Your Majesty, I’m Not that Man - Chapter 4. The Tyrant’s Gift (5)

Now alone with Lavinia, Cassion felt his turbulent emotions begin to calm. Lavinia hadn’t taken Albert’s hand. She had chosen to remain by his side.

That was what mattered most, Cassion told himself.

Still, his sharp mind pieced together every word, every action Lavinia had taken. She had entered the palace without bringing even a single close maid. She had dismissed all the loyal servants from the duke’s household. She had told him she didn’t want to be empress but would settle for being a concubine. Each clue pointed to one undeniable conclusion.

Lavinia had been planning to escape from him from the very beginning.

She didn’t want to be empress. She hadn’t been happy about receiving the Hyacinth Palace. It was all because she had never intended to stay.

The reasons for this were endless. Cassion was a tyrant who had taken countless lives. Among the dead could easily have been Lavinia’s friends or even her lover.

At least she doesn’t seem to love that man.

Albert’s eyes had been filled with unmistakable affection, but Lavinia’s had not. That was the only comfort Cassion could find in the situation.

It was a foolish thought. Why had he longed so desperately for her love? She was already by his side. Why hadn’t he realized that her mere presence was enough?

Listening to their conversation from beyond the door, Cassion had come to understand something: just imagining Lavinia leaving his side was enough to make his chest tighten with unbearable pain. He didn’t need her love. All he needed was for her to stay.

As Lavinia’s sobs gradually quieted, Cassion gently patted her back. She leaned against him, breathing heavily as if completely spent.

Even anger consumed energy, he realized. Judging by her demeanor, Lavinia wasn’t someone who easily lost her temper. It must have been exhausting for her to lash out at the maids or at Albert.

“Don’t be afraid.”

As Cassion whispered softly, the trembling Lavinia flinched in his arms. He clenched his teeth at her reaction but forced himself to keep his voice gentle.

“I won’t get angry with you,” he murmured.

Her delicate frame, nestled in his arms, filled him with an aching tenderness. The realization that he could hold her like this felt like an incredible blessing—a reminder of how precious she was to him.

“I swear I won’t punish you or scold you for this. So don’t be afraid. Please, don’t cry.”

Loosening his hold slightly, he tilted her face upward to meet his gaze. Her tearful green eyes stared back at him, wide with fear.

“Why… no, I mean, thank you. Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me.”

The only reason he had spared Albert was because Lavinia had chosen to stay by his side. Strictly speaking, she had only rejected Albert; she hadn’t explicitly chosen Cassion. But he decided to interpret her decision that way regardless.

Though Albert’s presence had ignited his fury, the simple fact that Lavinia remained was enough for him—for now.

Doubts about her intentions began to creep into his mind, but Cassion chose to suppress them. He knew all too well that if he let those suspicions fester, he might lose control of himself entirely.

＊ ＊ ＊

Albert left the imperial palace with a grim expression, his mind replaying the image of Lavinia trembling in the emperor’s arms.

“I failed to protect her.”

He had thought that becoming a swordmaster had made him strong. He had believed that at the very least, he could protect Lavinia.

But the emperor he had faced wielded a power far greater than he had anticipated. If Cassion had unleashed his full killing intent, Albert knew he would have crumbled completely, unable to stand.

The only reason Cassion hadn’t done so was because Lavinia had been there. Albert recognized this, but it didn’t change the fact that Lavinia was being forced to remain by his side.

The memory of her trembling shoulders as she clung to the emperor’s chest was burned into Albert’s mind, so vivid that his lips bled. He hadn’t even realized he was biting down hard enough to draw blood.

Why? Why is she being treated like this?

The emperor was infamous across the continent as a man who preferred the company of men. And now, suddenly, he was keeping Lavinia—a woman—close to him. It was utterly unjust.

An empress?

Albert had believed that once he left, Lavinia would live a good life as the heir to the duke’s estate. She was not a woman who should be condemned to unhappiness, trapped as nothing more than a token empress by the side of a man who didn’t even desire her.

I should have saved her.

Before it came to this—before she was forced into the palace—he should have taken her and fled beyond the empire’s borders.

But he had hesitated. He had been consumed by worry for the duke’s household, by the fear of what might happen to the people there if he acted selfishly. That hesitation had cost him dearly, and now Lavinia was suffering because of it.

He had come to the imperial palace under the guise of seeing her face one last time, driven by concern. But the moment he saw her crying, Albert knew he had made the wrong choice.

The duke’s household, its people—all of it paled in comparison to Lavinia’s unhappiness. Even if it had meant risking their safety, even if it had meant sacrificing everything, he should have taken her and run. He realized this too late, and regret consumed him.

That was why he had thrown caution to the wind and appeared before her now.

“Leni…”

But the look on Lavinia’s face when she saw him had been one of pure terror.

What is he doing to her in that palace? What is the emperor putting her through?

Anger burned through him, dark and all-consuming. His noble lady—the one whose name he could barely bring himself to call aloud—was now the emperor’s concubine, crying in his embrace. And the emperor, holding her in his arms, had glared at Albert with cold, possessive eyes.

She was someone Albert should have protected.

But he lacked the strength to pull her from that man’s grasp. That realization cut through him like a blade, and once again, he bit his lip in agony. The taste of blood filled his mouth, sharp and metallic, but he didn’t even notice.

His steps carried him out of the palace, each one heavier than the last.

As his gaze drifted into the distance, it landed on the Wendell Duchy.

＊ ＊ ＊

For Lavinia’s sake, Albert knew he had to leave her behind and return. The person she feared was Cassion—there was no denying it. Yet, Cassion couldn’t bear to leave Lavinia alone. Once suspicion had taken root in his mind, the idea of letting her out of his sight became unbearable.

After Albert left and the tension settled, Lavinia remained silent. Every so often, she cast a fearful glance at Cassion, but she said nothing.

The afternoon turned to evening, and dinnertime approached. Cassion, realizing his presence might prevent Lavinia from eating, purposefully stepped out of the room.

Left to dine alone in the spacious chamber, Lavinia looked distant, as if her mind were elsewhere.

“Lady Lavinia, are you alright?”

The maids, unaware of Albert’s visit, watched her with concern. Since Cassion hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, the guards, knights, and attendants remained in the dark as well.

“I’m fine. I just don’t have much of an appetite…” Lavinia replied softly.

“Still, you should try to eat at least a little,” one maid encouraged cautiously, worried about whether the emperor had been angry earlier.

Reluctantly, Lavinia took a small spoonful of the thin soup before setting the spoon down. Her stomach churned, and she felt on the verge of vomiting.

“Take it away. I don’t feel like eating,” she said as she rose from her seat.

The emperor hadn’t detained Albert. He had let him go—for Lavinia’s sake. He had allowed him to leave the palace.

“Doesn’t he realize yet?”

Cassion’s feelings toward Albert had been abrupt, but not so immediate that one could call it love at first sight. However, Lavinia couldn’t shake the fear that, perhaps even tonight, as Cassion reflected on Albert, his feelings might shift into something more dangerous.

“It’s over. It’s all over now.”

The emperor had seen Albert. While Albert had been the adopted son of the duke’s household, he had never crossed paths with the emperor before. The imperial family’s many cancellations of banquets and balls due to assassinations and rebellions had left little opportunity for such a meeting.

“Lady Lavinia?”

Startled by the maid’s voice, Lavinia realized that she had started crying again. Embarrassed, she hastily wiped her tears as Philia, a perceptive maid, quietly handed her a handkerchief.

“Thank you,” Lavinia murmured, dabbing at her face.

The maids exchanged pitying glances as they watched Lavinia, unsure of what had transpired. All they knew was that the emperor had entered her room, and when he left, Lavinia had been in tears.

“Perhaps he scolded her harshly for not appreciating his gift…”

The Hyacinth Palace, after all, was an extravagant offering, and the emperor likely expected her to be pleased. Even so, reprimanding her to the point of tears seemed excessive.

Unaware of the truth, the maids could only feel sorry for Lavinia, assuming she was simply another victim of the emperor’s demanding and unpredictable nature.

＊ ＊ ＊

As night fell, Cassion came to see Lavinia. She wasn’t in the mood to face the emperor, much less to be near him. Though she was grateful for the mercy he had shown earlier, her fear of him had not disappeared. However, she knew better than to greet the emperor with a pale, frightened face.

“I greet Your Majesty… the Sun of Adalaxus,” she said, her voice steady as she bowed gracefully, wearing a dress of fine, delicate hues.

Cassion stood silently, gazing at her. His stare wasn’t overtly threatening, but even so, it made Lavinia instinctively tense.

“…Everyone, leave us,” Cassion said, glancing briefly at the maids.

The maids, accustomed to such orders, quietly exited the room, leaving only the two of them in the newly refurbished bedroom of the Hyacinth Palace. A heavy silence settled in the air.

“Lavinia.”

She resisted the urge to flinch, forcing herself to remain composed. Being the daughter of a duke made such displays of composure almost second nature, but it still took effort.

“Just being by your side is enough for me tonight. I won’t do anything to you,” Cassion said, running a hand over his face, his voice tinged with self-deprecation.

Lavinia stared at him, stunned, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

“If sharing the same bed is too much for you, I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he added.

“N-no, I couldn’t let Your Majesty sleep somewhere like that…” she stammered, finally regaining her senses.

Cassion’s lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. “It’s fine.”

He had come to understand that his mere presence was intimidating enough. Yet, despite that knowledge, he still wanted to stay near her—it was selfish, he knew.

He had no illusions that their past physical closeness had erased her fear of him. He was well aware that he, the emperor, had killed countless people, even those he had once held close. Her fear was justified, and he felt no inclination to reprimand her for it.

He had no intention of forcing her to accept him now. Slowly, gently—like the tide creeping in—he would remain by her side and let time do the work.

He wanted to apologize, to say he was sorry for everything, but the words caught in his throat, refusing to come out.

This isn’t how it was supposed to begin, he thought, regret blooming in his chest.

He should have approached her differently—met her on equal ground, earned her trust gradually, and opened her heart to him over time. Instead, he had rushed forward, letting his desires lead, and now here they were.

It wasn’t the start he had wanted, and that regret weighed heavily on him.

As Cassion mulled over his thoughts, he let out a bitter laugh at himself. Opening her heart to me through natural interactions? Me? Have I forgotten who I am? I am Cassion Anais!

He was a man who had once executed a servant for something as trivial as a displeasing glance. His hands were stained with the blood of countless victims, and he had ordered the deaths of dozens, hundreds, without hesitation.

From the very beginning, a natural, gradual relationship was impossible. The best he could hope for now was to think that things might have been different had he simply gone through with the wedding and installed her as his empress from the start.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Lavinia,” he said calmly.

Lavinia froze at the unexpected gentleness in his voice. This wasn’t the Cassion she knew—or thought she knew. This kindness, this soft protectiveness, was something reserved for Albert in the later chapters of the original story. Only Albert had been allowed to see this side of him.

And yet now, Cassion was showing it to her. It left Lavinia bewildered.

Why? Why is he doing this?

After speaking, Cassion moved toward the sofa, as if he truly intended to sleep there. But Lavinia, unable to ignore him, stepped forward and grabbed his arm. Cassion turned to her with a conflicted expression, as if her gesture brought both joy and confusion.

The look on his face seemed to ask, Why go to such lengths? Lavinia, for her part, met his gaze evenly, though her mind was a whirlwind of doubts and unease.

“You should sleep in the bed. If word spreads that I made the emperor sleep on the sofa, I’ll become the subject of gossip,” she said firmly.

“That won’t happen,” Cassion replied, his tone nonchalant but layered with a hidden edge. He had every intention of ensuring that no one dared speak Lavinia’s name in such a way—because if they did, they’d never speak of anything again.