Loveless

Chapter 4

Something had to be done.

Of that, you were sure.

What you weren't quite sure of, was what exactly.

If either you or your consort hoped to stand a chance of making it through your week at the Chambers rosily inconspicuous and subsequently unscathed, there would have to be some communication.

It would be awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, without a doubt. About the last damn thing you wanted to with your time.

But it was also essential.

Life or death essential.

Whatever your consort's reasons for refusing to even entertain the mere fleeting idea of a real relationship with you, you supposed they were largely irrelevant now. The damage had been done, the line in the sand drawn.

You didn't care enough to want to find out, he clearly didn't think enough of you to offer any explanation.

So, in removing that possibility, your consort had left you with only one option.

Survival.

This was now a match of necessity.

A match that you had been thrown into, and the Magna Imperium expected both of you to commit one hundred percent of your effort and attention to it. That effort and attention—if all went well—would give rise to the one thing the Magna Imperium truly cared about.

Children.

Genetically superior, impossibly perfect children, produced in the name of Human Advancement.

You found it a stupefying concept, that you and this loathsome man had the potential to produce such children, but indeed, you did. It was your entire reason for being matched such as you were, and science never lies.

Yet people do.

Just as you would have to.

To Chan and Eve. To Jisung and Daphne. To Matron. To your parents when you returned home. To Hyunjin when you returned to work.

To the Magna Imperium and everyone else you would ever meet, for the rest of your life.

We're so happy together.

We're lucky to have been matched.

He's the perfect consort. So attentive.

She's the perfect consort. So amenable.

Why, we'd love to have children! It's just not happened for us yet, and that's not for lack of effort, believe me!

We're so in love. All hail the Magna Imperium.

So many lies. So much deceit.

None of it through any will of your own.

Yet this was the hand you'd been dealt, and so, you'd make the damn best of it. Your life was not to be ruined over a stranger, no matter how much import he was supposed to be afforded on your part.

But you needed to be sure you were on the same page with this.

A single slip, a careless comment could bring everything crashing down around you.

Which brought you back to your original thought.

Communication.

Whether he liked it or not, whether you could stand to look at him long enough to get the words out, there would have to be some fucking communication.