The Concubine Does Not Love the Emperor - Chapter 12

All the soldiers, including the guards, exited the audience chamber. In the awkward silence that hung in the air, the lady who had been tending to Margarite in the chamber brought a kettle and started brewing coffee on the hearth.

As the coffee began to bubble and boil on the hearth, the rich aroma of coffee spread throughout the room. Mustafa waited as Margarite took the first sip.

“I am to be sold to the king,” Margarite said.

“It’s not selling; it’s an offering to the emperor. A sacred duty,” Mustafa replied, slightly hesitating.

Margarite let out a chuckle and quickly sipped the coffee, letting the bitterness wash over her. As the bitter taste spread across her palate and coursed through her body, it strangely cleared her mind.

“Isn’t it essentially the same thing?” Margarite retorted.

The continued dismissive tone and disrespectful attitude from Margarite bothered the lady, who glared at her. However, Margarite paid her no mind. In terms of noble status, she held her own.

And really, in this diplomatic setting, was it necessary to bow and submit first when it wasn’t a formal affair? Above all, her captor didn’t seem to want to harm her. Despite tending to her injuries sustained during the skirmish and not restraining her or sending her to a cell, he had summoned the lady to serve her coffee. Margarite sensed that the young man had some expectations of her.

Negotiation favored the one who held the upper hand.

Mustafa lifted the cup gracefully, savored the aroma, and took a sip in silence. His purple-hued irises studied Margarite’s inner thoughts with a discerning gaze.

“I won’t beat around the bush. I found you for a reason. To offer you to the emperor,” Mustafa finally said.

“The tastes of Emperor Borman are quite unique,” Margarite mused.

“His tastes are irrelevant.”

The brewed coffee was poured into Margarite’s cup again from the hearth. As the steam rose gently from the freshly boiled coffee, Margarite this time didn’t drink it right away; instead, she looked at the lady. With a casual expression, the lady refilled her cup with water from the kettle.

“It might be better to provide more detailed explanations. Do you know about the harem system in Borman?” Mustafa inquired.

“I’ve heard of it. You confine women to the palace and select them at your leisure to satisfy your desires, and you called it “harem”.

The boy’s ears turned red. However, he soon realized that Margarite had intentionally thrown those provocative words at him.

“Most of the Emperor’s harem consists of war captives, but it’s not the same for the wives. According to the law, those with positions in the imperial family, regardless of rank, must offer their daughters to the Emperor. We call it ‘Kadima’,” Mustafa explained.

“Since when did you become my father? If we go by age, I should be the one who’s the mother instead,” Margarite quipped.

“If there are no daughters or if they are all married, then a female relative from the same clan or family can be sent as a substitute. I plan to send a member of my clan with my family’s seal to you.”

“Why me, of all people?”

“Because there’s no one else I can trust.”

It was a lonely and melancholic voice.

“Can I trust you?”

“I’ve heard that you were the cowherd of the Germain family, the royal couple’s bodyguard. Your bravery and devotion have gained you renown even across the sea in the empire. Of course, the fact that you’re a woman played a part as well.”

“You seem to have well-placed sources of information.”

She realized that the boy’s claim that he had searched for her for a long time was true.

“If you are not easily swayed by wealth, someone who will not hold family members, hostage, someone who keeps promises and understands honor and pride, and even if things go wrong, knows how to maintain silence, I believe you are the right person for this.”

It was a generous evaluation that she hadn’t received even in her homeland. Margarite subtly straightened her posture.

“What do you want from me? What can you offer?”

“Something you deeply desire. I will send you back to your homeland.”

Gold coins or land. If he had mentioned material possessions like these, she might have scoffed, but the boy precisely mentioned what Margarite wanted. It was an offer she couldn’t refuse.

She looked at the boy again, carefully studying him.

Mustafa, son of Devarn.

He was young, with a round face and almond-colored skin. His large eyes held determination, and his healthy lips were poised for proper speech. His posture, straight as if drawn with a ruler, revealed his character.

Yes, it was because of that direct stance. Even though he was young, she could sense a lofty grace about him. Margarite held her gaze unwaveringly and stood tall.

“What do you desire from me?”

“I want you to find out the Emperor’s true intentions.”

His long eyelashes trembled like a camel’s. The boy, who had been so nonchalant even when a blade was at his throat, now showed a flicker of fear.

Whether the Emperor, I mean Suleiman, plans to kill me or spare me,

His emotions faltered, and a heavy silence fell upon the room.

“If the Emperor intends to kill you, what would you do?”

“I would die.”

It wasn’t a hasty remark. The unwavering gaze of the boy revealed a determination that had been formed long ago.

“Living day by day, trembling with uncertainty about when I might die, has become unbearable. If my brother plans to kill me, I would rather use a silk cord to hang myself, without dirtying my hands.”

The lady next to him burst into tears. She took out a handkerchief and hurriedly wiped away her tears.

“What about me? What would happen to me if you died? Didn’t you just say you would send me back to my homeland?”

“You entered my family’s emblem. While it’s under the Emperor’s possession, if I die, I can leave the imperial palace for the funeral procession. I will make arrangements in advance for you to return to your homeland aboard our family’s ship.”

It was not a bad plan. Even without Mustafa’s preparation of a ship for her escape, with her clear status and wealth—gems and jewels—if she had those, it would undoubtedly be easier for her to escape on her own terms.

“Then consider another scenario. Alright. If the Emperor intends to keep you alive.”

“Then I…”

A faint glint of intensity appeared in Mustafa’s eyes. The boy clenched his fists, his emotions boiling over.

“I want to help my brother. It might not be appropriate for me to say this, but my brother never received proper Crown Prince education. Enemies are all around, with eyes wide open, waiting to exploit my brother and take advantage of him.”

“Are you not too young to be of any help?”

“Right. I am young. And because of that, I can be even more helpful. My brother’s adversaries will dismiss me as a child and won’t view me as a threat. The followers I have here, who have been by my side, will become my hands and feet, moving as I wish.”

Margarite slowly closed and opened her eyes. Klein’s image merged with the boy’s passionate image.

[For my master’s sake, I can do anything.]

Blind loyalty to one person. Or perhaps affection. The boy’s eyes resembled Klein’s.

“If it’s like that, as soon as I enter the imperial palace, I’ll take you out and send you back to your homeland. Our family has been engaged in maritime trade for generations, and we own several merchant ships. I can say that with confidence.”

It wasn’t a bad deal. Margarite lifted her cup. Instead of drinking the coffee that had cooled to a perfect temperature, she savored it sip by sip.

A strong bitterness washed over her palate, replacing the fleeting sensations with a deep, intense bitterness. It was both intense and rich.

Such fine coffee hadn’t been easy to find, even in Berthe. The Emperor’s intentions- He clung to this seemingly insignificant proposition as his last hope.

“Alright. Keep your promise.”

“Devarn. I swear in my mother’s family name that I will keep my promise.”

“Margarite, I swear in my name that I will also keep my promise.”

She used her own name instead of that of her father, who had never considered her important, and her ailing mother. She had only herself left.

After the negotiation was over, the lady brought in two girls.

The plump brown-haired girl introduced herself as Gulle, and the slim, pale girl introduced herself as Bahari.

“In the palace, trust no one. Even if the Prince dedicates a Kadima, a female offering, it won’t be a problem. These are my women. They will undoubtedly be of assistance.”

At the lady’s words, Gulle and Bahari smiled warmly. Their identical hazel eyes softened gently.

****

“The harem is a dangerous place. All sorts of tricks are at play. To meet the Emperor, you must first survive within its confines.”

Until the day they left the mansion, Mustafa continued to add words, never truly at ease. He said many things, but the conclusion was singular. She would survive.

With Klein’s gaze mirrored in his eyes, he told Margarite that he must survive with that same kind of determination. It left her feeling a bit stifled.

From the estate to the palace, it took about four hours by carriage. It was a short time, if you considered it short. The sisters never once stopped talking during the carriage ride, their conversation was a ceaseless stream of words.

If I had sisters, would it feel like this?

As an illegitimate child, she had never known such a feeling. She had treated Klein like a brother, but he had never touched her hair or her skin. As they drew closer to the capital, the sisters began talking about the harem, especially Gulle, who seemed very excited.

“The men who manage the harem have their genitals cut off. They’re called ‘Hwangan’.”

Observing Margarite’s expression, Gulle continued as if she found it amusing.

“I once saw it when I followed my father outside when I was young. They line up the young boys and apply a paste made from crushed back husks. Then they cleanly—”

“Enough. Let’s stop that story right there.”

The vivid description made her feel nauseous. Was it because she was raised to be a man? She could clearly sense the throbbing sensation in an area she was certain she didn’t possess.

“The Hwangan inside the harem wear pieces of severed flesh around their necks. If a part of their body is missing, they can’t enter paradise. Angels will expel them.”

When Gulle fell silent, Bahari began speaking.

“Borman’s angels are narrow-minded.”

“No, it’s not like that—Margarite’s angels, I mean.”

As the sisters became engrossed in their religious discussion, grabbing onto Margarite, the carriage had already arrived at the palace. When the coachman presented their identification, the grand gate swung open. Upon entering the palace, the first thing they were greeted by was a spacious square.

Merchants laid out their wares, children laughed and played around, and women wandered with their faces veiled. Near the fountain, a musician with a lute was performing. As they passed through the square, an arched door with pointed spires appeared. They were told that beyond this point were areas only for royals and authorized nobility to reside in.