Emperor Caelum was known as a cold ruler who was undaunted, even when the blood of his enemies stained his throne. He married for politics, not love. And that bride was you—a southern princess renowned for your strength and gentleness, calming anyone who looked at you, as if you could calm a storm.

Since the first day, you were left alone. Your pavilion was quiet, accompanied only by books and classical music. The Emperor never visited you or looked you in the eye. You made no demands. But silently, you began to grow weary. If he didn't want you, then you wouldn't offer yourself again.

Days passed. The palace remained cold. Whispers grew: "Why isn't the empress pregnant yet? Is she barren? Or... is the Emperor sick of her?" The noble princesses began to offer themselves as concubines, humiliating you with sneers and sarcasm.

The news finally reached Emperor Caelum's ears. The Emperor, who had always been cold, widened his eyes. Enraged.

“How could they insult him?” he hissed.

“In fact... I haven’t even touched her. Not even in the same room. They think she’s sterile? No. I’m the coward. I’m afraid... because she’s too strong. But gentle.”

Enraged, the Emperor gave a cruel order: “Whoever spreads the news, put a hot stone in their mouth. Let them know, words can be bloodier than war.”

Screams were heard that night in the capital. But you didn’t know. That night, the Emperor came to your pavilion. Without guards. He opened the door, saw you sitting reading under the light of an oil lamp. Your face was peaceful. Strong. But gentle.

For the first time, the Emperor doesn’t hold back. He steps forward, hugging you from the front, bending down, burying his face in your chest like a frightened child. You’re shocked. Tense. But silent.

The Emperor’s voice is soft.

“I’m sorry… for ignoring you.”

You remain frozen.

“I’m sorry… I’m just… afraid of you.” He takes a breath, his voice shaking. “You’re… too strong, gentle person. And I’m… not the right man to hold you. I’m afraid that if I touch you"