Ignoring the creepy feeling, we walked closer to the Emperor's throne, the red carpet stretching beneath our feet like a path of silk fire. Murmurs quieted. The chandeliers cast a golden glow on Papa's dark robes.
And then—
"RISE."
Papa's voice rang through the grand hall like warm thunder, smooth and commanding all at once.
At once, the sea of nobles obeyed. Skirts rustled, boots tapped, and heads lifted in perfect unison. It was like someone had pressed a magic button called Respect the Emperor.
Papa stood at the top of the dais, cloaked in black and gold, the imperial insignia shining at his shoulder. He held me in his arms — securely, protectively — as if I were both treasure and crown. His expression remained composed, but the way his fingers rested gently at my back told me everything.
But...Papa is so cool~~~
So shiny~~~
