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I purposely took the time to finish the work late. Usually, Medea would have been awkwardly waiting in bed for him. Lyle sighed deeply. Spending the night with Medea was not easy.

Even during those moments, she had many demands, complaints, and resentment.

‘Why haven’t you depose me?’

Of course, there was a political issue. But Lyle knew how to politically maneuver around risks to get what he wanted.

It had neither to do with his ability nor to do with his power to do so.

The First Empress.

He must have been unable to do so because he thought of his mother, whom he had witnessed being tormented and poisoned by the eighteen other concubines.

‘I have a hunch that it’s going to be annoying.’

In front of the queen’s bedroom, maids and escort knights were standing by. When the maid-in-waiting saw Lyle, the Emperor, she bowed down.

“What about the Empress?”

When he asked with a dry voice, the maid-in-law bowed her head and said:

“She is in bed.”

You’re not sleeping first, are you?” It was possible when I thought of her running through the hallway. But isn’t she Medea? Lyle erased the thought that came to mind.

“I’m going in. Stay back.”

Lyle went into the room without noticing the attendants bowing. When the emperor entered the bedroom, the maids quietly closed the door.

The Empress’s bedroom was utterly calm and quiet. When the Emperor was coming, a few lanterns and candles were lit, and a faint light flowed.

Lyle walked straight to the bed and pulled open the curtains expecting Medea but the Empress was nowhere to be seen.

“Medea?”

There was no answer.

Could it be…. Is she hiding?

No, no, no…. she’s the Empress. There was no reason to hide from himself, her emperor, and husband.

“Medea!”

Lyle annoyingly called her name and felt his nerves on edge.

That alarm spread quickly. He started to check throughout the spacious bedroom; he was a Sword Master and was sensitive to instinct; he promptly turned around, ensuring no one was in the room.

He was dumbfounded. The Empress had ran away. To avoid sharing his bed.

Irritated, Lyle was inclined to go straight back to his bedroom, but he held it in.

His opponent was sick. The fact that Medea had amnesia in an accident from her suicidal attempt should not leak out.

Lyle opened the bedroom door and looked at the maid and escorts.

“The Empress is not in the room. She seems to be wandering somewhere… … bring her here quickly.”

“Yes?” The frightened maid-in-waiting squeaked, ready to make a thousand excuses.

Lyle was not interested and closed the door with a sharp *Bang!* He closed the door, went to bed, and plunged into it.

‘I have to wait for her… …’

He felt like a beggar.