Chapter 23
Chapter 23. His Demand
“The price,” Vinea echoed.
She knew what Balak would say. In their first life, when he approached her with a bet, he had demanded a price, and his eyes held the same look then as they did now.
“It’s a legendary jewel, so I must gain something from it, don’t you think?” Balak said.
“It’s no longer a legend. It’s a real object,” Vinea responded, taking the pot from Balak’s hand. Her touch made him flinch, and he lowered his clenched fist. The still-warm tea poured into their cups.
“What I want is information about Sefitiana. I need as much information as possible, even down to the temple cleaners who buried it.”
“May I ask why you sought me out? You should have looked for an information guild, not a trading company that deals in jewels.”
“Your impression was quite strong. That night, you couldn’t even hide yourself in the darkness properly while begging for forgiveness. I was curious about how you would handle my request.”
Balak quickly turned his head away.
Having made countless transactions, he prided himself on maintaining his composure. Yet, the memory of that night, when he had approached her like an impulsive boy, heated his neck. Vinea watched as his dark skin flushed, pretending not to notice as she sipped her tea.
“…I truly apologize for that night.”
“So, can you fulfill my request? If not, you may leave the palace.”
Saying that the trading company couldn’t fulfill her request was just an excuse. The Valita Trading Company handled nearly every gem in existence. To expand the company further, something more memorable than other companies was needed—like the legendary jewel, Sefitiana.
He didn’t actually believe he could acquire the true Sefitiana. Owning it would clearly draw the swords of two empires, and he wasn’t foolish enough to covet something he couldn’t handle. Balak merely wanted to see it with his own eyes once. To capture its facets, transparency, reflection, and color, and then create a replica to showcase as Valita’s flagship item.
Thus, he collected all information about Sefitiana, seeking out anyone who had ever seen it. His company possessed information rivaling that of the two imperial courts, or perhaps even more. Knowing this, Vinea needed Balak.
Balak stared at his reflection in the tea before raising his head.
“If I provide information about Sefitiana, what will you give me in return?”
If he could somehow present her with Sefitiana, he hoped she might accept him in return. But Vinea placed her teacup down with an indifferent expression.
“I have no need for a useless stone. I only want information, and I’ll compensate you accordingly.”
Calling Sefitiana a useless stone left Balak stunned, but he nodded, hiding his surprise.
“Understood. I will gather the information about Sefitiana.”
“However, asking you for such a task is excessive for a mere apology. Is there something specific you want in return?”
Balak hesitated before answering.
“Your name. I want to be able to call your name. To dare, call Her Majesty by her name.”
Vinea. My love. The distant memories of whispers in her ear resurfaced, mimicking Balak’s voice, causing Vinea’s eyes to dim.
Names are significant, binding one to another. Her past lover had enjoyed whispering her name when they were alone.
“If you bring the information, then.”
“Understood.”
Silence fell between them. Neither Vinea nor Balak spoke first.
Vinea reminisced about her past with Balak, while Balak absorbed Vinea’s present. When the tea was nearly finished, Balak pulled out a small box from his coat.
“I prepared a small gift. May I place it on you?”
It was not uncommon to bring a gift when visiting the Empress, and sometimes the giver would personally adorn it. There was no reason to refuse.
With a nod from Vinea, Balak walked around the table and knelt on one knee. Even kneeling, his height almost matched her seated position.
Opening the purple velvet box revealed a brooch with a top-grade ruby surrounded by diamonds, meticulously crafted without any flaws. It was far from a modest gift.
As he leaned closer to affix the brooch, their faces drew near enough to feel each other’s breath. Despite his bold movement, Balak’s gaze avoided Vinea’s, focusing on not trembling as he worked.
When Vinea lowered her head to examine the brooch, her platinum hair cascaded over Balak’s hand.
He lifted his wavering red eyes.
Caught in the deep blue of her eyes, he felt his breath hitch, and the brooch slipped from his hand, rolling away. Hastily, Balak retrieved it, silently cursing himself.
‘Balak Utar, you fool…’
How foolish he must have looked. Balak closed his eyes briefly, then set the brooch on the table and bowed.
“I apologize. My clumsy hands made a mistake. I’ll bring a new one next time.”
Without a word, Vinea stood, picked up the brooch, and pinned it herself on her dress where his hand had touched.
“No need. This will do.”
Balak couldn’t take his eyes off Vinea wearing the brooch he had given her. The red jewel on her golden hair and blue dress stood out among all her adornments.
A color like his. Even in his flustered state, he felt satisfaction from hurriedly picking the most expensive item from the new store in the capital.
“Thank you for accepting my gift. I will take my leave.”
Balak left the office, leaving silence in his wake. With no sound even from moving teacups, the weariness Vinea had pushed aside pressed down on her.
Meeting two exhausting men in one day, from Tatar to Balak, left Vinea feeling drained. She lightly touched the brooch with her fingertips.
“I didn’t expect to see this again,” she murmured.
Some moments in life seem destined to occur, no matter what choices you make, like this brooch. It was a gift from Balak in their thirty-fourth life, the life where she had last entangled with him and said goodbye.
‘―It was all for you, Vinea. Didn’t you want to escape so desperately? From this palace, from the Emperor? From everything that binds you?’
It was a confession both romantic and dreadful, a memory she preferred not to recall, even now when it meant little. Her last touch of this brooch was when she had ripped it off and thrown it at Balak’s face. Encountering such moments, seemingly different yet similar, always filled her with an uneasy feeling.
Dismissing unnecessary thoughts, Vinea headed to her bedroom. Opening the door, she saw someone lying on her bed as if it were their own. Turning her head, she saw Tatar’s aide, Deron, who had been searching for him all day.
Upon seeing Vinea, Deron bowed.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. There are many documents to review, and His Majesty insisted on working here.”
“That’s fine, but could you leave us for a moment? I have something urgent to discuss with His Majesty.”
“Understood,” Deron replied, leaving the room swiftly. Tatar, who had been processing documents at an impressive speed, finally looked up.
“You’re quick,” he noted.
“I only needed time for a cup of tea,” she replied.
Tatar tossed the documents aside and approached Vinea, his fingers brushing the brooch on her left breast.
“A gift, just like me. Clumsy and crude. It doesn’t suit you. Let me fetch something better from the royal treasury.”
As he spoke, he watched her intently, gauging her reaction. Seeing his instinctual wariness without knowing the story behind the jewel, Vinea thought he truly had an animalistic sense. She unpinned the brooch and placed it in Tatar’s hand.
“Do as you wish.”
Satisfied with her docility, Tatar carelessly tossed the brooch onto a shelf. Then, something caught his eye. He grabbed Vinea’s hand, noticing the wedding ring on her fourth finger, which she rarely wore outside official duties.
Tatar, trying to discern her intentions, finally smiled in satisfaction. He lifted her hand and pressed a firm kiss onto the ring, a blatant expression of desire.
“So, what’s the price for dancing in the palm of the Empress?”
Vinea sighed softly. Why were there so many demands on her today? Yet, compared to Balak’s request, Tatar’s needs were straightforward and simple.
Although weary, Vinea found primitive pleasures the best way to forget reality. More importantly, she wanted to quickly erase the unpleasant memories stirred by her recent encounter with Balak.
Her decision was swift and her actions quicker. She moved her hand, pushing Tatar in the chest. He lost his balance and fell onto the bed, scattering the papers like feathers.
As she untied the ribbon at the back of her dress, Vinea climbed onto Tatar, whose eyes looked up at her with a burning intensity.
