5. Negotiations Fail When You Don’t Understand The Other Party (part 1)
“Don’t worry. I won’t propose to you.”
The next day, Nell sat across from a thoroughly tense Marcella, steaming tea between them.
Marcella struggled to respond, unsure how to react to his words.
When she glanced at him nervously, Nell tilted his head, then straightened it again.
“I won’t punish you for claiming we’re close friends.”
Was he still teasing her about that? Marcella’s face flushed red.
“You look like a tomato again.”
Marcella felt ashamed of her burning face.
She wished it would calm down quickly, but Nell propped his chin on his hand and leaned closer. Marcella instinctively pulled back, her reddened face growing even redder.
Nell was satisfied that he’d remembered to use the tomato comparison, just as Arthur had insisted. Though Arthur’s intention had been for him to call her cute, not simply compare her to a tomato.
“Marcella, do you have a fever?”
The back of Nell’s hand touched Marcella’s forehead.
His hand was neither cold nor warm, but against her heated face, it felt distinctly cool. Marcella flinched.
“Marcella.”
Nell watched as her lips gradually parted. This was certainly better than her deathly pale complexion.
Whether pale or red, neither seemed to help her speak more easily, but at least now Marcella wasn’t afraid.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
When Marcella tried to pull away slightly, Nell withdrew his hand.
He nodded briefly and looked down at the hand that had touched her.
“But your face is so hot?”
Under Nell’s probing gaze, Marcella found it difficult to answer. She desperately searched for an excuse.
“I naturally run warm.”
“Do you?”
Nell turned his palm over and dropped something onto the table.
A blue-tinged magical stone glittered, emanating cold air. She already had one like it in her pocket from before.
To create such items so easily—he must be quite the accomplished mage.
Marcella wasn’t particularly pleased to receive the magical stone. She had magic too, but she couldn’t conjure things like this as effortlessly as Nell or her sister had.
“Your face has darkened again.”
“…It’s just because I’m not hot anymore.”
“Aren’t you happy?”
‘How dare you not be pleased when His Majesty bestows a magical stone upon you.’ That’s how it sounded to Marcella’s ears.
Seeing her flinch, Nell tilted his head.
“Do you dislike magical stones?”
“It’s not that.”
“Is there nothing you’d be happy to receive from me?”
At Nell’s lowered voice, Marcella drew in a sharp breath.
She bit her lip, searching for words, but her mind went blank.
From tomato to pale and back again—Marcella was busy.
Nell propped his chin on his hand and watched Marcella, who avoided meeting his eyes. He couldn’t understand what she was afraid of now to make such an expression.
Arthur, Tamarin, Phoenix, even Martinez—they all made their desires known to him with unmistakable force. If only Marcella would do the same, it would be somewhat easier.
Nell looked at Marcella and sighed.
At the sound resembling a sigh, Marcella glanced up, and their eyes met directly.
Looking at herself reflected in his golden eyes gave Marcella a strange feeling.
“Would you prefer a different magical stone then?”
“That’s not the issue.”
“Do you dislike everything I give you?”
At Nell’s voice, now even lower, beads of sweat formed on Marcella’s forehead.
“You don’t need to give me anything, Your Majesty.”
“Why not?”
“I’d like to ask you that. Why do you want to give me things?”
“Why?”
“Do you want to see my troubled face?”
When Marcella asked, Nell slowly blinked, then tilted his head and nodded.
“That wouldn’t be bad either.”
“Pardon?”
“Is that what a troubled face looks like right now?”
Marcella was speechless. Had the emperor just openly declared he wanted to see her troubled face?
“Even troubled faces are like tomatoes.”
Nell said this though Marcella’s face wasn’t particularly red.
“Is my face still red?”
“No.”
“Then…”
Why call it tomato-like? Marcella swallowed her next words. And so it passed without further comment. The next day was the same, and the day after that too.
Nell would simply have Marcella sit while he waited for the steaming hot tea to cool completely before drinking it and leaving.
Fortunately, he no longer proposed. Nell Hairi seemed to be someone who took responsibility for his words, at least more than Arthur Digory. Marcella was relieved.
“My lady, look at this.”
But Arthur Digory was absolutely not a man to be trusted—she couldn’t let her guard down.
Arthur placed a sheet of paper on one corner of the table. Marcella squinted, half-closing her eyes to glare at it. Neat, tiny writing covered the page.
“This is a list I compiled overnight of the benefits you’d gain from becoming empress.”
“Lord Digory, I told you I won’t become empress.”
“Yes, which is why I’m working so hard to persuade you.”
Arthur was shameless. He smiled as if wondering why he needed to explain such an obvious thing, then read the first line.
“First, you’d gain power as empress.”
“Do you think I need that?”
“Of course, my lady. As empress, you could even execute the eldest son of House Cravan, who spouts nonsense about how you’re a disgrace to the Eastern nobility.”
Was he talking about Donner? No matter how irritating and appetite-ruining Donner was, she didn’t want him dead.
When Marcella looked dumbfounded, Arthur moved to the next line. Nell silently listened to the conversation between his aide and Marcella.
“Second, material wealth.”
Arthur proudly flicked his finger, and a servant who’d been waiting ten paces away brought a thick stack of papers to place on the table. The stack was as thick as a palm held vertically.
“This is a list of what you’d receive as empress. Of course, this only includes items already owned by the imperial family—new acquisitions aren’t listed. If there’s anything else you’d like, you may purchase whatever the treasury allows.”
Marcella stared blankly at the stack. Even presented as such a thick bundle, it felt unreal.
“You’d possess wealth that even I dare not covet. Isn’t that amazing?”
“…Would that really be my wealth?”
“Pardon?”
“I’m asking if that would truly be wealth I possess.”
“I don’t quite understand what you mean. Could you be more specific?”
Marcella looked at Arthur’s genuinely confused expression. Was he lying, or not?
“All these belongings would be registered under the empress’s name. Since that position is currently vacant, they have no owner. If Lady Marcella became empress…”
“Isn’t there a reason the empress position is vacant?”
“Well, yes. His Majesty has shown no interest in any woman and never offered to marry. But now His Majesty is interested in Lady Marcella!”
“No, the position was vacant before that too.”
Arthur finally seemed to understand what Marcella was getting at and closed his mouth, abandoning his cheerful, shameless chatter.
“How many empresses did the previous emperor take?”
“…Five.”
“Where are they all now? Do they possess wealth?”
No, they were all dead. All killed by that mad emperor who murdered every wife he took, meeting terrible ends.
“His Majesty is different from the deposed previous emperor.”
He might be different from that emperor. But wasn’t Nell that emperor’s son? Though she didn’t voice it, Marcella inwardly mocked Arthur.
Like father, like son. The previous emperor had quite a few children while cycling through five empresses. Where had all those children gone, except for Nell who became emperor?
Had the previous emperor killed them all too, like the empresses? But that wasn’t the case, as Arthur Digory certainly knew well.
Even Marcella, who’d only lived in Morris territory and castle, had heard rumors about what Nell had done to them.
“My lady! You’re different from them. You’re the only one His Majesty has taken an interest in!”
Arthur spoke as if this were deeply romantic, but Marcella thought differently.
“The previous emperor must have been interested in them too. Or are you saying they were all forced marriages against his will?”
Yet not one of them survived.
Last night, Marcella had wondered why Arthur Digory was so determined to keep her here. After thinking all night, she could reach only one conclusion.
The empress position should go to a lady from a family befitting that role—families with proper lineage and power.
That used to be the case. But after the previous emperor stubbornly sent his fourth empress to the executioner’s block, no lady wanted to become empress. Naturally. It was obvious they’d meet a dog’s death.
Thanks to this, the previous emperor’s fifth empress was reportedly a lady from a humble family who was simply somewhat pretty.
A powerless family that couldn’t refuse when told their daughter should become empress, and even if their daughter died at her husband’s hands, they lacked the power to hold him accountable.
The current situation was probably similar. No father from any family would want to send his daughter to Nell Hairi. But what about me?
Marcella Morris, younger sister of the late Count Morris.
Her parents had died long ago. Her sister who’d inherited the title was also gone. Her niece Tela would inherit next.
Since she was too young now, her father Teon served as acting count until his daughter’s coming-of-age ceremony.
If I died at the emperor’s hands, could Tela hold the emperor accountable? Could Teon, who was merely an acting count?
Morris was similar to the family of the fifth empress who’d ultimately died at the emperor’s hands.
“Third, Morris’s position would be strengthened.”
Marcella read the third line of Arthur’s paper.
She laughed. Position strengthened? If the dead fifth empress heard this, she’d rise from her grave to slap Arthur Digory.
“I didn’t know Lord Digory worried about Morris’s position.”
Arthur Digory probably had a sister around Nell’s age too. If he were to propose marriage, it should be that duke’s daughter.
But he didn’t want to risk sacrificing his sister, yet needed to marry off the emperor, so he was using House Morris—a family unlikely to protest even if things went wrong.
“I clearly refused, and His Majesty promised not to propose anymore. So, Lord Digory.”
Marcella pressed the paper with her finger and pushed it toward Arthur. Take it back.
“You’ve wasted precious time.”
“…I understand. Your resolve is firmer than I thought. It’s unfortunate, but there is a silver lining.”
Arthur looked directly at Marcella and smiled brightly.
“Just learning why you refuse so firmly is today’s great harvest. I thought perhaps you found His Majesty so utterly detestable that you considered marriage ‘too horrifying to contemplate.'”
Nell was different from the previous emperor. This Arthur Digory, who’d made Nell emperor, could guarantee that.
He looked at Marcella with a confident smile.
“But my lady, don’t you think it’s unjust?”
“Unjust?”
Marcella bristled. Unjust! This was the last thing she wanted to hear from this fraud.
“While refusing is your prerogative, isn’t preventing him from proposing at all going too far?”
“I—”
“Ah, of course I understand your firm resolve not to become empress. His Majesty already promised not to propose, so I’m not here to argue that was excessive.”
Then what exactly was he trying to say…?
When Marcella glared at Arthur suspiciously, he smiled brightly.
“What I mean is—you can’t prevent matters of the heart, and it wouldn’t be just to try. If hearts could be stopped by trying to stop them, why would there have been so many conflicts throughout history?”
Arthur tapped the rolled paper against his other hand, smiling brightly.
“Respecting your wishes, I won’t ask you to become empress anymore. I promise on my name.”
“You lie so well that I don’t trust you.”
“I’d like to deny it, but you wouldn’t believe me, would you? Yes, I lie very well. When necessary, I even lie about lies.”
“Yet you’re promising me something?”
“I don’t lie because I enjoy it. I do it out of necessity, my lady.”
Arthur clasped his hands together, smiling brightly.
“You look scary when you glare like that. I would have preferred not to lie to you or be caught lying. The situation was unavoidable.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“I hope someday you’ll understand my sincerity. Anyway, my lady, the important thing isn’t me.”
He turned to smile brightly at Nell. Someone who’d usually be lost in other thoughts or staring blankly was actually paying attention to their conversation.
“The important thing is that while you can prevent His Majesty from proposing, you can’t prevent him from confessing his feelings.”
‘Now that I’ve set the table this thoroughly, Your Majesty should speak up.’ Arthur smiled brightly and indicated Marcella with his eyes.
Nell’s gaze shifted from staring blankly at Arthur to Marcella. Her face was neither pale nor red. Instead, she looked confused.
“You rejected my proposal, but you wouldn’t reject a confession, would you?”
What was the difference between a proposal and a confession?
Though Marcella thought Arthur was spouting sophistry, she couldn’t find words to refute him. As he said, hearts couldn’t be stopped even if one tried.
“As Lord Digory said, rejection is my choice, so I would reject it.”
Arthur Digory had laid a perfect trap, and Marcella felt like she’d fallen into it, caught in a dense net.
Marcella struggled with all her might.
“I see.”
Despite her saying she’d reject him, Nell didn’t look particularly sad or flustered.
“So you’d reject it but not forbid it?”
“She can’t. That wouldn’t be just.”
Arthur emphasized the word “just” forcefully.
Even when Marcella glared at him, he just smiled brightly with a ‘why are you looking at me like that?’ expression.
“Your Majesty, don’t worry. Your sincerity will reach her eventually.”
“Sincerity?”
Sincerity? Did Arthur Digory really think this emperor harbored even the slightest genuine feelings? No, that couldn’t be.
Marcella glared at Arthur with twisted eyes, trying to escape the net.
“If it’s truly sincere, it might reach me. If it’s sincere.”
“My lady, why do you think it wouldn’t be sincere?”
Marcella hated Arthur Digory for brazenly lying while accusing her of being unjust. Who was he to talk about what was proper?
“When I confess and you reject me, is it because you think I’m not sincere?”
“It seems that way. You must have quite a misunderstanding.”
Nell tilted his head slightly, slowly moving his eyes as if thinking, then parted his lips.
“Then how many times would I need to confess before you’d accept it as sincere?”
At Nell’s question, Marcella pondered. Just how many times would she need to hear this nonsense before it would end?
“…A hundred times.”
“A hundred times?”
“Yes.”
Marcella thought he surely couldn’t do such a thing.
How could he do something so troublesome? You don’t really like me anyway. Rather than waste time with such antics, it would be faster to find another lady.
“So you’ll stay by my side while I confess a hundred times?”
Seeing Nell’s unwavering gaze, Marcella finally realized she’d made some kind of mistake.
Could the emperor’s proposal, his desire to confess, actually be sincere?
Marcella frowned and studied Nell.
Didn’t people’s eyes look different when gazing at someone they loved? Marcella recalled how her brother-in-law used to look at her sister and shook her head. It was completely different from how this emperor looked at her.
Though he spoke as if sincere, it couldn’t be real. His eyes were as cold as the magical stones he’d given her, seemingly devoid of any emotion.
Such a person couldn’t possibly confess a hundred times out of genuine affection. After all, she’d only said she’d accept it as sincere after a hundred confessions, not that she’d accept his feelings.
Marcella kept bringing up various reasons to reassure herself that she hadn’t made a mistake.
“You are merciful.”
At Nell’s words, Marcella looked up.
He lowered his eyes to look at the steaming tea, barely moving his lips.
“No proposals allowed, but confessions are permitted…”
The steam from the tea stopped rising.
“Merciful.”
Merciful? Marcella’s lips parted slightly.
The shameless Arthur Digory had blocked her words, claiming it wouldn’t be just to forbid confessions. Yet this was mercy?
Marcella felt Nell was deceiving her.
“Indeed! Truly fitting of an empress’s grace!”
When Arthur laughed and made hollow compliments, Marcella glared at him. Arthur raised both hands toward her in surrender.
“Forgive me, Lady Marcella. I got carried away and my inner thoughts slipped out.”
“I will never become empress.”
“Yes, my lady. Since we agreed I wouldn’t ask about becoming empress, I’ll be more careful going forward.”
Arthur smiled and lowered his hands. Nell set down his steaming teacup and looked at Marcella.
Marcella couldn’t trust Arthur. She never knew when he’d try to trap her again with empress talk.
“Anyway, since that’s decided, we shouldn’t just sit here drinking tea. How about taking a walk?”
Arthur looked out the window. Though it was still hot August summer, it was perfect weather to show off their harmonious relationship.
“Aren’t you tired of just drinking tea?”
“Are you planning to show me some treasure again?”
As a child, she’d been curious about various imperial treasures, but now she had no such desire.
She’d gone to the underground treasury to see the dragon-slaying sword, only to get caught in that blizzard, lose consciousness, and fall ill. Thanks to Arthur Digory catching her then, things had escalated to this point.
“Is there something you’d like to see?”
Nell gazed at Marcella as he asked.
When Marcella shook her head, he blinked silently and looked away.
“The dragon-slaying sword?”
After causing all that commotion, did she really want to see that sword? Marcella shook her head at Nell’s question.
“You don’t necessarily need to see treasures on a walk. You must feel confined staying here all the time. The palace is larger than you’d think, so it would be good exercise.”
Arthur smiled brightly.
