Ian pinned a yellow rose, bright as a chick, into his pocket square.
Against his black formal uniform, the flower stood out even more vividly.
Having finished preparing for the ball, Ian pulled the box from beneath the sofa. He glanced at Kwon Minseong, silently asking for permission to open it.
Kwon Minseong nodded.
Ian lifted the lid and inspected the Emperor's gift once more.
Inside was the crimson uniform crafted stitch by stitch by the Imperial Palace's master tailor. Attached to it was a pearlescent corset that shimmered with rainbow hues.
The box also contained black leather shoes, a gold bracelet, and a felt pouch filled with rings adorned with every conceivable gemstone—rubies, sapphires, emeralds, topazes, and more.
It was the sort of gift that would make the nobles of Elunem collapse with envy.
Ian looked over everything with detached eyes before closing the box again.
He did not know exactly how Kwon Minseong felt about the Emperor.
But one thing was certain.
The Emperor did not love Kwon Minseong.
The Imperial Ball, held for the first time in seven years, came to a successful conclusion.
The nobles who had enjoyed themselves within the palace and the commoners celebrating the Spring Festival beyond its walls did not return home until deep into the night.
As the entire city slept beneath the lingering excitement of the festivities, Imperial ministers began arriving one after another at the Grand Council Chamber.
They lined the conference table, bowing their heads to conceal yawns and suppress hangovers.
The reason they had been summoned back to work only two hours after the ball ended was simple.
The Emperor of the Elunem Empire had scheduled a meeting at six in the morning.
The ministers had spent the night drinking themselves senseless.
No sooner had they returned home than an Imperial order demanded their immediate presence.
Most had not even managed to wash before running back to the palace.
As a result, the council chamber reeked of alcohol and sweat.
Who schedules a meeting the morning after a ball?
If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have attended.
I'm dying...
The ministers clutched their heads and silently cursed their Emperor.
Unfortunately, the Emperor was entirely unaware of their resentment.
Tillio stared out the window with bloodshot eyes.
A squirrel darted across a garden filled with blooming blue flowers.
Its round eyes and plump cheeks reminded him of Kwon Minseong.
That damned quack who had never shown up.
Not even when the palace gates finally closed.
"I have a question for all of you."
The Emperor spoke without taking his eyes off the squirrel.
The ministers, who had been pretending to bow while half asleep, pinched their thighs and forced themselves awake.
Right. There must be a reason he called us here.
It has to be important.
He recently returned from an expedition. Maybe he learned something significant.
Surely that's it.
If he had dragged everyone here this urgently, it had to be a matter of national importance.
It absolutely had to be.
"As you all know, there is an Omega I have chosen as my future Empress. I proposed properly according to custom. I even held a ball for that Omega. I sent clothes made by the Imperial tailor and precious jewels."
Tillio clenched his fist as he watched the squirrel's fluffy tail disappear into the distance.
The more he thought about it, the more infuriating it became.
"Yet that Omega did not spare any of it a second glance."
The ministers exchanged uneasy looks.
"I summoned you here today because of this matter."
Leaving aside the issue of producing Imperial heirs, the Emperor constantly roamed the border regions. If he married, he would presumably spend more time at the palace.
It was undoubtedly an important topic.
The ministers listened intently.
"How does one propose?"
Every minister instantly looked as though their soul had left their body.
Had there ever been a moment in life when they had wanted to resign so desperately?
In a thousand years of Elunem's history, not a single Emperor had ever been rejected.
As a result, the ministers had no answer.
The Emperor had personally proposed.
He had held a grand ball.
He had gifted clothing and jewels.
What better ideas could possibly exist?
And even if they did, the ministers who had been drinking until four in the morning were in no condition to think of them.
"Some people serenade their beloved."
Yet an Imperial command was absolute.
The ministers squeezed their exhausted brains and contributed suggestions one by one.
"I once sent a portrait."
"Perhaps Your Majesty could compose a poem personally."
"It would be even better if dried flowers accompanied it."
"Are you just piling onto my suggestion?"
"As if your idea was anything special."
"If it isn't special, why don't you go first?"
Screeeeeech.
Tillio dragged his mechanical finger across the table.
The grating sound instantly silenced everyone.
Then he looked toward the elderly count seated at the far end.
"Count Hermut."
No response came.
The ministers followed the Emperor's gaze.
The white-haired count was dozing peacefully in the corner.
"Count Hermut!"
"Cough—eh? Y-Your Majesty!"
"How did you propose?"
"Hmm... propose, did you say...?"
Count Hermut blinked slowly.
The ministers exchanged helpless looks.
Of all people, why ask Count Hermut?
The man was ninety-three years old.
Half the time he could not remember whether he had eaten bread or his shoe for breakfast.
Asking him about something that happened seventy years ago seemed like a colossal waste of time.
An ominous feeling crept down the ministers' spines.
We're never getting off work.
"Um... carriages still exist, don't they?"
There it was.
They were discussing poetry, music, and flowers, and suddenly he was talking about carriages.
The dark circles beneath the ministers' eyes deepened.
"They still do."
"That's a relief... these days, the world changes every time I open my eyes... hoho..."
The old count rubbed at the wrinkles around his eyes and continued.
"First, prepare balloons. Place dried flower petals and a rolled-up poem inside them. That's the preparation complete. Naturally, Your Majesty already knows that the petals should come from your beloved's birth flower."
The old count continued without pause.
"When inflating the balloons, use a flower called Desrophil. The gas produced while drying the flower should fill most of the balloons, though one balloon must be inflated by your own breath. You will need enough balloons to fill an entire carriage."
The room fell silent.
"Then take the carriage to your beloved's home. At that point, only one step remains. Open the carriage door and all the balloons filled with Desrophil gas will rise into the sky at once. Only one balloon will remain behind. Present that balloon to your beloved and..."
The ministers stared.
The proposal story flowed from him as smoothly as if he had rehearsed it yesterday.
That old man had done something so romantic?
More importantly, he remembered every detail from seventy years ago?
For the first time all morning, every minister listened with complete attention.
Then, at the most important moment, Count Hermut's head drooped forward.
A loud snore escaped him.
The ministers collectively groaned.
"What happened next?"
"What exactly did you say when you proposed?"
"You can't stop there! My entire day is ruined!"
Unlike the lamenting ministers, Tillio remained expressionless.
The Emperor sat in thought, tapping the table with his mechanical index finger.
A carriage full of balloons...
"That sounds like too much work."
No matter how hard he tried to put sincerity into it, there were limits to how much sincerity he could fake.
The ball had ended, but Elunem continued buzzing with excitement.
And Kwon Minseong's hospital remained the hottest topic in high society.
Though his first and second proposals had been rejected, the Emperor refused to give up.
Only two days after the ball, an Imperial messenger arrived at the hospital once again.
The third proposal was neither flowers nor clothing.
From early morning, the Imperial Orchestra assembled before the hospital gates and performed love songs.
Automated mechanical dolls belonging to the Imperial Family sang serenades beneath Kwon Minseong's window, pleading for him to accept the Emperor's proposal.
The people of Elunem smiled warmly at the Emperor's obvious devotion.
Yet Kwon Minseong's window never opened.
Not when the sun set.
Not when the stars appeared.
The day after the third proposal failed, an Imperial painter arrived.
Surprisingly, Kwon Minseong did not throw him out.
Instead, he arranged a workspace in one corner of the garden.
Then he instructed the painter to create portraits of the hospital's patients.
Leaving an Imperial painter, dispatched under direct Imperial orders, sitting in a garden was practically an insult to the Imperial Family.
Many people were horrified.
Ordinarily, such disrespect would be enough to earn a trip to the dungeon.
But artists were artists.
As was often the case, the Imperial painter possessed a strange world of his own that ordinary people could never understand.
He happily accepted Kwon Minseong's suggestion.
That evening he completed a new work titled The Burden of Life—a portrait depicting a pregnant patient suffering from morning sickness while an attendant held back their hair.
Afterward, he returned to the palace.
And so Tillio's fourth proposal also ended in failure.
But Tillio did not stop.
Like a truck with failed brakes, he continued charging forward.
For his fifth proposal, he sent a love poem written by the greatest poet in the Empire.