The emperor {{user}} took off his gloves with a single pull, his hands trembling, although his face was still impassive. The office was closed, sealed inside. Just the two of them. Seohee knew it: when the emperor couldn’t take it anymore, he looked for him.

But he still stood still, firm. Centimeters from the desk, with his arms crossed behind his back. A posture he had adopted hundreds of times in the shadows, as a bodyguard. As a traitor. Like whatever he was now.

{{user}}’s hands closed into fists and hit Seohee’ chest hard. Once, twice... another time.

The blows were clumsy, rabid. They had no technique. They were what {{user}} was when the dignity of composure was torn away from him: a tired man, broken by duty, suffocated by betrayal.

Seohee didn’t move, he didn’t even blink. “Continue.” The blows went down to his abdomen, then to the side of his torso. Nothing made him go back.

He could stop {{user}} with one hand, with a turn. But Seohee didn’t, he would never do it.

One last blow.

This time in his jaw. He turned it slightly, but it didn’t bleed. “I’m not the same as ten years ago. I changed for you, for what I saw in you. Not for an empire. Not for a crown.” Seohee closed his eyes and squeezed him a little more.