A Scandalous Kiss in the City of Lights
A paparazzi breeze swept in once more, tousling my hair and fluttering his collar. As the gas lamps flickered to life one by one, Paris truly earned its title as the City of Light, offering a hypnotic spectacle.
The Seine shimmered under moonlight and lantern glow, flowing onward, while the exhibition halls—each flaunting its national flair—slipped into darkness, their faint outlines weaving a dreamlike haze.
Franz Joseph's hand tightened around mine. Even through his glove, his warmth seeped in, making my heart pound so loudly I swore I could hear it.
"Sisi."
Gone was the emperor's usual icy composure; his voice was soft, trembling.
His gaze was too close—Paris's nightscape reflected perfectly in his eyes.
Sparkling lights like stars, and amid them, his look fixed on me.
"How was today for you?"
A laugh escaped me.
"It was fun—brought back old memories. And you?"
Instead of answering, he slowly leaned down.
The moment his breath brushed my cheek, time froze.
The expo grounds' clamor, the music, the laughter—all faded away.
As if only we two remained.
Our lips met.
Light at first, almost playful.
Franz Joseph pulled me into his arms.
We melted deeper into each other.
His lips spread a sweet energy through my mouth, chasing away the coffee's lingering bitterness.
When they parted, in that breathless silence, he pressed his forehead to mine. Our breaths tickled each other's ears.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For letting me just be Joseph today."
I teasingly fiddled with his mustache.
"So tomorrow, back to Emperor?"
"Tomorrow's uncertain. For tonight, I just want to stay like this."
I buried my face in his chest. A violin melody drifted up from below, enveloping us.
"Yosha."
"Yes."
"I wish we had more nights like this."
Instead of words, he hugged me again.
Tighter. Warmer.
Leaning on the observation deck railing, we stood there like that for a long time.
Paris's nightscape spread beneath our feet.
Politics, the empire, Hungary, Bohemia—all forgotten for the moment.
I clutched my head and bolted upright.
"...This is driving me crazy."
I'd gotten way too swept up in last night's mood. Was this the swinging bridge effect or whatever? Definitely mistaking vertigo phobia for love.
After the deck last night, back at the palace...
I fanned myself to cool off and rang for a maid.
"Water and the calendar, please."
My memory was fuzzy there.
Sipping water, I checked the circled date on the calendar.
Hmm... still about four days' buffer.
That was five days ago.
"Your Majesty, you must hear this news."
What now? She never speaks up first.
I took the newspaper from Königseck.
Cough.
I choked and thumped my chest.
"What... is this."
The illustration showed Franz Joseph and me holding hands, and though the article skirted around it, anyone could tell they'd witnessed a kiss.
"What does His Majesty say?"
"Not to worry."
Who the hell saw us?
Could anyone even see?
Up on the deck, it was just Franz Joseph and me.
No one without clearance gets past the guards and attendants.
...Paparazzi.
More than the embarrassment of exposed privacy, a weird thrill tickled me.
Me, with paparazzi on my tail for the first time...!
Something I'd only seen in idol or celeb gossip.
Truth be told, in our empire, no paparazzi could tail me.
Secret police would snatch them without a trace...?
"I need to see His Majesty."
Just past the suite is his room anyway.
Franz Joseph was at his desk, pen moving amid stacks of papers.
Even in Paris, workaholic mornings.
The real deal.
"What is it?"
I showed him the paper instead of answering.
"You've seen it, then."
"Yeah. And I want an explanation."
"Explanation for what?"
"You said not to worry."
He paused, gathering his thoughts.
"Napoleon claims he had no idea."
Not gonna shut down the paper, is he?
"Leave it be."
"Leave it? You hate privacy invasions."
I nodded at Grüne; he discreetly exited.
"I used to."
An empress can't exist alone—how could she have privacy?
I'm still trying to treat my maids like extensions of myself.
In a world where even the wedding night is spectacle, and childbirth is public viewing, privacy is absurd.
"Once I gave up, it got easier."
Superstars never really have privacy anyway, right?
His reaction said this was the answer he wanted.
"France just issued a formal apology, huh?"
"Right. They probably knew but let it slide for the expo's success."
He's trying so hard to soothe me; I should play along.
The tone wasn't bad anyway.
"What about Mother?"
"She doesn't know yet. No need to telegraph over this."
Mother probably wouldn't mind much.
She's even scheduled more official events to show our harmony.
"Still, if you want it down, I'll mention it to Napoleon."
"No need. I came early just to stop you from protesting to the paper."
Could backfire in France.
Plus, shaky Napoleon won't touch the press.
"Just let it slide this once."
But extract something next time.
Our pavilion's already well-treated... what else?
Nothing comes to mind.
"When they run stories, promise only friendly ones."
"That enough?"
I nodded.
"The Egyptian Pasha asked about my schedule in two years via my maid."
"Completion date, then."
"Didn't buy canal shares, did you?"
"Did you?"
"Nah. No personal use, and bonds are iffy."
We don't even have eastern colonies or... well.
"...No way."
Franz Joseph looked uneasy.
"Yup."
I approached his desk, propping my chin on my hands.
"You're going too, right?"
No way strikes again.
"Egypt's not like Europe."
"So what? Other royals are going."
"They might demand local customs."
"Think of it as Mass."
"Not veils. Did you see women in the Egyptian or Ottoman pavilions?"
Uh, good point?
Unlike others, those were all men except visitors.
"None... but Yosha."
I stood slowly, locking eyes with him.
"Were you scouting other women?"
He looked baffled.
"...What?"
"Saying no women in the pavilion, but secretly wondering where all the local ladies went, right? Even holding my hand."
His eyes widened briefly, then he fought to regain imperial calm.
"Sisi, that's—"
"Oh, right. Your Majesty only thinks empire and diplomacy—no time for women. So why the uneasy face? Imagining a harem?"
"Such nonsense—"
"Be honest. Seeing those harem-dressed oriental dolls, didn't you wonder if they're really that pretty?"
"Sisi, I mean—"
Time to stop teasing.
"Kidding."
He sighed in relief.
"An assassination scare would've been less intense than that."
Psh, not that bad.
"Men's ideal is always the new girl."
"Who said that?"
"Common sense."
"Doesn't apply to me."
"Folks obsessed with money claim indifference to it."
"But Sisi, you're overlooking one thing."
"What?"
He leaned in, whispering in my ear.
"I don't crave new women. I love the one who feels new every day. Like you."
"......"
"Yesterday a free dreamer, today a wise stateswoman, tomorrow who knows? Just like you."
I'd held the reins till now...
I snorted casually.
"Hmph, smooth talker. Learned from Napoleon?"
"Born with it."
He lightly kissed my forehead.
I covered the spot with my hand.
"...Get back to work, Your Majesty."
Hiding my flush, I fled the office.
Damn, embarrassing.