The Concubine Does Not Love the Emperor - Chapter 31

“Is your conscience at ease now?”

“Did you avoid the coffee because you knew it was drugged?”

At Suleiman’s words, Margaret’s face scrunches up. Almost inaudibly, she grumbles, 

“She’s just saying what she wants to say again, isn’t she?”

“It was you who’s asking for coffee, Altar brought it, and poured it into the cup—”

“It was me. Yeah, I get it. I know. But you…”

Suleiman steps boldly in front of her. Margaret instinctively raises her head, meeting the imposing gaze of the emperor. She wasn’t accustomed to looking up like this, shoulder to shoulder with most men. Perhaps that’s why a sense of rebellion surged within her against the gaze that looked down on her.

“Do you suspect me?”

“Because you’re not ordinary. What are you?”

The man’s large hand grabs Margaret’s shoulder. She reflexively brushes his hand away, then suddenly remembers he is the emperor. She lowers her eyes to conceal her defiant gaze.

“Some mastermind exposed themselves before committing suicide. Although the story was vague, based on my speculation, that person might be—”

“I know who it is.”

He knows? Margaret is surprised by the man’s response. She hasn’t said anything yet.

Wasn’t he asking because he doubted me?

Suleiman looks down at her with a face marked by fatigue. The hollows under his eyes seem deeper than before.

Then why?

Suleiman’s gaze scrutinizing her is different from mere questioning. It feels more personal and persistent. Not wanting to delve deeper, Margaret changes the topic.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?”

“Always in the past. Occasionally now.”

A bitter atmosphere lingered in his response. Margaret couldn’t even imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t been in the harem. However, the person in front of her wasn’t just an emperor; an image of a tyrant wielding absolute power and tormenting the weak was superimposed over him. Unexpectedly, a strong sense of empathy washed over her.

“It must have been tough.”

It was an offhand remark, but Suleiman’s lips tightened at her words. He turned his head in the opposite direction. Despite having a solid and imposing physique, he strangely felt fragile and small, like a child left alone. Margaret reached out and lightly brushed her hand against his back. In her perspective, it was a gesture of comfort, but he stiffened as if he had interpreted it differently.Suleiman’s neck turned slightly red, but it remained hidden in the darkness.

“You seem familiar with killing people.”

She, too, redirected the conversation. Unconsciously, Margaret politely responded to the emperor’s words.

“…If you mean in terms of proficiency, then yes. I have received specialized training in dealing with people. But if you mean whether I’ve done it a lot, not really. I did it because I had to.”

A gentle breeze blew. A few strands of Margaret’s hair sparkled silver under the moonlight. She tried to stare into the emperor’s eyes to discern his intentions, but the eyes she met revealed nothing in the pitch-black darkness. Somehow, she had a premonition that if she continued the conversation, she might naturally achieve her goal. She placed her hand on the man’s arm. The muscles under his skin seemed to twitch.

“Yeah. So, what are you?”

“I am…”

Before she could finish her answer, Margaret fell silent. Who are you? What are you? The intention behind the question confused her. As she hesitated in her response, thick and coarse fingers delved into her hair. Suleiman gently ruffled her hair. The seemingly insignificant gesture tickled somewhere below her belly button. Was the effect of the drug still lingering in her body? Her head tilted involuntarily. She took a deep breath, sniffing the air deeply, but besides the unique scent of a sultry summer night, she couldn’t detect anything. Suleiman silently awaited her response, and eventually, Margaret provided the answer he wanted.

“I am Kadima.”

Suleiman let out a faint chuckle. Whether it was the correct answer or not, the man’s fingers slowly caressed her neck. Wherever his touch landed, warmth blossomed like opening petals. However, Margaret couldn’t let this opportunity slip by. Swiftly, she added to achieve her goal before the atmosphere thickened further.

“Prince Mustafa dedicated me to Your Majesty.”

Suleiman’s lips curved into a sly smile. The man’s fingers, now tracing her neck at a deliberate pace, were hot. But Margaret couldn’t ignore the increasing tension between them. The rigid posture of the man-made her uneasy.

‘Did I do something wrong? Does he still mistake me for Leyla? Why is he asking these strange questions?’

The hand that had been gently caressing Margaret’s neck suddenly gripped it. The man’s hand was large enough to encompass it fully. Though her touch had been gentle, the atmosphere between them began to tense gradually. Suleiman’s authoritative voice broke the silence.

“Ask again. What are you?”

The voice sank a little deeper. Suleiman roughly pulled the woman’s waist closer, pressing her against him. Margaret instinctively tightened her fist and then released it. Blaming herself for misreading the atmosphere, she chose her words carefully this time.

“I am Margaret.”

“Alright.”

“I come from the Kingdom of Berte.”

“Ha! I’ve heard of it. Wasn’t it a small kingdom in the north?”

It was a mocking tone, perhaps even a provocation. Margaret deliberately took a deep breath to prevent herself from getting angry. The man’s face drew closer.

“Go on.”

Perhaps this was also an opportunity. Margaret tried to think positively. Suleiman seemed vulnerable, and the air was tense, but it didn’t matter. The stage was set for her to open up. Margaret politely shared her story, careful not to offend the emperor’s mood.

“I used to be a knight, but I was sold as a slave to the empire.”

“You don’t seem like someone who would be captured as a slave.”

“Anyone can be captured if caught off guard. I’ve been stabbed with a sword. Well, that’s an excuse. I just let my guard down.”

In the skeptical gaze of the man, Margaret freed herself from the hand that had been gripping her neck. She then removed her cloak. Under the moonlight, her body was revealed vividly. A scent of dried blood lingered, mixed with a pleasant and fragrant aroma. She took the man’s hand and placed it on her abdomen, revealing the scars. It seemed more convincing to show than to explain.

The frozen atmosphere thawed. Suleiman slowly knelt and examined her wounds. Margaret was surprised, but she remained still, allowing the man to thoroughly inspect her body. As the tension eased, the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves became more audible. Suleiman hadn’t spoken a word yet. Eventually, Margaret opened her eyes, awaiting the man’s words.

“Prince Mustafa bought me from the slave market. And—!”

Touch.

The scars felt hot as if they were burning. Margaret tried to step back in shock, but Suleiman had already firmly held onto her. Once again, the man gently kissed her scars.

“I guess I understand why Mohu gave you the name Huram. Consistent sadomasochism.”

The man’s lips, speaking these words, seemed to tease her skin without actually touching it. What was he doing? As she attempted to struggle, Suleiman kissed her scars again.

“Continue. You have something to say, don’t you?”

It hit the mark. She couldn’t close her eyes or open them. Closing her eyes intensified the sensation of Suleiman licking her, and opening them revealed scenes too peculiar to describe. In the end, Margaret cast her gaze beyond the darkness, trying to control her breathing. She didn’t want to provoke the man by making unnecessary sounds.

“Before being sent to Your Majesty, huut.”

A tingling sensation ran down her spine. Unbeknownst to her, Suleiman had been biting the soft flesh inside her thigh. Regret washed over her determination. The man’s touch on her inner thigh, as he sucked gently, elicited submissive moans every time.

Margaret staggered backward, swaying unsteadily. Suleiman, like a predatory beast closing in on its prey, silently observed her retreat. After a few steps back, she found herself blocked by a waist-high railing. Unless she jumped down, there was nowhere else to retreat. Below the railing, a pond with unknown depth gaped ominously.

Approaching silently, Suleiman seized both of her legs without a sound.

“Why did Mustafa send you?” he asked.

Somehow, his words sounded like an invitation to spread her legs. If she revealed why the prince had sent her, her mission would be over. After that, she just had to convey whatever message she heard, no matter what it was.

“Why don’t you speak?” he pressed.

Breathing became difficult. Her heart started pounding violently again. What would happen if she spread her legs like he seemed to want? She knew the answer, but she dismissed the thought that kept surfacing in her mind. Suleiman wasn’t patient.

Ah!

His tongue touched her, over the thin fabric of her undergarments.