Ruin was rendered speechless by the empress’s glowering retort and adamant attitude. Staring intently at the projection next to him for a moment, his expression brightened as if he’d made a discovery. “My forearms are thicker!” he joyfully cried.
However, his happiness was cut short when Cecile viciously responded, “Yours are too thick for my liking. His Majesty’s arms are toned at just the right amount to be attractive. That’s why he looks so dashing in his formal suit, while you…” She wagged a finger and continued, “Your arms are so thick that the sleeves of your clothes look like they’re bursting at the seams. Having too much of something can be worse than having nothing at all.
She was being sincere in this regard, and wasn’t simply finding fault with Ruin. No matter how she sliced it, Estian was the better of the two—in height, body, and face.
Day after day, Cecile had watched her husband change into his clothes each morning before heading off to his duties from under the covers of their bed. Perhaps it was the result of being a swordsman, but his muscles were incredibly well-toned, though not excessively. It was such an artistically sculpted body, even more so than any of the statues scattered about the imperial palace. God knew how many times she’d wiped away drool while she snuck peeks in his direction. Even though she had touched that body to her heart’s content each night, it had never felt enough.
And once Estian had finished putting on his formal attire, he was practically a model that had stepped out of the photo spread. The garments that were perfectly tailored to him by the imperial craftsmen fitted him like a glove, drawing beautiful lines along his body. The various splendid decorations only further added to his majestic aura. Truly, he looked like the god of war incarnated.
Cecile would ogle him in a daze until her eyes were inevitably drawn to another part of him—the span from his slightly indented waist down to his buttocks. Oh, how she was transfixed by that beautiful curve! ‘I even ended up getting caught staring once.’ She’d been confident that Estian hadn’t noticed her peeking since he moved about naturally, but…
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“How long do you intend to steal looks like that?”
After finishing changing, Estian strode over to the bed. Bewildered from being called out, Cecile blurted, “I’m sleeping! I really am! Zzz, zzz…”
Estian smirked and said, “Really now? Then, surely my sleeping empress won’t know what I’m about to do.” The smile floating on his lips gave off a mischievous, yet dangerously erotic air.
“Wha-what are you—”
Cecile hadn’t been able to finish her question that day. From that point on, she hadn’t even managed to form a short sentence. Only moans and the occasional cries of Estian’s name could be heard. It wasn’t until a little while later that the emperor left the empress’s palace with a satisfied face. A few creases had formed in his perfectly ironed suit, but no attendant would’ve been gutsy enough to have commented on it. After he left, Cecile realized not taking it all off was about ten times more dangerous. It felt far lewder and more intense.
Recalling that memory, Cecile took another look at the illusion of Estian conjured by the blue phoenix and felt her tears well up. She remembered the strange fireballs that had been shooting at her husband. ‘Will he be okay?’
She’d been confident that Estian would deal with the fireballs in no time and immediately come for her, but so much time had elapsed and his voice was still nowhere to be heard. ‘Something must have happened.’ She felt her heart constrict at that thought. If something were to happen to Estian, then…
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