Reincarnated as Napoleon II-Chapter 44: Evening Rest or Work

After dinner, the palace settled into a quieter rhythm.

Servants cleared the hall. Doors closed softly. Footsteps faded into corridors that seemed to stretch forever.

Napoleon II rose first.

"I’ll walk you to your room," he said.

Elisabeth stood and nodded. Her parents exchanged a look, then her mother smiled faintly.

"Don’t stay up too late," she said to her daughter. "Tomorrow will be busy."

"I know," Elisabeth replied.

They separated at the main corridor. Elisabeth’s parents were escorted toward their wing, attendants following. Napoleon II led the other way, their pace unhurried.

Versailles at night felt different. Less ceremonial. More functional. Lamps were set into the walls at regular intervals, casting even light instead of flickering shadows. No torches. No smoke.

"This wing was finished last year," Napoleon II said as they walked. "I wanted the guest quarters modernized first."

"I noticed," Elisabeth replied. "It doesn’t smell like oil or wax."

"That was the idea."

They stopped in front of a tall door guarded by two Imperial Guards. Both straightened immediately.

"This will be your accommodation," Napoleon II said. "Until the wedding."

Elisabeth nodded. There was no disappointment in her expression. If anything, relief.

"Thank you," she said.

He opened the door himself and stepped aside.

Inside, the room was quiet and orderly. The furniture was elegant but restrained. A large bed against the far wall. A desk near the window. Cabinets built flush into the walls. The air felt clean.

Elisabeth stepped inside and paused.

"It’s warm," she said. "But not heavy."

"Ventilation ducts," Napoleon II replied. "Hidden in the walls. Passive flow for now."

She turned slowly, taking it all in.

Her eyes stopped at the bedside table.

There was a lamp. Glass shade. Brass base. No visible flame.

Napoleon II noticed.

"Go ahead," he said.

She reached out cautiously.

"Just flick it," he added.

Elisabeth pressed the small switch.

The lamp came alive instantly. No spark. No delay. Just light.

She pulled her hand back slightly, then laughed under her breath.

"That’s... convenient."

"You can turn it off the same way," he said.

She did. Then on again. Then off.

"So this whole palace—"

"Electrified," he confirmed. "Independent generators. Redundant lines."

She walked closer to the window. Wall-mounted lights were set there too, switches placed at a comfortable height.

"And these?"

"Same thing."

Elisabeth tested one. The room brightened further.

"I don’t need candles at all," she said.

"No," Napoleon II replied. "And no servants entering your room just to light them."

She nodded approvingly.

He moved toward a tall wooden door near the back.

"The bathroom," he said.

He opened it.

The space was tiled, clean, and brightly lit. A washbasin with metal taps. A mirror fixed securely into the wall. A porcelain fixture she recognized from the train.

"A bidet," she said, surprised.

"Yes."

"And hot water?"

"On demand," he replied. "Electric heating coils."

She turned one of the knobs experimentally. Water flowed at once.

"This feels... unfair," she said, smiling. "My family’s palaces will feel ancient after this."

"They are ancient," Napoleon II said simply. "That doesn’t make them useless. Just inefficient."

Her gaze caught on another object near the corner of the room.

A metal cage mounted on a stand. Blades inside.

She tilted her head.

"What’s that?"

"An electric fan," he said.

He reached over and turned a dial.

The blades began to spin. Slowly at first. Then faster. A steady stream of air filled the room.

Elisabeth felt it immediately.

"Oh."

She stepped closer, letting the airflow brush against her face.

"You can control the speed," he said. "And turn it off completely."

She adjusted the dial herself.

"This would be wonderful during summer," she said. "Versailles gets unbearable."

"I know," Napoleon II replied. "That’s why this is only the beginning."

She looked back at him.

"You’re planning more."

"Yes."

"What else?"

He hesitated for half a second, then decided.

"I want to modernize the entire palace," he said. "Including temperature control."

"Temperature control?"

"HVAC," he said.

She frowned slightly.

"That doesn’t sound like a French word."

"It isn’t," he replied. "It stands for heating, ventilation, and air conditioning."

She blinked.

"Air... conditioning?"

"Cooling," he said.

She stared at him.

"You can cool a building?"

"In theory," he said. "In practice, it’s complicated."

She smiled instead of looking doubtful.

"And you still want to do it."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it gets hot in Versailles," he said plainly. "And because challenges are problems that haven’t been solved yet."

She laughed softly.

"I think I’m starting to understand how your mind works."

He allowed himself a small smile.

They returned to the bedroom.

Elisabeth set her gloves down carefully on the desk.

"This room is more advanced than any I’ve stayed in," she said. "It feels... quiet. Safe."

"It should," Napoleon II said.

He walked toward the door.

"If you need anything," he continued, "there will be an Imperial Guard stationed outside all night. You won’t need to leave the room."

She nodded.

"And you?" she asked.

"I’ll be nearby," he replied. "But not here."

She understood. There was no awkwardness in it.

"Good night, then," she said.

"Good night, Elisabeth." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

He opened the door and stepped out.

The guards straightened again as the door closed behind him.

"Gentlemen, sleeping in that room is my future wife. If anything happens to her, you don’t want to find out. Is that understood?"

"Yes, your Imperial Highness," they intoned.

"Good," Napoleon II said.

He turned and walked down the corridor alone.

His own chambers were quieter, farther from the guest wings. Fewer guards. Fewer servants. The door closed behind him with a soft, final sound.

He didn’t go to the bed.

Instead, he crossed to a tall cabinet set into the wall. No ornament. Reinforced hinges. A simple lock. He opened it.

Inside were rolled blueprints, stacked carefully, each secured with string and labeled in a precise hand.

He reached in and took one.

The paper unfurled across the desk with a faint rasp.

A rifle.

Clean lines. Bolt-action. Internal magazine. Five-round capacity. Controlled feed. Heavy locking lugs. Every dimension annotated. Materials specified. Tolerances tight.

Mauser 98.

"Time to work."