The thing about letting someone in is that there was no knowing where you would both end up. It was like a muddy grave in the rain; the unspoken corners of someone's life, and when you let them see one portion of it, it was almost like handing them a shovel. And if the person you were handing the shovel to was a tenacious sod like Arsenio Arcturus... well then.

I couldn't stop him from asking every mundane thing he could think of—every tiny detail of it. Is red still my favorite color? Why do I like black tea? What is my current favorite food? Why do I work so much?

And I was a fool—a proper one with the red nose and top hat—because I answered, and I even asked him questions in return.

When he answered one, I found branches stemming from them. Is black still his favorite color? Why has he practiced the sword so much recently? Does he still have nightmares? Has he been practicing the 5-4-3-2-1 method I showed him?

But Arsen—he listened so well. He listened as if my words were golden—perhaps some prophets he had been waiting all his days to hear. And in his eyes was tenderness; a concern that was so open, but for him was natural. This attentiveness was a part of who he was and that was—if I was honest—the most attractive feature about him.

He asked me during our long conversations if I had difficulty with my development project or if I needed help with it.

"Calypso, we're partners for life, aren't we? If you have a problem, what am I here for if not to solve it with you?"

I wasn't used to discussing my problems with anyone. Usually, I would just take it and try to solve it myself. Perhaps, it was one of the reasons I developed anger issues as of late. It was getting harder to control my emotions because I wasn't capable of solving them all by myself, yet my main consciousness wouldn't even recognize it as a problem someone would understand.

But it's different now, isn't it? I'm being asked.

It was such a simple thing and yet I was so surprised. I was deprived of this feeling for... how long?

And Arsen, he was so patient, and his reply was as sweet as honey. Undeserved, but perhaps that was why it was sweeter.

I suppose, I was holding a shovel as well—and that there were two graves.

So we dug. Two reckless people. Two graves.

It was almost morning already. The pale purple sky of dawn unmasked us. It was a day when I wished dawn would come a bit later, yet the schedule demanded an entrance, and so the sun rose all the same.

I pulled myself into a sitting position on his bed and put my head between my knees as I stared at him. He was thinner than he used to be, his cheeks hollowed and sunken, his skin pale—and even then he looked beautiful. Like a haunted painting. Like a demented hell—with his blazing red eyes and the restlessness that had settled there.

Then it suddenly kicked in. Maybe my masochistic side in my brain decided it was time to show up or was it just my defense mechanism? I just tended to fuck things up when I got too comfortable.

I did try to stop myself and think about something else. I really did try. Anything but let him know that there was a pathetic, jealous girl in my head who stomped her feet, trying to be a nuisance and not cooperating with reality.

That annoying girl wanted to know about Arsen's feelings for Phoebe. Again.

Which was silly, to be honest. Because why would I ask something that I already knew the answer to? And of course, I already knew the answer, alright? I did read the book after all.

To sum it up, this whole mess started when the nobles from Constantine's faction wanted Arsen to take a mistress in order to lessen my influence as empress because they felt threatened with the fact that I came from two powerful families in the empire.

To stop their plans, Arsen had given them a random list of attributes he supposedly wanted in a woman. Attributes that altogether would be almost impossible to find in any man or woman. Silver hair, pink eyes—a lady both noble and yet unassuming, who spoke with a gentle and soothing voice. The list went on with just the most arbitrary and rare things. Nonsense that he came up with so they would give up on their search.

Who would have thought that they would take it so seriously, right?

But of fucking course it turned out those rare, high attributes were found in Phoebe.

He wasn't lying when he told me that at first, it had just been a purely physical attraction. He was shocked and captivated at first sight that a girl like that did exist, but that was not really why he fell in love with her.

Since she caught his interest, he started to observe her carefully. So he knew how she tried to suit his tastes by eating foods he liked and playing his favorite piano pieces. But because he observed her a lot he also knew that she loved cheesecake and playing the harp more instead of piano and that she was trying so hard to suppress it.

Like the typical cliché in a romance novel, he fell in love with the real her, and her kindness and compassion—like that one time he caught her worrying about the horses. Like seriously? Who cares about a fucking horse? And things that were true to her and all that bullshit—not just the things taught by her uncle.

Hold it, hold it in, Calypso!

I bit my lips to stop the question that was dangerously edging at the tip of my tongue. He noticed it, though, and I wanted to curse him for being so attentive.

"You want to ask me something, don't you?"

"I don't." But my voice sounded too chipped and angry and not alright for it to be believable.

"Don't be stubborn. Just ask if there's something you want to know. I'll tell you anything, but you have to ask."

I was too tired to argue. "Fine. There is something I'm curious about."

"What is it?" He asked, drawing figures on my back with his fingertips.

I sank further into the gap between my knees. I wanted to know everything, but I settled on the one that had bugged me the most, the one that, maybe, was the most important of all. "Was she really that special?"

As soon as the question left my mouth, I regretted it immediately. I realized I just fucked up. Again.

Why does it feel like I'm digging my grave no matter what I do?

His fingers stopped in their tracks. I shivered as I felt his palm spread out on my back. I could feel the warmth seeping into me.

"Her?" He raised his brow.

"Don't play dumb! I know you know who I am talking about."

"Ah, yes. Phoebe," he said, her name melting on his lips like a sigh. "Phoebe. Phoebe."

The way he said her name brought an unpleasant knot in my stomach. The word rebound made an appearance in my head, but I pushed it away.

"I guess in some way, yes, she was. She was indeed special to me."

"Oh..."

"But it's not the kind of special that you might have in mind," he added. "She's special to me because she's pitiful. A doll; a puppet that was groomed and controlled by my uncle specifically for me. In more ways than one, she's kind of similar to me. So how could I not sympathize with her?"

What?

I was stunned for a second, trying to digest his words properly.

"Did you know that she tried so hard to match the nonsense I spouted to those nobles? It was just funny how hard she tried hard to earn my attention when she didn't even like doing it or even liked me in the first place, yet I found myself going back to her again and again even though I knew it was fake. Do you know why?" He grimaced and turned his face away to avoid my gaze.

"Just tell me already."

"Because... because it's fucking euphoric," he answered. "To have someone try so hard just to earn me, even if for the wrong reasons. It's foolish, I know. But at that time I just—I didn't care if she didn't love me. Hell, I didn't even trust her—but I loved that it was hurting her so much to earn me. No one's ever had to fucking earn me before, Calypso."

What the—

From the millions of reasons I could think of, none of them was this one.

I opened my mouth, preparing to argue, but when I saw the unmistakable depth of his gaze, suddenly anything I had thought to say felt inadequate.

He's right...

At first, I wanted to retort that I had worked hard to earn him, but then I realized... I hadn't. I had worked hard to earn the empress' position, not Arsen himself.

If I had to put it bluntly, he was basically sold to my family as collateral for their support. I never had to earn him, because he was given to me for free.

We were fortunate enough that we got along pretty well from the beginning, but imagine if he had to spend the rest of his life with someone who he didn't even get along with? It would be so miserable for him.

"I was a fool, Calypso. I still am," he said after a moment. "And because of my own foolishness, I guess we both got caught up in something we didn't bargain for."

"Do you regret it?"

"It's impossible not to. I'm sure it speaks volumes about my parasitic needs."

I let his words sink in, and it was the moment I realized something. "During the four years of our marriage, you... you were lonely, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was," he admitted. "I know that I'm not supposed to have emotions because like you always said, I'm a bloody emperor. But... I'm also human, you know. In those four years, we grew apart and I was so lonely and alone. Then... then one day she appeared in front of me, Calypso, and all of sudden I felt like I was lost in my childhood dream again. It's silly, really, but even an emperor is allowed to dream, right?"

"Your childhood dream?"

"You might think this is pathetic, but, well, when I was a kid, I used to dream of becoming a hero." He chuckled bitterly. "Don't get me wrong. It wasn't about being a mighty or glorious hero like in fairy tales. It was something less grand, something simpler. I—I just wished that I could be such a person—the type of person who knows how to save someone."

"It's a nice thought," I agreed forcefully, a hint of nostalgia slipping into my tone as I tried to ignore the unpleasant feelings in my chest.

Dream, huh?

I'm sure I must have been someone who used to have dreams about my life, too.

Even though I already forgot what it felt like to have such naive thoughts, I remembered that just like any other little girl, once upon a time, before the harsh reality of the world had sharpened my edges and hardened me in ways I hadn't thought possible, I had dreamed of finding my prince charming and a romance that would sweep me off my feet like those heroines in a romance novel that I used to sneak around to read when my mother wasn't around.

I had wanted flowers, candlelight dinners, kissing in the rain, picnics, holding hands, and that typical experience of a youthful romance, free from any worries.

It was so silly if I thought about it now, but even someone like me had wanted to experience that once in my life, so I couldn't really blame him for having such a dream.

The only difference between us was that he would eventually fulfill his dream because he was indeed the hero of this story, meanwhile I—

My wandering mind was cut short when he said something unexpected, "Phoebe... She loves my uncle."

He glanced at me to see my reaction and frowned when I didn't give him one.

Well, what did you expect? I had already read the book. Hell, I probably knew about their fucked-up relationship more than anyone else.

He sighed before continuing, "Perhaps she still does. I'm not sure. But that bastard used her as if she's just a disposable chess piece. She loved him and he knew that, yet he still played with her heart and even hurt her with his own hands."

I listened to his rants attentively even though the topic was rather distasteful—though listening to his once-innocent dreams gave me an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. I tried hard to suppress it, because it made me reflect on how I was one of the reasons for its loss.

"It might be just some kind of savior bullshit of mine, but for a time, I foolishly thought I could at least save her from my uncle's clutches if I kept her by my side. I might just be deluding myself though." His voice brought me back from my wandering thoughts. 

Ah, so that was why...

He—Arsen—he was sick. And for a time, I guess he thought Phoebe was his cure. Little did he know, she was the sickness itself.

"And then the child was born and she—"

I didn't know what came over me, but upon hearing the word child leave his mouth, something suddenly snapped within me. A sudden burst of frustration. Anger. I wanted to scream. I didn't want to hear about that damn child.

I needed release, so without thinking, I picked out the antique vase on his bedside table—centuries old and priceless and probably belonging to his great-great-great-grandfather—and threw it across the room where it broke into pieces.

"Calypso?" Arsen called out.

"What?" I glared at him.

Fuck it! Fuck it all!

He watched me silently for a moment. I breathed a little heavily—a little erratically. Then slowly, he reached out to pick up another vase that was on his side of the bed and placed it in front of me.

What the fuck is he doing?

"That, too. Throw it. Break it all." He pushed the vase, the priceless historic vase toward me. "Just break everything. Until you feel better. Just do what will help you. I won't let anyone say anything about it."

I stared at the vase with incredulous eyes. A breath of disbelief left my lips, but somehow, his actions and words made me calm down in an instant.

Of course it was just a sudden surge of anger that had suddenly appeared. It went away just as suddenly, leaving me feeling a little stupid and very immature, but he acted like nothing was unusual.

Maybe he's used to it?

I observed him a little.

Yes. It would make sense that he was used to it. He had been stuck with me for years, and I was in no way an easy person to be around even before the regression.

Seeing me calming down, he took it as a cue to open his mouth again. "You don't like me talking about her, don't you?"

Of course I don't like it!

Then again, I was the one who brought up this topic in the first place and yet I was the one who got angry like an uncultured barbarian.

Shit, how pathetic.

And him...

Why the hell is he suddenly so good at figuring me out? I'm starting to miss the clueless Arsen. At least, I wouldn't have to be answering such troublesome questions then.

"Am I that easy to read?"

"No, not at all. I've just been devoting an extraordinary amount of time to you as of late."

This brought another wave of blisters. Not all of it was bad. I pursed my lips in an attempt to ward off my smile and kept looking elsewhere but at him.

"Let's just drop that topic then. I won't talk about her again in front of you unless you want me to," he said.

I just huffed and didn't respond.

Him, being so understanding and patient and nice both warmed my heart and annoyed me at the same time. Blaming him for everything was so much easier. It was what I wanted to do, but he... I didn't know how to treat him when he was like this.

There was a moment of silence before he casually asked, "So we just confirmed that we both remember the other timeline, didn't we?"

***

Author's Note:

Finally, Calypso and Arsen cleared up the misunderstandings a bit more. Honestly, I'm really not a fan of misunderstanding tropes since it could be so frustrating sometimes. Do you know how many series would end in one season if only the main characters communicated properly instead of dragging the misunderstanding for several more seasons, huh? Most, if not all of the drama and misunderstandings between the main couple could have been avoided if they actually COMMUNICATED. 

But then we won't have anything to watch or read if that's the case, so maybe I should just let them be. Anyway, between Arsen and Calypso, I think we could all agree that Arsen is the one who's more open when it comes to communication. Before the regression, Calypso was more of a reserved person. You can tell she's very prideful and arrogant and she rarely showed her emotions (unlike now, ever since she developed anger issues, her emotions are literally like a ticking bomb that can explode at any moment). 

Last but not least, thank you for still reading this. I appreciate you guys so much. Please consider voting and commenting because your support is the only thing that motivates me to keep writing.

The theme song for this chapter is:

Villain Dies - (G)I-DLE

Once upon a time, there was a villain
Who is a villain?

A mouth filled with candy, strawberry
As if this is my last meal, it stings but still sweet
I'm stupid and filthy, but she's okay
No matter how many times I shoot, they don't hit, it's okay

Why don't you love me, look at this
It's so beautiful
When will this crazy novel end?

If the villain dies

(Okay, Bullet, Love, Die)

Heroine is mine
I'll never die
Even if it's your sad ending

Heroine is mine
I'll never die
Even if it's your sad ending

You put me down and want me dead
In fact, you don't even know me that well
I never cry, but I was in pain yesterday as well cuz of her

Who is the villain, that villain was me
I hated her for ruining everything
But I was the villain in this novel

Hey yo god or author I'm goin' to hell but not alone

Driven crazy, my play will change this ending

Hey yo god or author I'm goin' to hell but not alone no no no

Why do you love her, look at thus
You always hurt me
When will this crazy novel end?

If the villain dies

(Okay, Bullet, Love, Die)

Heroine is mine
I'll never die
Even if it's your sad ending

Heroine is mine
I'll never die
Even if it's your sad ending

I won't leave it flow like this
Look closely at all the fun endings
The villain's laugh making a depressing last page
Oh right oh right, write

Never die

https://youtu.be/Z1wizp75nok