The next morning, Elara felt a slight ache in her muscles. It was frustrating; even though she was the one in control during the night, her royal body was still physically weak. It was a poorly optimized vessel for someone with her drive. She was sitting by the window when a knock sounded at the door.

She didn’t answer. She knew it wasn’t one of the beast knights—she had already memorized the heavy, disciplined thud of their boots. This footstep was lighter, more graceful, and carried the weight of someone used to walking on silk carpets.

The door creaked open, and the Emperor stepped inside. He wore a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his tired eyes. "What, sister? Not even going to invite me in?"

Elara didn’t look up from her book. "I am already a captive, and you are asking for permission? You really are a generous Emperor."

His smile faded just a little, and he shook his head. "Emperor, huh? Yeah, I suppose I am." He gestured toward the empty chair across from her. "Can I sit?"

Elara remained silent, which was as much permission as he was going to get. He sat down slowly, his eyes landing on the book in her lap—the same one she had been reading by candlelight while Mahir was bound to her desk.

"What are you reading?" he asked, trying to find a thread of conversation.

"The Return After Death," Elara replied shortly.

He tilted his head, curious. "How is it? Is it any good?"

Elara finally looked at him, her gaze flat. "It’s garbage. The writing style is all wrong, the tone is far too intense, and the emotions are so prominent they become a distraction."

The Emperor let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Just like us, right? Our story is a total piece of garbage, too."

"What do you want?" Elara cut through the small talk. "I don’t think you came here to reminisce about the past. I don’t have many memories of it that I care to keep, anyway."

He leaned back, looking older than his years. "Right now, in this palace, only you and I are left of the imperial bloodline. No one else."

Elara raised an eyebrow. "If I’m not wrong, only the sisters who fought for the throne died. The weaker ones should still be around."

"They’ve been dealt with," he said quietly. "Arranged marriages, or they simply ran away in the chaos. To tell you the truth, it’s just us." He turned his gaze to the window, looking out at the sprawling capital he now ruled. "I never wanted to be the Emperor. I never believed it would actually happen."

Elara didn’t offer any comfort. She just looked back at her book, waiting for him to get to the point.

"You know," he continued, his voice trailing off, "I always thought *you* would be the one. The way you handled the Regency... you were a natural. And then one day, you just vanished. I couldn’t understand why back then. But now, looking at this crown... I do. Being the Emperor is nothing but bad luck."

Elara flipped a page, her expression unreadable.

The Emperor let out a soft, hollow chuckle at her coldness. "It’s comical, isn’t it? You are the Fourth Princess, and I was the Fourth Prince. Both of us were ignored by our father for years. It’s almost like the number four is a curse in this family."

Elara finally looked up from the page, her eyes as sharp as glass. "What are you here for, Your Majesty?"

The word *Majesty* seemed to stick in his throat. He looked away, his composure cracking just a little. "I never thought the Beast Knights would rebel like this," he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I am worried, sister. The palace feels like a cage, and the guards... they don’t look at me the way they look at you."

Elara didn’t even blink. "I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in babying anyone. I’ve always been bad with children, so I don’t think I’m the right person to comfort you. You should find someone else for that."

The Emperor burst into a sudden, genuine laugh. "I’m not here for that! I know you’d never baby me. But I want to ask you something important. How do I control them? How do I make them listen to me instead of just following their own instincts?"

For the first time since the conversation began, Elara closed her book. She set it down on the table with a firm click and leaned forward, her gaze pinning him to his seat.

"Do you want to know what’s truly funny about all this?" she asked. "It’s that you are the Emperor. You have the crown, the power, and the title, yet you are terrified of a few knights who think I’m more powerful than you. No one in this world is truly strong, brother. Everyone has an opponent who is stronger than them."

She leaned in closer, her voice turning into a cold, hard truth. "You sit here and tell me you don’t want to be the Emperor, that it’s all ’bad luck.’ But the truth is, from the moment you touched that throne, you wanted it more than anything. If you really didn’t want it, you wouldn’t be sitting there. The Beast Knights didn’t force you onto the seat."

She paused, letting her words sink in. "You supported them bringing me here. You played along with this kidnapping. And it wasn’t because you felt pity for me or wanted to see your sister. It’s because you know that without me, you can’t handle this empire. You wanted me here so I could do the work for you, so I could be the brain while you wear the crown."

The Emperor went silent, his face pale under the candlelight. He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.

"You’re right," he whispered. "I can’t do it alone."

The Emperor’s face went pale, the soft light of the morning making him look more like a ghost than a king. He stared at Elara as if he were seeing her for the first time—not as a sister, but as a force of nature that he had foolishly tried to trap.

"Elara, I—" he started, but she cut him off with a voice that was as sharp as a razor.

"Then why do you think that even the beast knights, who are bound by collars and contracts, would not follow your orders blindly, but I would do it?" she asked. Her eyes didn’t move from his face, pinning him like a specimen. "Do you really think I am some weak girl who would just sit here and listen to all your nonsense? If you really wanted to become an emperor that everyone follows, then actually do something for the people. Do something for this empire."

She leaned forward, her presence filling the room until it felt like the walls were closing in on him.

"You are called the father of this empire, but not because of a throne. It wasn’t given to you just so you could sit there and watch dancers, or take the money people worked so hard for and throw it away on gambling and nonsense. You aren’t a king; you’re a child playing with a crown that’s too heavy for your head."

The Emperor trembled, his hands clutching the arms of his chair. "I... I am doing my best."

"Your best is an insult to the office," Elara replied coldly. She let a small, dark silence hang between them before she dropped the final blow. "Tell me... the previous emperor. Do you know how he really died?"