Nagging, Spies, and a Mysterious Man

Diana barely stepped into her study when Raizel's voice hit her like a sharp gust of wind.

"You jumped out of a window?!"

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Brother, I—"

"With Lucien?" His blue eyes narrowed.

Diana glanced at her son, who stood beside her, hands clasped behind his back like a guilty kitten. His black hair was slightly ruffled, and his wide grey eyes darted between her and Raizel.

Diana lifted her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I won't do it again."

Raizel folded his arms, unimpressed. "You said that last time."

"I mean it this time," Diana promised, her tone light.

Raizel gave her a long, tired stare before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Diana, you used to be a refined woman. The flower of high society. What happened?"

Diana tilted her head. "I… bloomed?"

"With thorns," Raizel muttered under his breath.

Lucien hesitated before stepping forward, his small hands gripping the edge of his cloak.

"...I'm sorry, Uncle," he said softly.

Raizel blinked.

Damn it.

Lucien's innocent doe eyes were a weapon more dangerous than any sword.

Raizel sighed in defeat and dropped into the nearest chair, rubbing his temples.

"This is why I don't visit often," he muttered. "My lifespan shortens every time."

Diana smirked and turned to Ellise. "Take Lucien to clean up. He's had enough adventure for one day."

Ellise, who had been standing stiffly in the corner, quickly bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Lucien obediently took her hand but turned back once more, looking at Raizel with an almost guilty expression.

"Are you mad at Mother?" he asked.

Raizel sighed again, shaking his head. "I'm just tired."

Lucien nodded seriously, as if making a mental note not to stress his uncle further. Then, with one last glance at his mother, he left.

Diana watched them go before finally settling into the chair across from Raizel, crossing one leg over the other.

"So," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "You're visiting early. What happened?"

Raizel exhaled sharply. His usual calm expression darkened.

"There's a spy," he said bluntly. "From Callis."

Diana's fingers tapped against the armrest.

Callis Kingdom.

Her chest tightened as memories of her past life surfaced.

The western kingdom had always been a thorn in the empire's side, but their true crime had been dragging the empire into war after Verdeca was weakened by cultist activity.

Back then, Diana had been too foolish—too trapped in the palace—to see the full picture.

She had watched from gilded cages as her empire bled.

And by the time she had understood…

It had been too late.

Diana's golden eyes flickered back to Raizel. "How certain are we?"

"The spy blended in with the immigrants entering Verdeca," Raizel said, leaning back. "We don't know their exact target yet, but if they're here now, it means Callis is preparing for something."

Diana nodded.

"So you have to return to the western border," she mused.

Raizel didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked at her, his gaze softening just slightly.

"I wanted to spend more time with you and Lucien," he admitted.

Diana's heart clenched, but she kept her expression neutral.

The past her would have clung to his words, but now…

Now, she knew the empire wouldn't wait for her.

Neither would war.

She gave him a small smile. "Then we'll just have to make up for lost time later."

Raizel stared at her for a moment before shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. "You really have changed."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "For better or worse?"

Raizel smirked. "Still deciding."

Diana laughed softly, but her amusement faded as she straightened in her seat.

"I have a request," she said.

Raizel lifted a brow. "Go on."

"I need you to find someone for me."

Raizel frowned slightly. "Who?"

Diana's fingers traced idle patterns on the wooden table.

"Black hair. Emerald eyes. About 190 cm. A bit skinny. He carries a silver sword."

Raizel's expression shifted to confusion. "…Black hair?"

Diana simply nodded.

Black hair was a rare trait in the empire, often linked to royalty.

Which meant Raizel was already making connections.

"Diana," he said slowly, "who exactly is this man?"

Diana met his gaze, unwavering. "Someone I need to meet."

Raizel studied her, searching for more, but Diana didn't elaborate.

After a long pause, he sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

She smiled. "That's all I ask."

Raizel ran a hand through his silver hair, standing up. "I should leave before you give me more work."

Diana grinned. "Oh? But you look so handsome when you're stressed."

Raizel shot her a dry look before shaking his head.

"Take care of yourself, Diana," he said.

Her smile softened.

"I will."

And for the first time in a long while—

She meant it.

*****

The rich scent of fine fabrics filled the air as Liliana delicately ran her fingers over the shimmering silk spread out before her.

"More frills," she instructed smoothly, watching as the tailor adjusted the design sketches. "And more embellishments. I want the embroidery to be inlaid with pearls, and the cape should have golden threadwork."

The tailor, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes, nodded while hastily scribbling down notes.

Liliana smiled in satisfaction.

Yes. As long as she acted like the perfect lady—elegant, refined, and benevolent—everything would fall into place.

The real mother of the empire.

She turned her gaze toward her children, Roan and Elysian, who sat on a lavishly cushioned sofa in the fitting room.

Roan, the elder of the two, was trying to keep still as a maid adjusted his collar. He had dark hair and sharp features that mirrored his father's. His blue eyes, however, were purely hers.

Elysian, on the other hand, was swinging her legs slightly, already growing bored with the long tailoring process. She was a delicate girl, her soft curls pinned up with golden hairpins, her large eyes filled with impatience.

Liliana's smile softened.

Yes, these two were the true heirs. The future of the empire.

Not him.

Not Lucien.

The thought of the frail, gray-eyed boy soured her mood. That child had no place in her family.

That was why she had already ensured that the Empress—that woman—couldn't place any clothing orders for herself or her son.

Let her and her pathetic excuse of a child scramble for whatever was left.

Liliana turned back to the tailor.

"Make sure the gemstones on the shoulders are noticeable," she added. "The banquet must reflect the empire's prestige."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the tailor agreed, though there was a slight hesitation in her voice.

Liliana barely noticed.

She was too busy admiring the grandeur of the designs.

Silk, velvet, intricate gold embroidery—her children would look like the true heirs they were.

She waved a hand dismissively. "Price is of no concern. Use the finest materials available."

The tailor nodded, though there was now definite unease in her expression.

Still, Liliana paid it no mind.

She deserved this.

She had earned this.

Her children deserved only the best.

Then—

A sharp knock on the door.

Liliana's brows twitched slightly, annoyed at the sudden interruption.

The door opened, and a palace official stepped inside.

"Your Majesty," the man bowed respectfully. "I apologize for the interruption, but I must discuss the finances regarding the upcoming banquet."

Liliana's grip on her silk gloves tightened, though her expression remained composed.

The Minister of Palace Finance.

How annoying.

Still, she had to act the part of a perfect lady.

She placed a hand over her chest and offered a gentle smile.

"Oh, is there a problem?" she asked sweetly.

The minister hesitated slightly before clearing his throat.

"Your Majesty… your current clothing orders have exceeded the allocated budget."

Liliana's smile faltered—just slightly.

But she recovered quickly.

"Surely you understand," she said, maintaining her graceful tone, "that appearances are crucial for the empire's reputation. The attire must reflect our dignity and status."

The minister adjusted his glasses.

"Of course, Your Majesty. However, given the costs, I would advise a reconsideration of the final expenses."

Liliana's jaw tightened.

This man dares question her?

"Minister," she said, tilting her head slightly, her voice laced with forced patience, "is the reputation of the empire not worth the cost?"

The man shifted uncomfortably.

"That is not my point, Your Majesty. It is my duty to ensure that the palace expenses remain within reason."

Liliana's fingers curled into the fabric of her dress.

She wanted to snap at him.

To scream.

To tell him to mind his own business.

But she couldn't.

Not here.

Not now.

So she smiled.

"As you wish," she said, pretending to relent.

The minister gave a short nod. "Then I propose a review of the budget alongside Her Majesty, the Empress."

Liliana felt her entire body stiffen.

The Empress?

That woman?

She forced another smile. "Of course. That sounds… reasonable."

The minister bowed once more. "I will schedule a discussion with both Your Majesties soon."

Then, he turned and left.

The moment the door clicked shut, the air in the room shifted.

Liliana's smile vanished.

A heavy silence settled over the chamber.

The tailor and the palace servants froze.

Even Roan and Elysian had stopped fidgeting. They sat completely still on the sofa, exchanging glances.

They knew.

Their mother was about to explode.

Liliana's fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of the nearest table.

That woman.

That wretched woman.

The mere thought of Diana standing in her way—challenging her authority, questioning her decisions—made her blood boil.

She was the true mother of the empire.

She was the one meant to stand beside Cassian.

She had won.

And yet—

That woman still existed.

Still held power.

And worst of all…

She still had Lucien.

Liliana's chest heaved as she suppressed the raging emotions inside her.

No.

No, she couldn't lose control now.

Everything was fine.

Everything was still in her hands.

She just had to be careful.

"Mother?"

Elysian's small voice broke through the silence.

Liliana turned her head sharply.

Both of her children were staring at her—hesitant, almost wary.

It took her a moment to soften her expression again.

She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over her dress.

"Everything is fine," she said sweetly, stepping toward them and brushing a hand over Elysian's soft curls. "There's nothing to worry about, my darlings."

Elysian still looked uncertain, her little hands twisting in her lap.

Roan, however, glanced toward the retreating tailor and the still-nervous maids before looking back at his mother.

His blue eyes, so much like hers, were sharp.

Observing.

Calculating.

Liliana smiled again, but this time, there was a cold edge beneath the warmth.

Everything was fine.

The real mother of the empire had nothing to fear.