Chapter 174: a son who lost his father

Chapter 174: Chapter 174: a son who lost his father

The Emperor’s condition worsened two days after the wedding date had passed.

Adrian had already stopped counting the hours.

He had learned to measure time by the physicians’ reports instead.

A slight improvement.

A setback.

Another examination.

Another consultation.

Another night in which no one dared to say what they were all beginning to understand.

His father was dying.

Adrian stood beside the Emperor’s bed when the chief physician finally lowered his head.

"Your Highness."

Adrian looked at him.

The physician’s expression told him enough before he spoke.

"We have done everything we could."

Adrian said nothing.

The physician continued quietly.

"His Majesty is weakening. At this point, there is nothing more we can do except keep him comfortable."

Adrian looked toward the bed.

His father lay still beneath the covers.

"How long?"

"We cannot say."

"Hours?"

"Perhaps."

The physician hesitated.

"Perhaps less."

Something inside Adrian seemed to drop.

He looked at his father again.

For days, he had known this was possible.

He had listened to the physicians.

He had watched every small deterioration.

He had understood what none of them wanted to say aloud.

And still—

he had not been prepared to hear it.

"Leave us."

The physician bowed.

"Of course, Your Highness."

The others followed him from the room.

The doors closed.

And for the first time in days, Adrian was alone with his father.

He remained standing for a moment.

Then he pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat.

His father’s face looked different.

Not like the Emperor.

Not like the man who had presided over councils, commanded rooms, and settled arguments with a single look.

Just his father.

Adrian reached for his hand.

He held it between both of his.

There was no response.

He hadn’t expected one.

For a while, Adrian said nothing.

He had spent his entire life knowing exactly how to speak to his father.

About the Empire.

About ministers.

About laws.

About mistakes.

About the things Adrian had done well and the things his father believed he could have done better.

But now, when there was almost no time left, he didn’t know where to begin.

Eventually, he smiled faintly.

"You know..."

He stopped.

The words felt strange in his mouth.

"I don’t think I’ve ever told you how grateful I am."

His thumb moved slowly across his father’s knuckles.

"Not properly, anyway."

He looked at his father’s face.

"You’ve always been there."

A pause.

"Even when I didn’t want you to be."

The corner of his mouth lifted faintly.

"Especially then."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I know I wasn’t always easy."

Another pause.

"But you were patient with me."

His voice softened.

"You taught me everything."

He glanced down at their joined hands.

"How to govern. How to listen. How to make decisions when there isn’t a good answer."

He swallowed.

"I learned more from you than I ever said."

Silence.

Adrian looked at his father again.

"I hope you knew that."

His voice grew quieter.

"I hope you knew I was grateful."

His eyes began to burn.

"And I hope you knew..."

He stopped.

The next words took longer.

"...that I loved you."

For a moment, he could not continue.

He looked down, blinking slowly.

One tear slipped down his cheek.

Adrian did not wipe it away.

"I don’t say that very often."

He gave a faint, almost embarrassed smile.

"Actually, I don’t think I say it at all."

Another pause.

"So I suppose I’m making up for it now."

His fingers tightened gently around his father’s hand.

"You’d probably tell me I’m talking too much."

A quiet breath escaped him.

"But you’re going to have to listen this time."

His eyes remained on his father’s face.

"Because I have quite a lot to say."

And for the first time, Adrian allowed himself to speak without measuring every word.

He talked about his childhood.

About the lessons his father had given him.

About the times they had disagreed.

About the things he had never properly thanked him for.

Nothing grand.

Nothing that would matter to anyone else.

Just things that belonged to the two of them.

And perhaps his father could not hear him.

Perhaps he could.

Adrian chose to believe the latter.

So he kept talking.

The words came more easily after that.

Memories he had not thought about in years.

Small moments.

Arguments.

Lessons.

Things his father had said that Adrian had dismissed at the time, only to understand them years later.

He even laughed once.

Quietly.

"I remember when you told me I was too stubborn to govern."

His smile faded.

"You were probably right."

He looked down at their hands.

"You usually were."

His voice became quieter.

"I should have told you that more often, too."

He fell silent for a moment.

Then continued.

"I’m going to miss this."

His fingers tightened.

"Having you there."

The words came slower now.

"Knowing that if I needed to ask something, I could."

His throat tightened.

"Even if I already knew the answer."

Another tear slipped down his cheek.

This time, he wiped it away almost absently.

Then another followed.

He didn’t bother with that one.

There was no one in the room to see him.

No council.

No ministers.

No court.

No Empire.

Just Adrian and the man who had been his father long before Adrian understood what an Emperor was.

"I’ll take care of it."

His voice broke slightly.

Adrian tightened his grip on his father’s hand.

"The Empire."

He drew an uneven breath.

"I’ll take care of everything."

He wasn’t sure whether he was making a promise to his father or to himself.

Perhaps both.

"You don’t have to worry."

Silence answered him.

Adrian sat there for a long time.

He spoke occasionally.

Small things.

Things he would never have thought worth saying before.

Thank you.

I’m sorry.

I remember.

I know.

He did not know whether his father could hear any of it.

It didn’t matter.

Adrian needed to say them.

Eventually, he stopped speaking.

He simply held his father’s hand.

The afternoon light shifted slowly across the room.

At some point, the physicians returned.

They remained near the doorway.

Adrian didn’t tell them to leave.

One approached quietly and checked the Emperor.

Then waited.

The minutes passed.

His father’s breathing had become so faint that Adrian found himself watching his chest for every rise and fall.

One breath.

Then another.

A longer pause.

Another.

Adrian’s fingers tightened.

"Father."

The next breath barely came.

Then—

nothing.

Adrian waited.

His eyes remained fixed on his father’s face.

Another second passed.

Then another.

"Father?"

The physician stepped forward.

Adrian didn’t look at him.

He already knew.

Still, the physician checked.

The room remained utterly silent.

Finally, the man lowered his head.

"Your Highness."

Adrian stared at his father.

"His Majesty has passed."

Something inside him broke.

Not loudly.

There was no cry.

No collapse.

Adrian simply bowed his head over his father’s hand.

His shoulders moved once with a breath he couldn’t quite control.

The tears came silently.

He had known this was coming.

He had spent days preparing for it.

He had listened to physicians tell him there was little hope.

None of it had prepared him for the terrible finality of those words.

His father was gone.

The man who had always been there was simply—

gone.

Adrian pressed his father’s hand briefly against his forehead and closed his eyes.

For those few moments, there was no Crown Prince.

No succession.

No throne waiting beyond the doors.

Only a son who had just lost his father.

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AN: i cried so many tears here... the emperor was so good. And to be honest, adrian was a very good son too. Ah i just cried so much that i look stupid hahaha