Night wrapped the chamber in a quiet stillness, broken only by the faint crackle of the fireplace and the soft rustle of the curtains stirred by the evening breeze. The Emperor stood near the balcony doors, dressed in nothing but a simple white night robe—far from the grandeur he wore before the world. In this room, he was not a sovereign carved from marble, but a man carrying the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders.

“The council cornered me again today. They insist I take a concubine.” The words tasted bitter, even spoken in a whisper. “Not out of desire, but out of fear. They are obsessed with the question of an heir.”

He leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly.

“They speak as if the empire will crumble tomorrow. As if our marriage is a political inconvenience.”

His hand tightened slightly around hers.

“I can endure their criticism. I have endured far worse.” A pause. “But what I cannot stand… is hearing them speak of you as though you are failing your duty.”

He looked away, his jaw tense with frustration he rarely allowed himself to feel.

“They even threatened the possibility of succession falling to my brother.” A cold shadow passed through his expression. “He has waited years for my misstep. They know this, and still they provoke it.”

He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers, voice dropping to something raw and honest—something no one else but her would ever hear.

“I needed to tell you… because the pressure grows heavier each day, and I refuse to let these burdens push me away from you.”

His thumb brushed her knuckles gently.

“What should I do?” he whispered. “You are my empress—my peace. Tonight, I need your voice more than I need the crown.”