[Divorce? Why?]

The mole tilted its head, clearly puzzled.

Having spent enough time with Laniakea, the mole had become reasonably familiar with human customs. It understood that marriage was a promise between a man and a woman to live together. While the man named Hypherion didn’t live with Laniakea, the mole had grasped that human lives were often complicated. Still, it had appreciated Hypherion’s absence—it meant more time for the spirits to be summoned.

[Isn’t marriage a promise to stay together until death?]

“Hmm… not always. Humans often end those promises for various reasons. In this case, His Highness will definitely ask me for a divorce soon.”

As soon as she returned to her annex and calmed down, Laniakea had felt it in her gut.

He’s going to ask for a divorce.

The image of Hypherion at the funeral was still vivid in her mind.

Even as the funeral unfolded, no one had initially thought of him as a successor. Despite being the Emperor’s only surviving child, Hypherion had been dismissed for so long that people didn’t consider him.

But that changed the moment they saw him.

It wasn’t just that he was tall or broad-shouldered. The imposing presence Laniakea had noticed when they first met had grown exponentially in the past three years.

It was undeniable—Hypherion exuded the aura of someone born to rule.

Sooner or later, the factions loyal to the Empress would have no choice but to bow to him.

But that’s just the beginning.

Hypherion had no base of power in the palace. Even as emperor, it would be difficult for him to govern as he wished without allies. He would need to build support quickly.

The best way to do that is through marriage.

Despite the Empress’s dominance, there had always been factions that opposed her. Influential groups within the Imperial Academy and the temple had argued that, according to royal law, Hypherion should have been the crown prince.

Though the Empress had tried to purge these dissenters, the ageing Emperor had been reluctant to touch the old guard, allowing them to remain.

And remain they did, occupying decent positions in the palace.

He’ll definitely seek to strengthen ties with them.

But shaking hands and sharing meals wouldn’t be enough to secure their loyalty. Throughout history, one method had always been effective for solidifying alliances—marriage.

Laniakea didn’t know how many eligible daughters there were among the families supporting Hypherion, but there was undoubtedly at least one who could be presented as the next empress.

She’ll become the Empress.

Laniakea sighed softly at the thought.

“I should go back now. And you—don’t come out unless I call for you. Understand?”

[Hmph.]

The mole’s whiskers drooped in disappointment, but Laniakea showed no intention of consoling it. If it had been discovered, the consequences would have been catastrophic.

“Go on.”

With a reluctant wave of its paw, the mole burrowed back into the ground. Laniakea pressed her foot against the disturbed earth to flatten it before returning to her room.

She walked straight to her desk and opened a drawer. Reaching deep inside, she retrieved what she was looking for—a thick document bearing the title Marriage Contract.

“It’s been a while.”

She hadn’t looked at it much since coming to the annex. With no husband around, there hadn’t been much reason to.

Flipping through the contract, Laniakea paused at a section halfway through.

“Here it is—terms for division of assets upon divorce.”

It was said that royal and noble marriage contracts were often highly detailed in this area. But in her case, the terms were remarkably brief.

“There’s almost nothing here.”

She murmured as she read through the section. It was indeed bare-bones:

“In the event of a divorce, all imperial gifts must be relinquished, including titles and estates. The royal family will provide an escort back to the spouse’s homeland.”

At least her maintenance allowance wouldn’t be taken away, but that was the only consolation.

Laniakea had made some efforts to grow her modest funds, but the Empress’s spies throughout the annex had made any meaningful manoeuvres nearly impossible.

After rereading the section several times, Laniakea sighed and closed the contract, clenching her fists in determination.

“I’ll negotiate.”

There was no way she was going back to Friatra.

Of course, divorce didn’t necessarily mean she’d have to return.

I could stay in the Empire.

But that would require money, and her current savings weren’t enough to sustain a life here.

Laniakea closed her eyes and pictured the life she longed for.

“Let’s sign the divorce papers quickly,” Laniakea said with resolve.

“I don’t care whether it’s a son or daughter, but let’s have a child soon.”

The words overlapped.

The room plunged into silence. Laniakea froze, her mind racing to process what she had just heard. Hypherion’s expression shifted subtly, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to reconcile her words with his own.

“…Pardon?” Laniakea managed, breaking the silence.

Hypherion frowned, his deep blue eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean by ‘divorce papers’?”

“What do you mean by ‘let’s have a child’?” Laniakea shot back, incredulous.

The tension in the room thickened as the two stared at each other, their mutual misunderstanding hanging in the air like an uninvited guest.

Finally, Hypherion let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, as if this was an ordeal he hadn’t anticipated.

“I thought this would be easier,” he muttered, half to himself. Then, raising his gaze to meet hers, he continued, “I don’t intend to divorce you.”

“What?”

“I need you to stay as my wife,” he said firmly.

“But… why?” Laniakea blurted, her confusion mounting.

Hypherion’s face softened slightly, and for the first time since they had married, she saw something close to vulnerability in his eyes.

“As the future emperor, I need stability,” he began. “The nobles who supported my brothers are restless. The factions opposing the Empress are watching closely. They need to see that I’m… dependable.”

“And how does that involve me?” Laniakea’s voice was quiet but steady.

Hypherion looked at her, his piercing gaze steady and unwavering. “Because you’re already my wife. A divorce now would weaken my position. It would signal instability and indecision. Moreover…”

He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “You’ve shown yourself to be… trustworthy. You’ve lived quietly and without drawing attention to yourself. The opposing factions view you as neutral—untainted by palace intrigues. That makes you an asset.”

Laniakea blinked, her mind reeling. Neutral? An asset? Is that how he sees me?

“And the part about having a child?” she asked cautiously, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Hypherion straightened, his tone growing resolute. “An heir solidifies my claim to the throne. It would leave no room for doubt about the imperial lineage.”

Laniakea’s heart raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling within her. She had been so sure of his intentions—so prepared to leave the palace quietly. Now, this sudden shift left her unmoored.

“I…” she started, then faltered. “I don’t know what to say.”

Hypherion’s expression softened again, though his voice remained steady. “I’m not asking for an answer now. Think about it. But I do hope you’ll agree. It’s not just for me—it’s for the stability of the empire.”

Laniakea lowered her gaze, her thoughts a tangled mess. Staying in the palace, let alone having a child, was the last thing she had envisioned for herself.

And yet, the earnestness in Hypherion’s voice, the subtle vulnerability in his usually imposing presence, left her unable to refuse outright.

“Very well,” she said finally, her voice measured. “I’ll consider it.”

Hypherion nodded, his relief evident. “That’s all I ask for now.”

The tension in the room eased slightly, though Laniakea’s mind remained turbulent.

As she left the office, her steps felt heavier than before, her earlier vision of a simple, peaceful life slipping further from reach.