hoarse.

“I won’t dream of you anymore,” Adel replied, her voice breaking with each word.

Van stared at her, stunned. She was saying goodbye to him.

“Adel, I lived because of you,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’re the reason I survived. You kept me alive.”

“That’s enough for me now,” Adel whispered, her smile fragile and tinged with pain. “Knowing who you truly are is all I need.”

She laughed quietly, but tears rolled down her cheeks, her emotions breaking through her composure.

“The emperor… he has no place in my dreams.”

Van felt his chest tear apart at her words, the pain twisting like a knife in his heart.

“I don’t ever want to see you again, not even in my dreams,” Adel said, her sobs growing louder, raw and unrestrained.

Her tears came in waves as she covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking violently.

Van’s grip slackened, his strength leaving him entirely.

Her wrists now free, Adel curled in on herself, hiding her tear-streaked face in her palms as her cries echoed through the room.

“Adel.”

Van’s voice was barely audible, filled with anguish.

He reached out but stopped short, unable to bridge the distance that felt insurmountable despite her being just inches away.

“Don’t call my name! Get out of my dreams!”

Adel’s anguished cry pierced through Van like a dagger.

She sobbed uncontrollably, her voice raw and trembling until exhaustion finally claimed her. Her breathing evened out as she fell into a restless sleep, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

Van remained motionless, his mind a blank canvas filled only with the echo of her words.

With trembling hands, he pulled the blanket over her delicate form, ensuring she was covered and warm. Then, like a ghost, he slipped out of the room.

The dimly lit halls of the imperial palace stretched out before him, the edges of his vision spinning and distorted.

“Y-Your Majesty!”

“Your Majesty!”

The guards stationed outside Adel’s room snapped to attention, their faces pale as they hurriedly bowed.

Van stopped, staring at them blankly for a moment before the realization hit him: he had exited through the door.

He had forgotten his usual discretion, the need to keep his visits to Adel secret.

For the first time in his life, Van had slipped up, his mind too consumed with the searing pain left by her rejection.

Adel.

She had been the first to stir his heart, the first to make him feel human—alive.

Her words replayed mercilessly in his mind:

“I can’t love you anymore, Van.”

This loss, this hollow, aching void—Van had never experienced anything like it.

He had faced countless battles, had lived through betrayals and plots. He had known fear, anger, and even the weight of guilt. But this was different.

The depth of this pain was unimaginable, as if something vital had been ripped from within him, leaving a gaping wound in its place.

His steps faltered as he clutched his chest.

Adel no longer loved him.

His Adel—his reason for enduring war, death, and the crown—had chosen to cast him away.

“She… doesn’t love me,” he murmured, the words foreign and heavy on his tongue.