Empress Handbook

Chapter Twenty-Four | Shadow Lines

You have arrived in London, England. The local time is 8:15 AM. The robotic voice blasts through the airport, bringing a floating sense of order to the bustling crowd. Yeoreum struts through the VIP exit with a small team of Imperial Guards and Imperial Servants following behind in a defensive position.

"Your Majesty, I am going to inform you about your schedule. The party starts at eleven a.m. You will arrive at Oriental Park Hotel first to change into the party outfit His Majesty picked before heading to the party on time. Optimally, you would stay at the party for two hours. You will be staying at His Majesty's property at Knightsbridge during this trip," Nara says, her tone growing hesitant as she reaches the topic of Jungkook. "You can head there after the party to refresh before attending Prince Jungkook's appointment if you wish, Your Majesty."

"What about Jungkook worries you?" Yeoreum frowns.

Nara lowers her head. "His Highness wants you to meet him without the company of any Imperial Servants."

"Is he crazy?" Yeoreum snaps.

"But His Highness also added that you are allowed to bring your most trusted Imperial Guard."

"Fine," Yeoreum says, clenching her teeth. "Tell Jeon Jungkook I will obey his rules."

When Yeoreum arrives at the hotel suite, Nara and Seohyun rush to apply her makeup and change her into a pink cape gown Taehyung prepared. Yeoreum wants to complain, but the team's hasty motion prevents her from having a glimpse of a moment to protest against her outfit.

"What the fuck is this bow?" Yeoreum snaps as soon as she returns to the car. She tugs at the big pink bow around her waist with a deep frown. "And why the fuck is it pink? Am I twelve?"

Nara's face grows tense at her iPad. She bows, pursing her lips.

"His Majesty said you should wear things that suit your age and that this bow is not pink but technically mauve. His Majesty added that this gown is crafted from an Italian cotton blend, making the high-low hem with a voluminous train more sumptuous."

"Kim Taehyung can choke on the Italian cotton blend and shove the voluminous train up his own ass," Yeoreum snarls.

Nara gulps. "His Majesty expected you to say that, Your Majesty. And...."

"And what?"

Nara's face flushes red. "His Majesty said, and I quote: if you're into choking him and shoving things up his—'"

"Okay, that's enough," Yeoreum says. She clears her throat to calm the warmth on his cheeks. "Tell Kim Taehyung I will be making his noose out of this dumb dress."

Yeoreum reaches the British Royal Palace with an anxious heart. It is not an official state visit but a private party for the high society to network. Yet, Yeoreum can't help but feel intimidated by the formidable gold-trimmed door that towers over her with silent intimidation.

Yeoreum shuffles through a large crowd to reach the macaroon tower, not to grab a sweet treat but to approach a kind-looking Caucasian woman.

"Excuse me, could you please pass me some sugar?" Yeoreum says with a tender smile.

The Caucasian woman gazes at Yeoreum for a short moment before shifting to the side to make space for Yeoreum to join the small circle of Noble Ladies. She smiles.

"Yes, of course, Your Majesty," the woman says. "The coffee is a little bitter today, isn't it?"

Surprisingly, Yeoreum stays thirty minutes longer than she expects. As soon as Yeoreum reaches the two-story house Taehyung arranged, she takes a quick shower and plummets onto the bed.