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Exiling the youngest legitimate son to the countryside as if casting him aside wasn’t enough, the emperor had also clashed with his other siblings. He wasn’t on good terms with two of the three empresses he had officially wed, save for the Third Empress. Adding to his tarnished reputation, he brought in young concubines every month.
To make matters worse, none of the three empresses in the main palace had given him a son. A few months prior, one of his young concubines bore him a son, but the three empresses each had only one daughter.
Both his domestic and foreign policies were in shambles. Even the Prime Minister Mankel, who suggested making the First Empress’s daughter the imperial successor, was imprisoned, worsening the emperor’s public standing. One could only guess what the emperor might be focused on in such circumstances.
Alec, on the other hand, was intent on widely broadcasting his return to his half-brother. And, just as in his previous life, he vowed this time to thoroughly destroy the Oppeese family and the woman from Belzenore who had dared to obstruct him—leaving nothing but dust behind.
It was the evening after returning from the Marquis of Heslo’s estate. After bathing and donning a velvet robe, Alec approached Lara, who was seated at her vanity. He placed a kiss on the nape of her neck.
Startled, Lara turned to look at him.
“Why are you so surprised?”
Alec, with an expression that seemed genuinely puzzled, asked as though unaware of anything. Lara wondered if she was the one being unreasonable. She set down the comb she had been holding and stared at him blankly.
She remembered everything—both he and she did.
Although she wasn’t sure how much Alec recalled of the events at the Marquis’s estate, it was clear that his memories were complete.
Lara didn’t know what happened to him after she and Loras burned to death. She could only vaguely assume that he too had died at some point, whether by murder or illness. If he had died, then what was this life? What were these days they now lived?
“Don’t kiss my neck,” Lara said.
“Why not?”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t touch me,” she replied dryly.
Alec looked down at her, his face unyielding and unreadable. She couldn’t discern his thoughts. Rising from the vanity, she moved to leave the room. Upon reflection, there was no reason for her to stay in this bedroom. After all, they both remembered everything now.
In their past life, they had also lived separately. While he resided in the main palace, she had lived in a secluded annex, akin to sleeping in separate rooms.
Actually, it wasn’t uncommon for empresses to have their own private quarters. Depending on their status and the number of maids and attendants they commanded, their living areas within the main palace varied. But Lara had been secluded in a remote annex, far from the other empresses.
When she had asked to leave the imperial palace, saying it was too difficult to maintain her position, she was denied. As a compromise, she was allowed to live in the annex instead.
She had left his side more than 15 years ago in that life. As a couple, they hadn’t shared a night together for over 15 years. Lara no longer thought of him as her husband.
And yet… and yet…
“Why?”
Alec asked. His abrupt question carried a twisted energy, a tension that hung in the air. Lara said nothing, simply pushing him away.
“If you want to, go find another woman.”
“Why would I look for another woman when I have you?”
It was laughable. No, it was infuriating, leaving her feeling filthy inside. If only he had gone to other women countless times. If only the children born of those women hadn’t roamed shamelessly in front of her, or if those same women hadn’t tried to harm the children she bore—two of them, no less…
“You’re speaking as if it’s always been me and no one else,” she said coldly.
“Rose—”
“Don’t call my name.”
“….”
“It disgusts me.”
“I need you. No one else will do.”
“Ah, is that so? And yet…”
She faltered, unsure of where to begin dissecting his words. Her hands trembled as she glared at him. Then, shoving his chest, she turned away. She needed to calm herself.
Dragging up irreparable days from the past and gnawing at them wouldn’t resolve anything. It would only leave her more raw and scraped inside. Lara opened the door, intending to leave and find an empty room to retreat to. But his hand grabbed her and turned her around.
“Say it outright.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“If you’re angry, tell me. I’ll apologize, and I’ll fix it.”
“Why should I? Why should I even bother talking to you? I’m sick of you. Even if you hear why I’m angry, there’s nothing you can fix. It’s not something you can apologize for. It’s not even something you should apologize for. So just—ow!”
Her arm was yanked forcefully. Lara found herself being dragged back into the bedroom, bewildered. She looked up at him in shock as Alec locked the door and pushed her to sit on the bed. His overpowering strength left her breathless.
“Then sleep with me.”
“What?”
“Take it off.”
“Are you insane?”
“No, I’m perfectly sane, Rose. My mind is entirely clear.”
“I’m pregnant! You’re asking a pregnant woman to—”
“You didn’t seem to mind before. Even a few days ago, you were in my arms, crying so beautifully. Don’t you remember?”
Alec’s lips curved slightly, while Lara glared at him, her expression twisted in anger. Even back then, she had felt uneasy. Yes, even as she cried out in his arms, she had pushed against his chest, unsettled.
To think that the source of her unease and revulsion was this. Lara recalled their last kiss before the end of her life. The nausea and disgust that had overtaken her the moment their lips met were still vividly clear.
It was indescribably sickening and repulsive.
“I don’t want to do that with you,” she spat.
When Alec’s fingers brushed her shoulder, Lara shoved him away, trembling. Alec, unfazed, took another step closer. Lara stepped back half a pace, biting her lip.
Alec slowly removed his robe, revealing his chiseled chest and the defined ridges of his abs. Lara recoiled, avoiding him.
In a swift motion, his long, muscular arms wrapped around her. Lara was gently pulled into his embrace. His smooth, pale skin was warmer than she expected, and his familiar scent enveloped her.
No one in their right mind would find this touch repulsive. It was the very sensation Gladys had longed for, and surely, no woman in the world could resist such a beautiful and striking man.
And yet, Lara found him unbearably repellent.
As his lips brushed her neck and began to trail down toward her collarbone, she grabbed his shoulders to push him away. But Alec caught her hands and whispered,
“Why don’t you want to be in my arms?”
“…Do you really not know?”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t want to live here with you!”
“Why?”
Her simmering anger erupted, breaking through her restraint. Lara pounded her fists against his chest, shouting,
“Because it ended like that! Did you forget? Do you not remember how I died? Do you not know how I lived until the moment I died?”
Her cry was raw and unrestrained, more a scream than a coherent statement. Her voice cracked, and the words came out slurred, leaving her unsatisfied.
She glared at him, trembling with fury. Even after shouting, the knot in her chest refused to loosen. Alec, however, showed no signs of guilt or remembrance—his expression was calm, unshadowed by even the faintest trace of regret.
It was hateful enough to make her want to kill him. Ever since those memories returned, Lara had not had a single moment of peace. From the Heslo Marquis’ residence to now, every second had been torment.
The anxiety and fear were so overwhelming that she wondered if she might lose her mind.
Some days, she was consumed with rage over the fact that her husband had deceived her. On others, fear would overtake her at the thought that someone might attack her. She repeated to herself countless times that it was just her imagination, but it wasn’t. As soon as she attended the formal dinner, she was met with what felt like a veiled threat from Gillian.
“So?”
Lara froze mid-shout. Unlike her trembling self, the man remained utterly calm.
“That hasn’t even happened.”
“You…”
“It’s something that doesn’t exist,” he said firmly. “I never laid with another woman, and I’ve never had a child with anyone else. The foolish version of me you remember doesn’t exist in this world. Do you understand? The world we remember exists only in our memories. It doesn’t exist here.”
How could he think like that? He remembered everything, too. So how could he dismiss it as if it had never happened? Lara stared at him in disbelief.
No matter how much she tried to erase them, the wounds left by those memories wouldn’t fade. Even now, after coming back, they remained just as vivid.
To Lara, it was all unbearable. The thought of reliving it all made her want to die.
She wanted to end it immediately, to cut her wrists right then and there. But she couldn’t—she was pregnant. The only reason she hadn’t left him was the damage her sudden departure would cause to his reputation.
“The pain you remember. The life I ended… The missteps between us—none of that exists here. My child was never lost or broken.”
His voice was steady as he continued. Lara looked at him with hollow eyes. Alec gently pulled her toward him, resting his hand on her lower abdomen.
“Our child is here. Lara, I’ll be this child’s father. I’ll protect them no matter what and love them with all my heart.”
“…”
“I’ll never let you go.”
Her tightly shut lips twitched. Lara coldly pushed his hand away and shook her head. Alec, desperate, grasped her shoulders and tried to meet her gaze, even as she turned her face away. He held her chin gently, directing her eyes to his.
“Lara.”
A chill ran through her. How did he know that name? She had never, not once, been called by it in his presence. Lara opened her tightly closed eyes and looked up at him.
He gazed at her with a face full of tenderness. A face capable of devouring every last bit of her.
“How do you know that name? Why…?”
“I love you, Lara,” he murmured.
His lips brushed against her earlobe, his voice like a spell. His hands began unbuttoning her nightgown, long fingers tracing the curve of her pale back, inch by inch, as if memorizing her body.
Lara bit her lip hard, glaring at him. His lips moved from her earlobe to the bridge of her nose, pressing a gentle kiss there.
“Lara.”
He whispered her name again, his face alight with rapture, as if savoring a forbidden pleasure. His hands traveled from her back to her chest, cupping her soft, rounded breasts that had begun to swell with pregnancy.
His gaze lingered on her body, now visibly changed by the life growing within her. The sight seemed to overwhelm him, and he faltered, then pressed her down onto the bed. Lara, powerless, fell into his grasp.
“You’re so perfect, Lara. So perfect,” he murmured.
He called her name repeatedly, as if enchanted by it, oblivious to how devastated and humiliated she felt. His lips found the nape of her neck, leaving a trail of heat that felt like a shock of electricity, making her tremble with tears.