I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! - Chapter 80

“…Ahem.”

The Countess’s deliberate cough snapped me back to reality. I had spoken those words without thinking, forgetting the situation entirely. Embarrassed, I turned my head to the side, but the Duke, either oblivious or unconcerned, spoke through the crystal.

“Show me your face, Yuraine.”

“N-Not now. Later.”

“Later? When?”

“When I return safely… I’ll show you then.”

“…I trust you.”

The Duke offered a faint smile before turning to the Countess.

“Is there anything I can do to assist from here?”

“No, Your Majesty. We’ve prepared a new carriage and fresh clothes. Once Her Majesty’s testimony is complete, we’ll ride back immediately. Is Sir Reon still in Airdren?”

“He’s at the imperial palace.”

“That’s good. I’ll return with him.”

“Understood. I’ll send someone to Sert. Be cautious until the end.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Countess and I answered in unison. The light from the crystal faded, and the Duke’s image disappeared. I found myself staring wistfully at the orb when the Countess clapped her hands lightly, drawing my attention.

“The carriage and clothes will be here shortly. Once they arrive, we’ll head to the imperial palace, finish the testimony as quickly as possible, and return to Iser.”

“Good.”

I, too, wanted nothing more than to return to Iser. It felt like home now—a place of belonging.

Not long after, the inn became bustling with activity. The Countess went downstairs to inspect the newly arrived carriage and horses, while I changed into formal attire. Once dressed in a crisp suit with my hair tied neatly, I descended to find the Countess ready and seated in the coachman’s seat.

“Countess… You can drive a carriage?”

“I can manage.”

“‘Manage’ as in…?”

“I’ve done it once before.”

“….”

Well, it was the Countess. She could probably handle it. I climbed into the carriage. Though it rattled a bit and moved swiftly, it was otherwise fine. The distance to the imperial palace wasn’t far, as we were already near the outskirts.

Since this was a testimony, not a formal trial, we headed to the palace’s courtroom instead of the Emperor’s residence. Upon disembarking, I saw attendants in judicial robes and uniforms hurrying about.

Trials involving the Emperor himself were rare, perhaps once a year, and usually deserted. This courtroom, however, was different. Noble divorces, inheritance disputes, and other high-profile cases were often handled here, making it as busy as any national courthouse outside the palace.

Once inside, an attendant promptly guided me deeper into the building. The Countess, not being directly involved in the testimony and with no public gallery for this session, had to remain outside. Though being alone made me uneasy, I reassured myself that if something were to happen to me here in the imperial court, it would fall squarely on the Emperor’s shoulders. At the very least, I was unlikely to face an attack or assassination here.

When my name was called, I stood and stepped forward. I had expected a small, quiet chamber—this wasn’t an official trial, just a hearing for my testimony. But as the heavy doors opened, I frowned. The courtroom was only slightly smaller than the one where the Emperor presided over murder cases.

Three judges were seated above, accompanied by two scribes. Though the gallery was empty, the room was filled with legal personnel. Swallowing my unease, I sat at the witness stand.

“Witness, step forward.”

After skimming through documents for a while, one of the judges finally addressed me. I stood and moved to the stand, where a line of judges on my left began questioning me in turn.

“Has the Duke of Iser ever mistreated you?”

“No.”

“Has the Duke of Iser ever treated you unfairly?”

“No.”

“Have you ever…”

The questions were repetitive, merely rephrased versions of the same inquiries. As they continued, they became more detailed and insidious. When asked if I had ever felt the Duke’s actions were unreasonable, I nearly laughed at the absurdity.

I had never felt that way about the Duke, and even if I had, wasn’t that a normal sentiment in any relationship? Between spouses, or even between people in general?

“…Your Honors, Airdren’s accusations are baseless. I’ve been living in complete comfort.”

“You are not permitted to testify about Airdren. Your testimony is limited to the Duke of Iser.”

How infuriating. I had to work hard to maintain a composed expression.

“My husband, the Duke of Iser, has been nothing but sincere and respectful to me.”

“Witness, what did you discuss with the Duke of Iser before coming to this hearing?”

It was clear this questioning would drag on for hours. I forced a smile and replied.

“He told me to return safely and said he loves me.”

“You seem to have a good relationship.”

“…!”

The response didn’t come from the judges but from the back of the courtroom. Startled, I turned toward the voice, as did everyone else. The room collectively rose to their feet and bowed deeply.

“We greet His Majesty the Emperor.”

The Emperor. For some reason, his face was obscured by a thick veil, making it impossible to read his expression. Why was he here? Struggling to suppress my growing unease, I suddenly noticed something odd.

‘Has the Emperor always had this build?’

Beneath the veil, his physique seemed different—oddly familiar. Lowering my gaze, I focused on his shadow, and a realization struck me.

It matched the man from that night. The one who had impersonated the Emperor and danced with me at the ball. Could it be the same person? My eyes drifted to his hands, visible beyond the veil, and I froze.

On the inside of his wrist was a scar. It was in an unusual place, and yet it was clearly visible, almost as if he wanted me to see it. That scar was unmistakable. I remembered it from long ago, in a lifetime where I had been forced to kneel before someone I never should have.

…Erma.

The man standing before me, pretending to be the Emperor, was Erma.

“The questioning seems to be dragging on. Do you still have much left to ask?”

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

“…Tsk. The Duke specifically asked me to take care of you since your health is fragile. I’ll take the Duchess with me to rest for a while.”

No one in the courtroom raised an objection. The Emperor—or rather, Erma—turned with a flourish of his veil and led the way. I had no choice but to follow. His steps carried us toward the quiet garden corridor behind the courtroom.

‘What should I do…?’

I couldn’t just keep following him. The area was desolate, and Erma had left even his attendants behind. I desperately wracked my brain for a solution. Sir Reon was supposed to be in the imperial palace—perhaps I could use that.

“Your Majesty.”

“What is it?”

“Does the palace… keep any cats?”

“What?”

Erma scoffed, clearly bemused, as he turned to look at me. The sunlight streaming through the veil faintly illuminated his face. At that moment, a soft meow echoed, as if in response to my question.

“Why ask such a thing out of nowhere?”

“Well, to catch rats, one needs a cat, does one not?”

“What…?”

“Seems you’ve gotten carried away playing Emperor, Erma.”

Through the veil, I could see his lips curl into a sly, crooked smile. He chuckled softly and pulled off the veil, revealing his face. As I suspected, it was Erma, his hair dyed the same color as the Emperor’s and his eyes tinted red.

“Watch your words, Duchess. At this moment, I am the Emperor.”

“A rat wearing a crown doesn’t make it a king. It just becomes a rat crushed under the weight of a crown.”

“I told you to watch your mouth!”

Erma shouted furiously. No matter how extravagant the Emperor’s robes were, they looked utterly ridiculous on him. Even with the Emperor’s crown, it would be the same—a rat crushed under the weight, nothing more.

“And you,” I continued. “You’re no longer even the steward of the duchy. How dare you stand before the Duchess of Iser with your head held high?”

In truth, my legs were trembling, and I felt my voice might shake if I relaxed even slightly. But I couldn’t falter here. I couldn’t let myself crumble in front of Erma.

“Erma, I’ll be taking you out of the imperial palace.”

“Wh-who gave you the authority…?!”

Erma’s indignant roar was abruptly cut off as his eyes darted behind me. He froze. Sir Reon had appeared, standing silently at my back.

“Sir Reon,” I said, “I’m thinking of letting the Countess interrogate him first before bringing him to the duchy. What do you think?”

“A splendid decision, Your Majesty.”

Thankfully, it seemed my impulsive idea wasn’t entirely foolish. The garden corridor remained eerily quiet. Too quiet.

“I overheard Erma ordering that no one approach this area,” Sir Reon noted.

“…”

What had Erma intended to do here? Was he planning to reattempt brainwashing me, as he had done with Milen? He seemed to have some way of temporarily borrowing the Emperor’s abilities. Or perhaps… he meant to act on the sordid desires that always gleamed in his lecherous eyes. After all, Erma and the Emperor shared a disturbingly close mental connection.

“Erma.”

“…”

“Your Majesty.”

“What do you want?” he sneered.

His mocking grin confirmed my suspicion—the Emperor was aware of everything through Erma.

“Sir Reon, may I borrow your sword?”

Without hesitation, Sir Reon drew his sword and handed it to me. The blade was heavy—so much so that I swayed slightly under its weight. My hand trembled as I gripped it, though whether from the weight or from something else, I couldn’t tell.

I stepped forward slowly, advancing toward Erma.

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