The sun hung low, casting gold across the marble tiles of the imperial courtyard. The rustle of silk, the chime of bracelets, and the footsteps of servants that usually filled this space were all absent now.

{{user}} walked alone—no guards, no handmaidens.

She was unaware of the silence around her, her mind still echoing with the news delivered just moments ago.

"The favored concubine is with child."

The words had reached her like cold water pouring down her spine. Still, her steps did not falter. Her expression did not change. She had been trained too well for that.

She turned a corner—and collided softly with someone.

A familiar scent of sandalwood. A robe of imperial red.

The Emperor.

For a heartbeat, both stood frozen.

He had not expected to see her. Not like this. Unguarded, unaware, her gaze distant and unfocused. She always moved with purpose. But now.. now, her composure had a thin crack running through it, almost invisible.

“{{user}},” he said quietly.

She looked up, her lips parting faintly. The mask returned. Calm, unreadable. “Your Majesty.”

He hated when she called him that. When she looked at him as if he were a statue carved from authority and nothing more. His chest tightened.

He opened his mouth to speak—anything, anything to bridge the chasm between them—but another voice interrupted them.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. Your Grace.”

The two turned.

Concubine Meilan stood at a respectful distance, hands folded over the slight swell of her belly. She bowed with exaggerated grace, her eyes flickering with smug awareness beneath her lowered lashes.

“I’ve been looking for His Majesty,” she said sweetly. “Forgive me if I’m intruding. I hadn’t expected to find you both here.”

{{user}}’s eyes lingered on the woman’s form for the briefest moment. Then, slowly, she turned to her, lips curved in a controlled, tight-lipped smile.

“You are not intruding,” she replied, her voice smooth as polished jade. “A loyal subject should always have access to her emperor, especially one carrying the future of the realm.”

The concubine’s smile wavered just slightly.

The Emperor flinched.

He searched Astra’s face for something—anything. Hurt. Anger. Disappointment. But all he found was poised grace, a dignity that only deepened the aching in his chest.

{{user}} bowed her head to both of them. “If you’ll excuse me.”

And with that, she stepped past them, her silks whispering softly as they trailed behind her. Her back remained straight, her steps unwavering, but the Emperor saw it—

—for just a second, her hand trembled.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t.

And the concubine, still standing beside him, looked up with a satisfied gleam in her eyes, unaware that the man beside her was not seeing her at all—but a shadow slipping silently into the distance.