I'm Not Kissing The Devil Twice

Chapter 8

I follow the butler, marveling at the opulent interior of the castle as he leads me to the dining hall. The empress had shown me to my room earlier, asking probing questions about my education, my family, and the work I have undertaken in my life. I already know that the empress values women who do not sit idly by while the men take all the credit, and if there is one thing I am confident in, it is my diligence and capability.

I had honestly shared everything I had accomplished, subtly indicating that my useless father had often taken the credit for my efforts. As a clever and perceptive woman, I know the empress understood me well. She had then asked if there was any maid from my father's household that I would like to summon, but I had immediately declined.

The empress had then promised to appoint a capable maid to assist me, and soon after, three random maids arrived to help arrange my belongings for my temporary stay and prepare me for dinner. We finally reach the dining room, and I curtsy with utmost respect to the emperor and empress, determined not to repeat my earlier lapse in etiquette.

As I rise, I catch the empress's gaze, and I am struck by the warmth and intensity of her eyes as they roam over my body. She had personally selected the silver silk dress I am wearing, with its delicate white embroidered patterns. The gown flows gracefully to my feet, the first half of the skirt slimmer than the other, hugging my curves in a way that is both flattering and slightly embarrassing for a woman of my stature. Yet, I cannot bring myself to turn down this gift from the empress.

As the empress's warm smile transforms into a mischievous smirk, she turns her gaze to the chair where my scammer husband, Kyro, is seated. "As expected, the dress suits you perfectly. Don't you think so, Kyro?" Anilia asks, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

My expression hardens as I turn to glare at Kyro, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and fury. Why is my heart racing in this way? It should be thundering with righteous anger, not this strange fluttering sensation.

To my utter bewilderment, I notice Kyro's face flush a deep, rosy pink, from one cheek across his nose to the other. His lips are slightly parted, and his eyes are shimmering with what appears to be tears. I recognize that look all too well-I've seen it on the faces of men captivated by my presence. But surely, that cannot be the case here. Kyro, captivated by me? The very idea is absurd.

And yet, my mind and heart refuse to heed reason. I find myself blushing with a strange, unwarranted embarrassment, and I instinctively bring my hand up to shyly play with a stray lock of my hair.

Anilia and the emperor break into laughter, as if they have been eagerly awaiting this very reaction. I stare at them sheepishly, unsure of what to make of the situation. Anilia then gives her husband a playful smack on the shoulder, throwing her head back and laughing even more raucously-a display that seems rather unbecoming of an empress.

"You're right, darling, this is entertainment at its finest. This version of him is truly priceless!" she exclaims, her laughter punctuated by the rhythmic tapping of her hand against the table. Utterly perplexed, I quietly take my seat, my mind racing to make sense of the strange scene unfolding before me.

My mind wanders to the reason for the drama-my appearance. I couldn't help but marvel at the intricate braid they had woven, cascading over my shoulder in a way I had never experienced before. This was a stark departure from the simple, plain hairstyles I had been resigned to at my father's manor, where Emiliana's preferences had dictated that no real effort be put into my appearance.

I had never been allowed to wear my hair down or accessorize it, nor had I been permitted to adorn my face with makeup, beyond the bare minimum. Even when attending social gatherings, I had been strictly limited in my use of perfumes, jewelry, and gowns. It was as if I had been little more than a slave.

The realization that it had taken the possibility of my demise for me to truly recognize the extent of my captivity was a depressing one, and I had to blink back the tears that threatened to resurface.

It was then that Kai's voice broke into my turbulent thoughts. "Um... Lee?" he began, his gaze averted from my face, his cheeks still flushed with a curious tint. "You look really beautiful in that dress, and your h-h-hair-"

"Boo!" The emperor's sudden, childlike outburst startled me, interrupting Kai's stammering compliment. "Precious, you can do better than that," the emperor chided, turning to his wife with an expectant look. "Try something between the lines of...?"

Anilia clears her throat and then purposefully deepens her voice by a few octaves. "Sweetheart, you look breathtakingly gorgeous. That dress does not do you justice," she declares, her voice laced with a suggestive lilt as she nears the end of her recital. "The only place it deserves to be is on my bedroom floor," she finishes, her words punctuated by a burst of laughter.

"Darling, you are a genius," the emperor responds slowly, exaggerating each word with a salacious grin. The two of them then share a high-five, breaking into laughter once more, while I can only stare at them with a combination of utter confusion and growing amazement.

Suddenly, Kai slams his fists down on the table, causing the utensils to clatter and me to flinch. He glares at the imperial couple with a look of bitter contempt, his face flushed with what appears to be not just embarrassment, but something deeper-a potent mix of anger and, perhaps, even a hint of possessiveness.

"Will the two of you stop enjoying yourselves at my expense?!" Kai practically roars, his voice laced with a palpable malice that I had not anticipated. Well, I can't predict anything going on right now.

Anilia and Kaiser, the emperor, share a brief, loaded glance before turning their attention back to the visibly angered Kyro. Then, to my utter astonishment, they beam brightly, their radiant smiles practically blinding me with the sheer intensity of their angelic beauty.

"No," they respond in perfect unison, their voices dripping with saccharine sweetness. The imperial couple stare at each other once more, erupting into another round of unrestrained laughter.

I find myself struck with a growing sense of shock, for this playful, almost juvenile display is a far cry from the intimidating, imposing presence I had grown accustomed to in both my past life and the present. It dawns on me that Kyro must not have divulged the true nature of our relationship to them, leading to this seemingly misguided assumption on their part.

But more than that, I find myself questioning whether the emperor and empress have always been, in some sense, "sick in the head." Where has their meticulously cultivated image of perfection and propriety gone?