Zhongjing, the capital of the Xuan Yi Empire, never truly slept. Even in the freezing autumn like today, the bone-chilling north wind could not dispel the heat of the whispers in the hall of power.

It had been five years since Sylus Zhephiroth, the youngest crown prince in the history of the empire, was crowned Emperor. A tall, tanned young man with bright red eyes and short silver hair like a sword, he stood at the pinnacle of power like a god. But one thing made the entire country restless: he had no descendants.

Furthermore, he had no concubines.

On that day, the main assembly hall in the Front Pavilion was filled with the voices of the high nobles, members of the Grand Council, and heads of influential families.

"—Your Majesty, with all due respect, we are only sending the future of the empire."

"Without a legitimate heir, how can stability be maintained?"

"If something happens to Your Majesty, who will continue—"

"We are not asking for Your Majesty to marry, only to accept concubines. Moreover, one is enough!"

Their voices alternated, layered with falsehood and worry that were too sweet to be believed.

Sylus sat on a towering black silver throne, one leg casually crossed over his knee, his chin resting on his knuckles. His face was flat. Unperturbed.

"Is it finished?" his voice was calm, deep, and echoed throughout the hall.

Once the words were out, the entire room fell silent.

The bright red eyes swept over the rows of nobles standing below. They bowed slightly—out of fear, out of reluctance, or out of shame, no one knew.

"You suggest," he said slowly, his voice rising slightly, "that I take your children… as my concubines?"

His fingers twisted the lion's back of his chair. The knocking echoed, cutting through the silence.

No one answered.

Only a few noblemen and women exchanged glances. They had prepared names. Their beautiful, docile, fertile children. Those who had been trained from childhood to seduce, to obey, to bear heirs to the Emperor's blood.

Sylus took a deep breath. Then stood up.

His towering body and authority made many hold their breath.

"Get out."

One word.

Like a hammer hitting the floor.

They obeyed. One by one, the nobles bowed, pulled up their sleeves, and left the hall with restrained faces. Not one dared to openly protest.

Only a few people remained in the hall. People who had been silent from the beginning.

Zayne Huanzi, the Legal Advisor who always stood upright on the left side of the throne. Silent and sharp.

Caleb Zadbeckh, the Imperial General, stared intently at the door that had just closed. Straight, full of tension, but silent.

Rafayel Mnatoch, one leg crossed and half leaning against the pillar, chewed grapes while watching the chaos as if watching a stage play.

Xavier Ytearv, standing in the shadows, as usual. Not saying a word.

Sylus stepped down from his throne.

"Do you think I don't know, this is just a power play?" he asked, to no one in particular.

There was no answer. And it wasn't needed.

He walked slowly to the large window of the hall, looking out at the palace garden that was starting to fill with red leaves.

"Five years I refused to have children," he said softly, but loud enough to be heard. "And five years they prepared every loophole, every scheme, every plan... to tie my neck to their children."

Rafael raised an eyebrow. "You can't blame them entirely. This is an empire. Children mean power. A throne without an heir is a battlefield."

Sylus turned his head halfway. "I know. But I also know, the first concubine I take will be a symbol... And a weapon."

Zayne finally spoke calmly and coldly, "They won't stop. Not until a child stands before you and calls you Father."

"And they'll make sure it's not just any child," Caleb added, his tone stiff. "But a tool. To threaten you. Or destroy you."

Sylus approached a small table at the side of the hall. He handed her a cup of cold tea and stared at it like he was staring into a bleak future.

“I’m asexual,” he said flatly. “Not interested in sex. Not in need of intimacy. They know that. But they think they can force me with political pressure.”

He took a sip.

“Very well,” his voice was calm, but cold as steel. “Let’s start their game.”

He turned to Zayne, then to Rafael, Caleb, and Xavier.

“Start the list of names. But don’t let them think I’m picking. Let the thinking ones win…for now.”

Zayne nodded. Rafael smiled faintly. Caleb gripped his sword sheath tighter. Xavier simply slid deeper into the shadows.

The doors to the hall closed again.

Outside, the empire stirs in a silent storm. Inside, the Emperor begins to rewrite the rules of the game.

After the Emperor's shocking declaration, all the noble families who felt they had a "stake" on the throne scrambled to send their children to the palace.

The Imperial rear pavilion, previously calm, almost deserted, suddenly came alive with new faces. Luxuriously dressed young men and women, escorted by servants, entered one by one into the private pavilions that had been prepared for them.

Among them, one name echoed louder than the others.

Blade Albrecht.

The second son of Lord Gregor Albrecht, Imperial Advisor.

His steps were quiet as he passed through the long corridor that led to the Gladiolus Pavilion. By his side, Luke, his loyal servant since childhood, lowered slightly as he watched his surroundings, as if ready to protect his master from too sharp a gaze.

Whispers began to be heard.

"Look... Isn't that Blade? Lord Albrecht's second son."

"Very handsome."

"But why is he the one being sent? Not his younger brother?"

"They say Celeste Albrecht is too valuable to be given to the Emperor."

"Huh... And Blade? The man his family forgot? Why not him?"

"A man like him, would the Emperor touch him?"

"Far from the Emperor's taste. Too cold... too untouchable..."

"Maybe he'll be abandoned... like he's been."

Blade heard it all. Clearly.

But his expression remained the same—flat, sharp, almost lifeless.

"Your Majesty..." Luke whispered softly, as if he wanted to close Blade's ears from the world.

"Don't mind," Blade replied shortly, his tone calm but sharp like steel that could no longer be tempered.

Luke bit his lip. His gaze swept over the servants carrying boxes of Blade's belongings into the pavilion. He gave them a subtle signal to be careful. Hidden spies could be watching from behind the garden or the windows.

Blade continued his steps. Long, steady, unhesitating steps.

The Gladiolus Pavilion appeared before them. A two-story building decorated with gladiolus flower carvings on every pillar and window. Known as the flower of pride and hidden wounds.

Luke hurried forward and opened the door.

"Your chambers, Your Highness," he said, making way.

Blade entered without a word.

The interior was calm and luxurious. A bed with a dark red velvet canopy. Heavy curtains draped over the windows. A small tea table to the right. A fireplace burned softly at the far end of the room, casting golden light that danced across the marble floor.

Blade surveyed the room with eyes that held no trace of admiration.

"The wounds are neat," he said flatly. "As if they were welcoming a bride, not a political hostage."

Luke was silent.

"Leave me alone," Blade continued, walking to the window.

Luke bowed and exited, closing the door softly.

Silence fell over the room.

Blade stood at the window, pulling the heavy curtains aside. From there, he could see other pavilions in the distance. Beautiful buildings that were little more than gilded cages.

Each of them was now inhabited. Each of its inhabitants carried ambition. And in the midst of it all, he stood... not as a lover, not as a charmer... but as a pawn.

But unlike the others, Blade knew he was no ordinary pawn.

He knew exactly why his family had sent him. Not because they wanted him to shine. But because he was less important than the others. Because if he failed, they wouldn't lose much.

Perfect bait.

The autumn wind blew in through the small crack in the window. Cold. Sharp.

Blade closed his eyes.

"I am not your toy, Sylus," he whispered. "And I belong to no one."

In the distance, the palace's evening bell tolled softly.

The first day in the Gladiolus Pavilion had begun.

And the power play had just begun in silence.

Days passed.

But no summons came from the Emperor.

Not one of the concubines was called, touched, or even seen. Pavilion after pavilion was filled with empty routines—learning etiquette, beautifying oneself, waiting for envoys that never arrived.

And the restlessness began to grow.

The concubines, one by one, wrote letters to their families. Some in tears, some in anger.

“Does the Emperor regret it?”

“Does he know I’m here?”

“Is this a punishment or a test?”

But on the other side of the Imperial Pavilion...

A young man stood on the wall, his body slender and tall in a dark night robe.

Blade.

His face was calm, undisturbed by the cold night wind. He had climbed the wall countless times in his mind, and tonight he did it for real.

The sound of the little bird he heard every night, loud and free, stirred his curiosity.

The world outside the palace walls seemed to call to him.

And he hated being locked up. Even by the Emperor.

With practiced movements, Blade jumped down from the top of the wall, landing lightly—

Krakk!

A body beneath him groaned softly.

Blade immediately pulled back. His eyes swept quickly.

Someone was lying on the grass, leaning casually under an old plum tree.

A tall body in simple dark clothes, messy silver hair touching the ground, one hand on his chest, the other supporting his head.

The man opened one eye.

A bright red gaze met Blade's golden eyes.

Silence.

"Quite painful," the man said, his voice low, slightly hoarse from sleep.

Blade remained silent. Only his eyes sharpened.

The man raised an eyebrow slowly. "Usually guests ask permission before stepping on their emperor's body."

Silence.

Then... Blade's heart beat once harder.

He... Sylus.

In a situation like this? No guards. No regalia. Sleeping on the grass like a commoner.

"Is that how you spy?" Sylus sat up slowly, patting the dust off his shoulders, not the least bit panicked. "Or... Do you just miss freedom?"

Blade didn't answer.

He just stood there, stiff, staring at the man who had been the talk of the palace.

"You could have killed me just now," Sylus said flatly. "But you didn't. Good. That shows self-control."

"Just not interested," Blade finally replied.

Sylus stared at him in silence for a moment, then let out a short laugh.

"You're different."

Blade turned away. "I'll be back."

"Why did you jump over the wall?" Sylus asked emotionlessly.

"I don't like being locked up," Blade replied simply.

"Everyone here is locked up," Sylus said, standing up and stretching. "Some just haven't realized it yet."

Blade walked away without saying goodbye. Sylus just watched his back disappear behind the wall, then looked down at the grass.

"Finally," he murmured softly, a small smile etched on his face. "One who doesn't bow and beg."

And the night was calm again.

But in that silence, the empire began to change.