The Concubine Does Not Love the Emperor - Chapter 30

After witnessing Mustafa safely navigate the garden and vanish into the night, Suleiman trailed behind Abraham.

“Now, listen carefully. You must never ask anything and do as Aldebaran says. That’s how you survive,” Abraham instructed, as if someone had been in his employ since the beginning. Did something happen to Suleiman’s mother? Or to Abraham’s brothers?

The surroundings were eerily silent and shrouded in darkness. Anxiety crept in as Suleiman feared Mustafa might have eluded them. Apprehension heightened when he noticed an unusual lack of activity for the not-so-late hour.

Abraham halted in front of the grand banquet hall, gesturing for Suleiman to open the door himself. A voice in his heart cautioned against it. It wasn’t his will guiding him; his legs carried him inside almost involuntarily, as if propelled by some unseen force.

The interior was pitch black. As the door creaked open, the sound of footsteps on water reached Suleiman’s ears. At the top of the banquet hall, Aldebaran stood, holding a candle. She was unmistakably Suleiman’s mother, a figure he hadn’t laid eyes on for a considerable period of time.

“Suleiman, welcome,” she said in a sweet voice that seemed foreign to his ears. “My son,” she added, a term he’d never heard from her before.

“Watch carefully,” Aldebaran whispered, closing the distance between them. She gripped Suleiman’s shoulder, and suddenly, the dim hall transformed into a surreal brightness. The floor beneath them was stained red, and a pungent smell of blood filled the air. In horror, Suleiman recoiled as Aldebaran seized his wrist. Together, they surveyed the horrifying scene before them.

His father, his first, second, and third brothers—whose faces remained unfamiliar—lay lifeless in a pool of blood. Other siblings, previously unknown to Suleiman, shared the same gruesome fate. The maids and eunuchs who served them were also among the casualties.

Blood flowed from every pore, creating an unrelenting torrent. It was a grotesque and cruel tableau unlike anything Suleiman had ever witnessed. Fear gripped him, and he struggled to comprehend the person standing before him. The instinct to flee surged within him, but he found himself rooted in place.

“Don’t run away. This is the weight of the emperor,” Aldebaran declared.

“Lie!” Suleiman protested, unable to fathom the horrifying truth unfolding before his eyes.

He raised his arm, attempting to shield his nose and mouth from the overpowering scent of blood that hung heavily in the air. Despite his efforts, the metallic odor persisted, and he couldn’t fathom where Aldebaran had summoned such courage.

“You tried to kill me too! You tried to kill me with Mustafa!” he accused, his voice trembling. Aldebaran’s expression contorted strangely, and before she could respond, the banquet hall door burst open, revealing Abraham.

“Didn’t I tell you not to talk back to Aldebaran?” he reprimanded sharply.

“Why did you kill my father? Why are you guys? Weren’t you trying to make one of your brothers the emperor?” he demanded, his confusion and anger bubbling to the surface.

“That’s right. It was like that. But I am also human, so I sometimes make mistakes. I heard they were going to bring Mustafa for dinner, but I never thought they would invite my sons.”

The revelation hit him like a physical blow. The older brothers she had raised with special care, unlike himself, were now gone. One of them should have inherited the throne.

“It is impossible to say that he is now an emperor. I am… I have lived to die so far,” Aldebaran confessed with a tone of resignation.

A sharp slap across his cheek jolted him. Strangely, he felt no pain. Aldebaran’s words continued, urging him to come to his senses. He was now the emperor, and she questioned if he was willing to bear the weight of this death.

“…It’s impossible. I can’t do it. I’d rather have Mustafa,” he muttered weakly.

Another slap, harder this time, brought a tingling pain. Aldebaran reiterated about becoming the emperor, but her words grew fragmented, drowned out by a crackling noise. Abraham’s features distorted, and the surroundings began to collapse.

“The weight of the emperor, emperor. The emperor.”

…..

“Your Majesty the Emperor.”

As he opened his eyes, Margaret’s hand jerked away. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed her wrist with impressive reflexes.

“Your Majesty, are you awake?” Margaret inquired, and he turned to see his hand suspended midair. She casually explained, “I only gave him first aid because he was suffering.”

Familiarity struck as he recognized the ceiling above. It was just a dream. Yet, the repulsive scent of blood lingered even after waking. He felt as if he were still trapped in that horrific banquet hall. Slowly regaining consciousness, he dismissed the nightmarish images, convinced it was all a terrible dream. Margaret supported him, acknowledging his dizziness.

“The coffee Your Majesty drank contained medicine.”

Margaret placed her hand on the emperor’s forehead, reassured to find no signs of fever. The man seized her hand and gently pressed it against his face. Suleiman rubbed his cheek against her hand, an oddly tender gesture. Margaret, feeling a sense of guilt for her earlier actions, silently caressed the emperor’s swollen cheek.

“Is it poison?” Suleiman inquired.

“No, I think it’s a sleeping pill. I heard you were sleeping very well,” Margaret replied.

“So you slapped me?”

“I’ll say it again, it’s just first aid.”

Margaret hadn’t acted out of selfish interest. The emperor grabbed her shoulders, shook her, and lightly slapped her cheek. Had he been allowed to sleep peacefully, he might have awakened naturally. However, the man suddenly broke into a cold sweat, and his body began to tremble. His limbs stiffened, creating a sense of urgency to wake him up quickly.

“It’s resistant to any poison, and it’s a sleeping pill. But I didn’t expect you to collapse so suddenly,” Margaret explained.

“The guards and eunuchs were all asleep. It looks like he took strong medicine.”

Suleiman, still recovering, stiffened and turned his head abruptly. Following his gaze, Margaret noticed a corpse at the end of her line of sight. Blood still flowed from the neck, forming a pool that spread down the back.

‘Ah, maybe this is why I had a nightmare.’

Suleiman surveyed the room, realizing that not just one but others also appeared lifeless, their bodies sprawled. A white silk string nearby hinted at what might have transpired.

“Did you do this?”

“It was force majeure.”

Margaret hastily offered her excuses, though they scarcely registered in his ears. She had dealt with her two eunuchs as they attempted to harm her. The relief that those two were now deceased flickered across her thoughts. Otherwise, she might have taken matters into her own hands.

Am I still crazy?

Suleiman stood up, acknowledging his recent erratic behavior. As he stumbled, weakened by his earlier ordeal, Margaret quickly approached and supported him. The gentle press of her breasts against his forearm went unnoticed by both, and he took a deep breath without realizing it.

“Cloak.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to put on a cloak and come?” Suleiman asked Margaret. She glanced at her clothes and nodded. As she retrieved her cloak and draped it over herself, Suleiman slowly approached, pulling the strings of her bed, but found no signs of anything amiss. Seating himself on the bed, he felt a wave of nausea.

“Are you okay, Your Majesty?” Margaret inquired as she came closer, having washed her face as promised. True to her word, she was now wearing her cloak. Suleiman, indicating for her to come closer, nodded. The man tightened the loosely tied straps of his own cloak.

“Could you please wake Altar up?” he requested.

A wrinkle formed between Margaret’s eyebrows. “Use the method you used on me.”

“Do you mind if I stay alone?” Suleiman asked, offering a light smile as he gently stroked her worried face. “Because I’m trying to be okay.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With a reluctant expression, Margaret turned around.

“Water when you come,” Suleiman added.

Without answering, Margaret lightly nodded her head, opened the bedroom door, and disappeared. Only then did Suleiman retreat to a corner and retch, his finger in his mouth. Across the room, the sound of slaps echoed as Margaret worked on waking up Altar.

By the time Suleiman had emptied his stomach, the slaps had ceased. The sour smell of vomit now mingled with the scent of blood in the room, and his empty stomach rumbled again.

“Your Majesty!” A moment later, Altar burst through the door, holding a bottle of water. Judging by his red and swollen cheeks, Margaret had successfully completed her task. Suleiman approached without hesitation, rinsed his mouth with the bottled water, and spat it out on the floor.

“Put it away until I get back.”

“Yes?” Altar acknowledged, ready to comply with the emperor’s instructions.

Altar looked around with burdened eyes, lowering his head helplessly, devoid of any veto power. Suleiman seized Margaret’s wrist, who stood quietly behind Altar.

“We’ll walk for a while.”

Obediently, she followed Suleiman out. Soft moonlight bathed the garden, casting a silver glow on the grass beneath their feet. A cold north wind cut through the muggy air, and the distant hum of insects filled the summer night. Hand in hand, Suleiman and Margaret strolled through the tranquil night.

They walked in silence for a while. As time passed, Suleiman’s clouded mind gradually cleared, and the strange heat that had transformed him into a beast dissipated. When he felt better, the man stopped in front of a pavilion overlooking a pond—a small structure surrounded by the serenity of the garden.

“Shall we rest here for a while?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Margaret replied politely, releasing his hand and moving forward. Before Suleiman ascended the stairs, she entered the dark pavilion.

“There’s no one.”

After scrutinizing their surroundings, she reported and extended her hand. Suleiman, somewhat absentmindedly, offered his hand. With the grace of an escort knight, Margaret guided him into the pavilion. Suleiman found himself dumbfounded, and a burst of laughter escaped his lips.