Her heart was beating so loudly she was convinced he could hear it.
That had to be a trap. There was no other explanation. No emperor in his right mind stood that close, asked that gently, and looked that composed unless he was absolutely certain of victory.
Say yes. Say you want him to stop. End this now!
The command echoed inside her head with increasing desperation.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Her body, once again, betrayed her in the most humiliating way possible by remaining completely still. She didn't step back. She didn't push him away. She didn't even manage to glare convincingly. She just stood there, pulse racing, sleeves clenched in her fists like a nervous extra in someone else's dramatic scene.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged.
The emperor did not move. He did not reach for her. He did not corner her further.
He simply waited.
Infuriatingly self-controlled.
The fact that he wasn't touching her somehow made it worse. If he had grabbed her, she could have blamed him. If he had forced the distance to disappear, she could have yelled. But this, this careful restraint left the choice dangling in front of her like a test she had not studied for.
"…Aira," he said softly, her name low and warm in his voice, "if you wish me to stop, say so."
Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her sleeves until her knuckles ached.
Why can't I speak? Why does my brain feel like it's melting into useless mush? This man is standing behind me like a final boss cutscene, and I'm glitching through dialogue options!
"I—" she began, intending to say something firm and decisive.
Then she turned around.
That was her first mistake.
He was closer than she expected. Not touching, but close enough that the space between them felt fragile, like a thin sheet of glass that could shatter at any moment. She could see the subtle shift in his pupils, the way his gaze flickered down to her lips before returning to her eyes, as though he had caught himself mid-thought and corrected it.
That restraint struck her harder than any bold action would have.
Oh no.
That is unfairly attractive.
Why is that attractive?
"You're doing it again!" she blurted out, because clearly her mouth had no loyalty to her survival.
"Doing what?" he asked calmly.
"Looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're trying very hard not to eat me."
He tilted his head slightly, genuinely considering her accusation. "…Eat?"
There was a short pause before he added, in complete seriousness, "…I would not eat you."
"That is not it," she groaned. "I mean—ugh, that's not the point!"
She tried to retreat, only to realize too late that she had already reached the edge of her bed. Her calves bumped against the mattress, and her balance wavered.
Of course the universe would set the scene like this. Of course there had to be a bed involved. Because subtlety had apparently left the palace entirely.
She wobbled, and before she could fully panic, his hand came out not grabbing, not pulling just steadying her elbow.
Bare skin brushed against bare skin.
It was barely a touch, but it felt like a spark had traveled straight up her arm.
Her thoughts dissolved into incoherent screaming.
Why is his hand so warm? Why is it steady? Why does this feel like every dramatic scene I've ever reread at two in the morning when I was supposed to be asleep?
She inhaled sharply.
His eyes darkened almost immediately.
"…There.." he said quietly.
Her stomach dropped. "There what?"
"That reaction," he replied. "You inhaled sharply. Your pulse accelerated."
"Stop making things up!" she protested. "I'm j-just s-startled. Anyone would react like that if an emperor randomly touched them. And don't call it a reaction like you're conducting an experiment, you p-perv!"
"Perv?" His lips curved faintly. "In this situation, I believe I am no longer the innocent one since you did not pull away and your body appears to respond."
Her mouth opened to argue but closed again.
He leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving her every possible opportunity to stop him.
She should have taken it. She really should have.
Instead, her mind betrayed her again.
Okay, but hypothetically speaking, if this were a novel, this is the exact part where the tension finally—
His lips brushed hers.
It wasn't a full kiss. It was just a soft, tentative contact, like he was testing whether she would retreat.
She didn't.
Her breath caught once more, and without any permission from her brain, her hands curled into the front of his robe.
The emperor froze.
Completely.
This time, it was his breath that hitched.
"…Aira," he murmured, voice lower now, roughened in a way that made her stomach flip, "your hands—"
"I did not do that on purpose," she whispered urgently. "I swear, my hands are acting independently. They have betrayed me. I am not responsible for their actions."
"But you did it" he said gently.
"I didn't mean to!"
Silence hung between them, thick and dangerous.
Then he asked, very quietly, "…May I?"
Her brain went completely blank.
May I?
Why is he polite right now? Why is he asking permission when I can barely think straight?
Her dignity tried to intervene, but her mouth moved first.
"…Just don't rush."
The second the words left her lips, she wanted to grab them and stuff them back in.
That counted as permission.
His lips pressed to hers again, this time fully, but still gentle. There was no force, no overwhelming dominance like before. He moved carefully, almost cautiously, as if afraid she might vanish.
And that softness was what undid her.
Her body responded instantly, like it had been waiting for this exact moment. Her lips softened, parted slightly without conscious thought, and she leaned in just a fraction closer.
A low sound escaped him, half breath, half restrained amusement.
When he pulled back just enough to look at her, she saw it.
That small, triumphant smirk.
"Oh," he murmured. "So this is what you meant."
Her eyes flew open.
Reality crashed back in like ice water.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded.
"You are responding," he said calmly, far too calmly for someone who had just been kissing her. "Without instruction."
Her face burned.
"I—no—that was—my body is confused!"
"As you said earlier," he reminded her, "sometimes the body reacts before the mind."
He leaned in again, brushing her lips briefly, almost teasingly.
And she followed.
The moment her brain registered what she had just done, she jerked back, hands flying to her mouth.
"That was not intentional!" she exclaimed.
He straightened, returning his hands to his sides, but the smug satisfaction remained in his expression.
"You kissed back" he said.
"I did not."
"You leaned in."
"That was gravity."
"Your lips parted."
"Reflex."
His smirk deepened.
I cannot believe I am losing an argument.
"That proves my point." he said.
"There was no point!"
"There was," he replied. "You wished to stop, yet you did not. You wished to resist, yet you responded."
She spluttered helplessly.
"That does not mean you get to tease me about it."
"I am not teasing." he said with exaggerated seriousness.
She stared at him.
"You are absolutely teasing."
"…Perhaps a little."
Her jaw dropped in disbelief.
"I learned a lo" he continued, now genuinely thoughtful. "You react strongly when challenged."
Her soul wanted to evaporate on the spot.
"This lesson is over." she declared, attempting to push him toward the door.
He allowed himself to be guided back without resistance.
"You kissed me back." he reminded her calmly.
"Once."
"And unconsciously."
Her face flared again.
"I will never live this down."
He smiled fully this time, warmth softening the sharpness of his features.
"Thank you, instructor," he said. "Your demonstration was effective."
"There was no demonstration!"
"And yet," he replied smoothly, "I learned."
She dragged both hands down her face.
"I am never teaching you that again."
"I doubt that."
"…I hate you."
"No," he corrected gently. "You are flustered."
She paused at the door, gripping the handle.
"Do not get any ideas!" she warned.
His gaze held hers steadily. "I already have."
Then he fled before she could say anything else.
Her heart was racing, her face still burning, and her thoughts were spiraling out of control.
I kissed an emperor. I kissed him back. Twice. I have officially lost all moral authority in this palace.
Outside the room, the emperor lifted his hand slowly, brushing his fingers over his lips as though confirming the memory was real.
Then, very quietly, he smiled.