Chapter Text
The sun slanted across the Tracen Academy track, catching in the sheen of Symboli Rudolf’s long brown hair as she tightened her gloves. She stood tall, chin lifted, the very image of dignity. Even in practice, she carried herself like royalty—every movement deliberate, every glance heavy with presence.
It was no wonder the others called her _The Emperor._
And yet… her trainer leaned lazily against the rail, grinning as if the great Symboli Rudolf were just another girl waiting to be teased.
“Emperor, your loyal subject requests that you try not to look _too_ perfect today,” he drawled, shading his eyes with one hand. “The other girls are starting to think I rig your training sessions.”
Rudolf’s eyes slid toward him, calm but sharp. “You are my trainer. If they doubt the fairness of my victories, it reflects upon your credibility more than mine.”
“Ouch,” he clutched his chest theatrically. “Wounded by my own Emperor. Truly, I suffer for the crown.”
A faint sigh left Rudolf’s lips. It was meant to be stern, but the corner of her mouth betrayed the tiniest twitch upward.
“Focus,” she said. “We aim for a clean sprint today. Precision matters more than dramatics.”
“Of course, of course. Precision first, dramatics later. Preferably in the council office where no one can see us.”
Her composure faltered for the briefest second. Color touched her cheeks, but she turned away before he could relish it.
“Begin the count,” she ordered.
He chuckled under his breath, raising his stopwatch. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
---
The whistle blew, and Rudolf launched forward. Power surged through her stride, every step sharp and decisive. She was beautiful in motion—like a banner carried into battle, untouchable, unstoppable.
He couldn’t help but grin wider as he shouted from the rail. “That’s it, Emperor! Show the track why it bows to you!”
She crossed the line in record time, chest rising and falling as she slowed. The others clapped from a distance, whispers following: _Of course it’s Rudolf… she’s on another level…_
But her gaze sought only one person.
“Well?” she asked, approaching, voice still steady but tinged with something more. “Was that sufficient?”
He leaned close, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “More than sufficient. You just won me dinner.”
Her brow arched. “Dinner?”
“I bet on you in my head. If you broke your record, you’d owe me a meal. And you did.”
“…You invent wagers that favor you.”
“Exactly. That way, I always get more time with you.”
Rudolf’s lips parted as if to scold him, but the words tangled somewhere between pride and something softer. Finally, she shook her head, exhaling slowly.
“You are insufferable,” she murmured.
“And you love it,” he whispered back, flashing a grin.
This time, she didn’t deny it.
---
Dinner came at a small restaurant tucked near Tracen’s main street. The trainer leaned forward eagerly, devouring his meal like a man starved after a full day on the track. Fork, bite, sip, repeat—fast, efficient, zero wasted motion.
Then he froze mid-bite.
Across from him, Symboli Rudolf sat with perfect posture, napkin folded just so, expression as regal as ever. And yet…
“Refill, please,” she told the waiter, handing over her bowl.
The trainer blinked. That makes… He glanced at the empty stack next to her plate. Eleven.
She accepted her twelfth steaming serving with the same dignified air as if she were accepting a diplomatic treaty. Picking up her chopsticks, she began again—methodical, precise, almost graceful in the way she devoured the food.
He put down his fork. “...You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Rudolf glanced up at him, brow faintly raised. “Is something the matter?”
“Something the matter?” he hissed, leaning in. “That’s your twelfth bowl. Twelfth. Do you realize some of the first-years nearly faint when they see you eat a second helping in the cafeteria?!”
Unbothered, Rudolf lifted another bite. “An Emperor must have the stamina to stand above all others.”
He gawked. “That’s not stamina, that’s… that’s annihilation! Where is it all going?!”
“Fuel for victory,” she replied smoothly, before swallowing another mouthful.
The trainer slapped a hand to his forehead, torn between exasperation and admiration. “You… You’re a bottomless pit in disguise. An elegant, terrifying bottomless pit.”
She dabbed her lips with her napkin, utterly unfazed. “Would you prefer I wither and faint on the track instead?”
“Well no, but—”
“Then refrain from complaining and finish your portion. You will need stamina as well if you intend to keep up with me.”
His mouth fell open. She had just turned the tables on him—in public, no less.
“…You just— You just scolded me for not eating enough while you’re on bowl number twelve.”
“Thirteen,” she corrected calmly as the waiter placed another refill in front of her.
For a moment, he was speechless. Then a laugh bubbled out of him, helpless and loud enough to draw a curious glance from a nearby table.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said between chuckles. “The great Emperor of Tracen, feared and admired by all… and you’re secretly a glutton.”
Rudolf’s chopsticks paused mid-air. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“…If you repeat that outside this table,” she said, voice low and dangerous, “you will regret it.”
He leaned across the table, grin widening. “Oh, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me… Your Majesty.”
For the first time all evening, Rudolf faltered. Heat brushed her cheeks, so subtle most wouldn’t notice—but he did.
She lowered her gaze, finishing her thirteenth bowl in silence, while he sat back with the smug satisfaction of a man who had just dented the armor of the Emperor herself.
And though she tried to ignore him, the faintest smile tugged at her lips.
---
The night air outside the restaurant was cool, touched with the faint scent of blooming camellias along the academy road. The moon hung above like a pale crown, silvering the quiet path back toward the dorms.
Rudolf walked with the same dignified bearing she always carried, hands folded behind her back, steps measured. Yet the light breeze tugged at her long hair, softening her image.
Beside her, the trainer shoved his hands into his pockets, grinning in the dark.
“So… thirteen bowls, huh?” he teased.
Her eyes slid toward him, calm but sharp. “Do you wish to sleep in the stables tonight?”
He chuckled. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m impressed. Honestly, if I’d eaten that much, they’d be rolling me home in a wheelbarrow.”
“That is because you lack discipline.”
“And here I thought it was because I had normal human organs.”
Rudolf exhaled—half a sigh, half a laugh. “You never cease to make a fool of yourself.”
“Someone has to balance out all your majesty,” he shot back. “If I let you keep being perfect all the time, you’d probably float away from the rest of us mortals.”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she slowed her pace, gazing at the moon. The quiet stretched between them until the trainer’s grin softened into something gentler.
“…You really do carry a lot, don’t you?” he said quietly. “The title, the expectations, the eyes of everyone. Must be exhausting.”
Rudolf’s expression flickered, a crack in her polished armor. For a heartbeat, she looked almost vulnerable.
“It is… the duty of the Emperor,” she murmured. “If I falter, then what meaning does the title hold?”
He tilted his head, watching her carefully. Then, in typical fashion, he ruined the solemn air with a mischievous grin.
“Well, for one, it’d mean I finally get to see you as just Rudolf instead of ‘Her Imperial Majesty, Conqueror of Dinner Buffets.’”
Her head snapped toward him, scandalized. “You—!”
But her protest faltered when she saw his eyes. He wasn’t mocking her. Not really. Beneath the grin, there was warmth. Care. A quiet promise that he’d be there whether she stood as the Emperor or just as herself.
She pressed her lips together, exhaling softly. “…You are insufferable.”
“And you like it,” he returned smoothly.
She tried to glare at him, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, curling into the faintest smile.
---
By the time they reached the dorms, the campus had grown still. Most of the windows were dark, save for the occasional glow of a lamp where some overworked student council member was burning the midnight oil.
Rudolf stopped at the foot of the dorm steps, turning to him with composed finality. “That will be all. Rest well. Tomorrow begins early.”
But he wasn’t finished.
“Hold on,” he said, stepping closer. “You think I’m just going to leave after you’ve eaten enough to feed a cavalry? What if you roll out of bed and can’t get up tomorrow?”
Her brows arched. “Your concern is misplaced. I assure you, my condition is optimal.”
“Yeah, but who’s going to _confirm_ that?” He leaned slightly closer, dropping his voice. “Should probably check your room. You know, just to make sure the Emperor hasn’t collapsed in a tragic post-dinner incident.”
Her eyes narrowed. “…You are shameless.”
“And you’re not stopping me,” he replied with a grin.
For a long moment, she simply looked at him. Her gaze was steady, unreadable, weighing his intentions like a judge considering a verdict. Then, with the faintest sigh, she turned toward the dorm door.
“Very well. Five minutes.”
He blinked, caught off guard. “…Wait, seriously?”
“Do not test my patience,” she said over her shoulder, already stepping inside.
He hurried after her, heart thumping in a way that had nothing to do with teasing anymore.
---
Her room was immaculate—of course it was. Books aligned neatly on shelves, a desk free of clutter, bed perfectly made. It was the kind of order that screamed both discipline and solitude.
“Wow,” he muttered, looking around. “I was half-expecting banners and a throne.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” she replied, setting aside her jacket with a precision that made him feel sloppy just watching.
Still, he grinned. “So this is where the Emperor rests. Huh. Cozier than I thought.”
Her eyes flicked toward him, curious. “…And what did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Something less… human.”
That earned him a silence. For a second, he thought he’d gone too far—until she looked away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“…It is a relief,” she admitted quietly, “to be seen that way.”
His grin softened. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Rudolf.”
She turned to face him, her composure wavering as he spoke her name plainly—no titles, no crowns, no Emperor. Just _her._
For once, she didn’t have a ready answer. And in the stillness of her room, with the moonlight spilling through the window, the distance between them felt unbearably small.
He leaned in slightly, playful tone returning just enough to mask the thrum in his chest. “Careful. If you keep letting me see this side of you, I might start thinking you’re human after all.”
Her breath caught. Then, with regal poise, she stepped past him toward the door.
“Your five minutes are over,” she said firmly. But her voice lacked its usual sharpness, softened by something unspoken.
He laughed under his breath, making for the exit. “Fine, fine. But don’t think you’ve shaken me off that easily, Your Majesty.”
And when he left, she allowed herself the smallest smile in the quiet, fingers brushing her lips as though to hold back words she wasn’t ready to say.