Page 29 of The Immortal’s Mark

My chambers are quiet. Through the wall, I can hear him pacing again.

Good.

The relief is worse than the worry. I should not care whether he sleeps.

I write:

Target shows unexpected behavioral patterns consistent with genuine moral core.

Cross it out.

The emperor demonstrates kindness without political calculation.

Cross it out.

Problem:

I stare at the word. The ink dries on my pen.

His pacing continues. Steady. Measured. The rhythm I have already memorized.

Problem: he is more human than anticipated.

I let that stand.

Hypothesis: this complicates everything.

The pen hovers. I should write more. Should catalogue the evidence, the patterns, the growing list of moments I cannot explain away.

Instead I write:

Chapter 645: In which our heroine learns that some problems cannot be solved with knives.

The humor does not land. Even to me.

I close the journal. Set down the pen. Listen to him pace through the wall that separates us.

This is fine. I have survived eight centuries. I can survive one decent emperor.

The lie tastes like cold tea and kindness I did not accept.

I blow out the lamp and pretend I am not counting his footsteps until dawn.