TIS 1: Rewriting the Author's Second Death (English)

Chapter 7

The butler went ahead to let the emperor know what Samael said, and Samael quietly walked down the hall. He knew his way around the palace. Rosette quietly followed and kept her distance from us.

"Greetings to the heir of the sun of the Reburene empire!"

I caught a glimpse of those voices, and three old men had their heads down in our direction. They look like scholars.

Instead of greeting them back, Samael just passed them by. He wasn't much of a talker, even though he was inside the emperor's palace.

When we arrived in front of two large doors engraved with the symbol of the de Lovett family—a wolf with a sword and a shield—it opened, and one after another, men were coming out in a line.

They noticed Samael and gave way to him as they saluted him repeatedly.

Instead of checking out who they were, I felt Samael's hand on my nape and brought my forehead to rest on his shoulder.

"Hide your face," he whispered.

I just nodded. So, I could only see pure darkness instead of seeing where we were or who we were passing by. I could still hear the greetings towards him, and silence enveloped my surroundings after a few moments.

Samael's hand went down again from my nape towards my back.

"What reason do you have to request an audience from the emperor in the middle of a meeting with a threat from your words?" My system trembled at that baritone voice. I immediately turned around, and my eyes widened.

Oh, my God!

A man was sitting in front of the throne. His attire was formal, and many medals hung by his chest. He was wearing a blue uniform partnered with white slacks. He was wearing military boots, but it was not just ordinary footwear. It was definitely of the highest quality of leather that cannot even be compared to that of an ordinary knight.

His hair was luxuriously black like Samael's, and it was well-combed. His eyes were dim, and like Samael, they were a beautiful blue. And even without a crown resting on his head, I could not be mistaken about his identity.

He was the emperor. He was Renée—my father. It seemed so hard to believe, but it was true.

Aside from those, I could note that he was so young! He could be mistaken to be in his late twenties only! I know I wrote that the emperor was handsome, but to look like an attractive bachelor? What the heck?! Does that mean my brother, Samael, would be just as handsome as the Emperor when he grows up?

I gulped as my mind returned to the present time. I was not Charlotte who wrote the characters; I was Renée.

He was Astaroth de Lovett, the eighty-ninth emperor of the Reburene empire—the father of Samael and Renée.

I noticed the Emperor checking on me because of my long blonde hair while I remained wrapped in Samael's arms. As embarrassing as it was, I was sure he would not let me down. And before my eyes met the emperor, Samael spoke, which caused me to look at him and turn away from the emperor again.

"I ask for the answer to a question, Your Highness, Father."

"Is it so important to disrupt a meeting with the nobility?" The Emperor seemed to have no appetite at that instant because their meeting was disturbed. It was evident in his monotonous tone.

"I found this child in the Peridot Palace in the south. Is she . . . my sister?" he asked without hesitation. There was no fear nor hesitation in Samael's eyes, even when talking to the highest person in power and authority. Just like what I have written, he was only talking to his father, but he still respected the Emperor and not just anyone.