After the uproar, I began to stay only in the villa.
But thanks to the maids who kept chattering as if they had never acted like a mute, I learned that the boy who had assaulted me was the Crown Prince of the empire and my half-brother. And that the black-haired girl I had seen in the birch forest that day was my half-sister...
It was also learned that less than six months had passed since the two had lost their mothers.
That meant that Senevere and I entered the imperial household just three weeks after the death of the former Empress Bernadette.
Even Senevere went so far as to erase all traces of the former Empress as soon as she entered the palace.
It occurred to me that perhaps the small garden behind the main palace was a trace of Bernadette that my mother had failed to remove.
I looked out the window.
Summer rain was pouring down on the garden that my mother had carefully cultivated. The plants in the garden, soaked in moisture and giving off a strong grassy smell, seemed like terrible monsters.
I drew the curtains over the window. Then I crouched on the bed and thought of the Crown Prince's hateful gaze and my stepsister's face that had turned white with fear. And the blue-eyed boy who had been glaring at me while protecting her...
"Barcas Raedgo Sheerkhan..."
I looked up at the ceiling and muttered his name absentmindedly.
When I finally learned the boy's name, I was not happy at all, because I realized that he would never smile at me again.
The former Empress Bernadette was from the Margrave Oristain family, one of the most prestigious families in Osiris, but her mother was a noblewoman from the House of Sheerkhan. The late Empress and Barcas were distant relatives.
She even took care of Barcas, who entered the palace at a young age and began receiving a harsh education. Perhaps he considers Senevere an enemy.
'And me too...'
When I recalled the cold eyes that had been looking at me, for the first time, I began to resent being Senevere's daughter. Even my appearance, which I had always been proud of, seemed shameful.
I didn't want to feel that way.
I was the one who got beaten up so badly, why should I feel guilty?
It was the Crown Prince who did the bad thing.
I really didn't know anything. What did I do wrong? I'm not bad. I didn't do anything bad.
I kept repeating that to myself, but when I was surrounded by the cold gazes of my servants, those thoughts disappeared without a trace.
I was perfectly aware of the significance of their harsh touches upon me.
Bringing ice-cold bath water and roughly washing me until my skin turned red, cleverly poking my skin with tweezers every time they changed my clothes, combing my scalp so viciously that it hurt, serving me cold food at every meal...
These were all their own forms of punishment.
I knew I was hated, but I didn't really care because it wasn't much different when I was with the Taren family.
Whenever I felt intimidated, Senevere would hug me tightly with both arms and whisper to me that I was the result of true love and that I didn't need to care what anyone said.
I believed those words and tried to act confidently as always. But now my mother was no longer by my side, and all that was around me were whispers about how kind and good the former Empress had been, and how much suffering she had endured.
I became noticeably dispirited. My head, which I had always held upright, was now drooping like a giraffe, and my gaze naturally turned to the floor. And the servants, who had been sensitive to this change, became increasingly harsh. Since the Emperor and even Senevere paid little attention to me, it seemed that even the fear of being punished had disappeared.
To them, I was not the Princess of the empire in the first place. I was just someone who broke the heart of Bernadette, the Empress they had served with loyalty for a long time, and evidence of a dirty affair.
Every time I passed through the hallway. I could hear them babbling about me. I felt like my head was going to explode. Every time I heard them criticize me, I felt resentful and angry.
But since I was born and so many people suffered, I felt like this level of sadness was something I had to endure. But their harassment reached a level I could no longer bear.
It was about two seasons after I had entered the palace. I came down to the dining room for breakfast and was overcome by a strange sense of unease.
That day, many servants came out to attend to me. Looking at the maids lined up along the wall, I had an ominous feeling that something was about to happen.
But contrary to my expectations, the servants were polite and the table was unusually laden with food. I looked down at the silver plate as if in a trance.
The kitchen maid brought in freshly baked bread and butter instead of the hard, stale bread, and soon a roasted quail and a steaming hot stew were placed before me.
I had been eating nothing but horrible food day and night for the past few months. The sight of hot stews full of grime instead of cold, watery soups like rainwater brought me to tears in shame.
I looked around at my servants. Dozens of pairs of eyes were watching me for my reaction.
Perhaps they have no longer felt the need to punish me? So they may be ready to forgive me and be kind to me.
I lifted my spoon. Then I scooped up the steaming hot soup and put it in my mouth. The flavors of butter, milk, and various vegetables, as well as the soft sweetness, filled my mouth.
The taste of warm food, which I had not eaten in a long time, brought on a strong hunger. I forgot about my pride and ate the stew in a hurry.
How long had I been playing with my spoon? Suddenly, I felt a very strange taste. It was too strong a smell to be the meaty smell that the spices couldn't get rid of. I frowned and stared down at the stew.
Just then, a giggling laugh was heard behind me.
I turned my head sharply. The maids all had expressionless faces and lowered their eyes. But I could clearly see the corners of their mouths twitching. In an instant, sweat broke out on my back.
After hesitating for a while, I stirred the bowl with her spoon. After removing the large lumps, I saw something like a heavy chunk of meat settled at the very bottom of the concave bowl. No. It wasn't a chunk of meat.
I froze in shock as I scooped up the blackish substance with a spoon. A bloated gray rat was lying limply in the thick broth, its mouth open. Not even a scream escaped me.
I rolled off the chair and vomited the stew onto the floor. Even though I had thrown up more than I had eaten, the nausea did not stop.
The pungent smell wafting from my nose grew stronger. The taste of dead rat clung to my tongue and seemed like it would never go away.
I poked my throat with my finger, scraped my tongue, and struggled to squeeze out the vomit that was no longer coming out.
After lying on the floor like that and vomiting for a while, my vision, blurred by tears, showed a pair of feet moving around the table.
I raised my head blankly. The maid in charge of the kitchen was calmly clearing the dishes as if nothing had happened. The other servants were also busily moving around the table, clearing the dishes and wiping the table. As if they didn't even see my own figure lying on the vomit...
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