(2) Poor Young Lady (1)
February, Year 210 of Ratan.
The nobles of the Western Territory, especially the women, were excited by the news that Cyrus Carha, the Duke of the Northern Territory, would soon visit Western.
Many rumors followed Cyrus, the youngest of all the Dukes, to ascend the throne.
The one that thrilled the women the most was the rumor that he was as beautiful as the moon floating majestically in the night sky.
After Cyrus's visit was announced, the Western women would chatter about him whenever they gathered.
"His face is as beautiful as a pearl."
"They say even Princess Charlotte of the Imperial Capital would bow down to the Northern Duke."
"Even in the dark, his silver hair sparkles like the moon."
"And what about his eyes? They say they're like rubies. They say even the portraits circulating in the streets can't fully capture the Northern Duke's beauty."
“I want to see the Northern Duke use ice magic. Is it true that he can create beautiful ice sculptures from nothing?”
“Magic?... If the Northern Duke were to create ice flowers just for me, I would have no regrets.”
Even the women who spoke such words knew that what they expected would never happen.
Northern Duke Cyrus, with his heavenly beauty, was renowned for his cruelty and coldness, like the ruler of hell.
“They say he killed a dancer who sneaked into the garden at night without permission.”
“ They say he always ignores Princess Charlotte’s greetings .”
“Did you know that there’s a rumor that he likes men? He always has an alchemist named Isaac with him.”
“His Majesty would like to take the Northern Duke as his son-in-law, but people like us have no chance.”
Cyrus, who had stirred up the high society of Western nobles, was already hiding in the mansion of the Duke of Bronte, a nobleman of the Western Territory.
Cyrus sat perched on a large tree within the grounds of the ducal mansion, and beside him stood Isaac, the subject of the rumor.
The weather was still chilly, so the branches were bare and leafless, but no one wandering the ducal mansion noticed them.
Cyrus sat comfortably on a thick branch, his gaze coldly focused on a window.
His eyes, observing the figure within, were utterly cold and sharp, as if they could slash and kill with just a glance. Isaac, whose gaze, unlike Cyrus's, was filled with excitement, spoke up.
"Is that child the daughter of the Eastern Duke and Rachel? She's a mess, but she's beautiful. If you look closely, she even resembles the Eastern Duke."
Cyrus, who had stirred up the high society of Western nobles, was already hiding in the mansion of the Duke of Bronte, a nobleman of the Western Territory.
Cyrus sat perched on a large tree within the grounds of the ducal mansion, and beside him stood Isaac, the subject of the rumor.
The weather was still chilly, so the branches were bare and leafless, but no one wandering the ducal mansion noticed them.
Cyrus sat comfortably on a thick branch, his gaze coldly focused on a window.
His eyes, observing the figure within, were utterly cold and sharp, as if they could slash and kill with just a glance. Isaac, whose gaze, unlike Cyrus's, was filled with excitement, spoke up.
"Is that child the daughter of the Eastern Duke and Rachel? She's a mess, but she's beautiful. If you look closely, she even resembles the Eastern Duke."
"..."
"Anyway, she's pitiful. If she had remained in the East, she would have been a Princess. To think she's being treated like this in the West... The Duchess of Bronte is truly cruel. Would she do that to her own daughter?"
As Isaac had said, the young girl beyond the window looked pitiful.
Her hair was disheveled from a lack of washing, her body emaciated from starvation. The only maid's outfit she wore was so small that her arms and legs were exposed.
Her room, a single desk, lacked a bed, and she had been confined there for days, unable to leave.
Her daily routine consisted of briefly gazing outside through the locked window or eating the meals that arrived every other day.
A person would naturally feel pity, but Cyrus's eyes, watching her, were filled with coldness.
Isaac turned to Cyrus, his master and longtime friend.
"Even if she's the daughter of a man who might be the sworn enemy of your parents, she's innocent. What does she know? She doesn't seem to have enough to eat."
"Anyway, she's pitiful. If she had remained in the East, she would have been a Princess. To think she's being treated like this in the West... The Duchess of Bronte is truly cruel. Would she do that to her own daughter?"
As Isaac had said, the young girl beyond the window looked pitiful.
Her hair was disheveled from a lack of washing, her body emaciated from starvation. The only maid's outfit she wore was so small that her arms and legs were exposed.
Her room, a single desk, lacked a bed, and she had been confined there for days, unable to leave.
Her daily routine consisted of briefly gazing outside through the locked window or eating the meals that arrived every other day.
A person would naturally feel pity, but Cyrus's eyes, watching her, were filled with coldness.
Isaac turned to Cyrus, his master and longtime friend.
"Even if she's the daughter of a man who might be the sworn enemy of your parents, she's innocent. What does she know? She doesn't seem to have enough to eat."
"I don't know."
For the first time, an expression appeared on Cyrus' face.
His red lips curved into a cool curve.
"It's not like she doesn't know anything."
Cyrus's impression of her was different from Isaac's.
On the surface, she seemed deserving of pity, but a closer look revealed otherwise.
Her indifferent gaze, unusual for a sixteen-year-old girl, her expression unwavering even in the face of the maid's rudeness as she brought food, and the occasional glances out the window gave her an inexplicable aura.
Just being the daughter of the Eastern Duke and Rachel was already unsettling, but her childish demeanor only made Cyrus's mood even more uneasy.
Her sapphire-like, sparkling blue eyes seemed to hold something Cyrus could never fathom.
"Oh..."
Isaac sighed.
"That maid is heading to Ariana's room again, carrying food waste."
The room was empty, save for a desk and not even a bed.
Ariana sat upright on the dining chair, wrapped in a worn blanket.
With her light blue hair, a small, pale face, elegantly curved eyebrows, and large eyes, deep pupils like a lake, a small, upright nose, and round, red lips, she had the youthful appearance of a sixteen-year-old girl, but her gaze belied that.
Those eyes were etched with a hatred and pain that made it impossible to believe she belonged in a sixteen-year-old noblewoman.
Ariana glared at the desk before her with cold eyes, but what she saw reflected in those eyes was something else.
The painful days of struggling to be loved, only to be exploited, and then death.
'Has it been four days already?'
Ariana couldn't quite grasp what had happened.
The rough feeling of the rope around her neck was still vivid, but when she opened her eyes, she was back twelve years ago.
Twelve years ago, when she was locked in her room, falsely accused of stealing her mother Rachel's necklace.
She was confused and bewildered, but those feelings quickly subsided.
The time spent pondering why this had happened was fleeting.
Whatever the cause, Ariana was returned to twelve years ago, and given another chance to live.
"It was a mistake for you to be born, Ariana."
They denied Ariana's existence, but someone allowed her to live once more.
'Then I will live.'
A cold smile formed on Ariana's lips, then disappeared.
'I will make you regret giving birth to me, regretting that I have lived this long.'
Ariana clenched her hands in her lap.
She heard the sound of a maid walking down the hallway.
Ariana knew what would happen today... her past life.
For the first time, an expression appeared on Cyrus' face.
His red lips curved into a cool curve.
"It's not like she doesn't know anything."
Cyrus's impression of her was different from Isaac's.
On the surface, she seemed deserving of pity, but a closer look revealed otherwise.
Her indifferent gaze, unusual for a sixteen-year-old girl, her expression unwavering even in the face of the maid's rudeness as she brought food, and the occasional glances out the window gave her an inexplicable aura.
Just being the daughter of the Eastern Duke and Rachel was already unsettling, but her childish demeanor only made Cyrus's mood even more uneasy.
Her sapphire-like, sparkling blue eyes seemed to hold something Cyrus could never fathom.
"Oh..."
Isaac sighed.
"That maid is heading to Ariana's room again, carrying food waste."
***
The room was empty, save for a desk and not even a bed.
Ariana sat upright on the dining chair, wrapped in a worn blanket.
With her light blue hair, a small, pale face, elegantly curved eyebrows, and large eyes, deep pupils like a lake, a small, upright nose, and round, red lips, she had the youthful appearance of a sixteen-year-old girl, but her gaze belied that.
Those eyes were etched with a hatred and pain that made it impossible to believe she belonged in a sixteen-year-old noblewoman.
Ariana glared at the desk before her with cold eyes, but what she saw reflected in those eyes was something else.
The painful days of struggling to be loved, only to be exploited, and then death.
'Has it been four days already?'
Ariana couldn't quite grasp what had happened.
The rough feeling of the rope around her neck was still vivid, but when she opened her eyes, she was back twelve years ago.
Twelve years ago, when she was locked in her room, falsely accused of stealing her mother Rachel's necklace.
She was confused and bewildered, but those feelings quickly subsided.
The time spent pondering why this had happened was fleeting.
Whatever the cause, Ariana was returned to twelve years ago, and given another chance to live.
"It was a mistake for you to be born, Ariana."
They denied Ariana's existence, but someone allowed her to live once more.
'Then I will live.'
A cold smile formed on Ariana's lips, then disappeared.
'I will make you regret giving birth to me, regretting that I have lived this long.'
Ariana clenched her hands in her lap.
She heard the sound of a maid walking down the hallway.
Ariana knew what would happen today... her past life.
Ariana simply cried. Saddened by her mother's refusal to know the truth, terrified of disappointing her, terrified of the late-night darkness without even the light of a lamp. Then, when Helena's maid, Luigi, brought her spoiled food, she refused to eat it and was beaten.
Today, in her past life, was the same. Luigi brought a plate of discarded food from the kitchen, and Ariana refused to eat it, saying the rotten smell was so repulsive. Luigi kept trying to feed her the food, and Ariana's protests grew louder. Just then, Madam Bronte, passing by in the hallway, saw the scene and asked what was happening. Rachel, who was with Madam Bronte, gently placed a hand on her arm and said in a worried voice, "She stole my necklace, and I made her stay in her room for a while, Mother. I told her to eat with the maids while she reflected on her actions, but she still stubbornly refuses to reflect on her actions."
If Rachel's words were true, it wasn't an excessive punishment at all. After all, being locked in one's room, eating a worse meal than usual, and writing a reflection paper after committing something as bad as stealing was part of every family's training. Madam Bronte believed Rachel, but Ariana resisted.
“No, Mother. I didn’t steal the necklace. I really don’t!”
That was the call. Rachel’s necklace had been found deep in Ariana’s only desk drawer, where someone had placed it (probably Luigi). Old Lady Bronte, concerned with public opinion, reputation, and the etiquette and behavior of a noblewoman, was furious and had Luigi beat Ariana. Ariana cried, denying the theft, even as her maid beat her calves. Furious at Ariana’s lack of remorse, Old Lady Bronte ordered her to be imprisoned for another week.
That night, when Ariana collapsed from exhaustion from crying, Rachel came to visit. Rachel looked down at Ariana and said,
“Ariana, I am truly disappointed in you today. Even if you didn’t steal it, sisters should know how to forgive each other. I hoped you would care for your sister...”
The one who said Ariana stole Rachel's necklace was Helena. Rachel hoped Ariana would cover it up even if Helena lied. Ariana did not want to disappoint her mother, so she immediately knelt and begged for forgiveness.
"I'm sorry, Mother. It was my fault. Please don't be disappointed in me."
A coldness settled in Ariana's blue eyes as she recalled that day.
'How foolish. What could I possibly do to disappoint a woman like that?'
Eastern Territory, which had contributed greatly to the founding of the Cameria Empire, was the most trusted by the Emperor among the vassal states of the East, West, South, and North. The current Emperor, in particular, trusted and cherished the current Eastern Duke, so the Western Duke played a trick to sow discord between the Eastern Duke and the Emperor.
He married his daughter, Rachel, to the Eastern Duke.
Rachel already had a man she loved, but as the Princess of the West, she had no choice but to marry a man she didn't love for the sake of the West.
'She must have given birth to me to avoid suspicion.'
The Eastern Duke married Rachel to reconcile with the West, but he likely didn't completely dispel his suspicions.
Rachel gained the Eastern Duke's trust by becoming pregnant and passed on information about the Western Duke.
As soon as she passed on useful information, Rachel divorced the Eastern Duke and returned to the West, where the Western Duke used the information to successfully distance the Emperor and the Eastern Duke.
"I never wanted to give birth to you."
"I wish I had died while I was pregnant."
Even as she listened to those words, as if she were being brainwashed, Ariana believed that her mother would one day love her.
If she did well, worked hard, and proved useful, then she would love her.
It was a foolish belief.
Rachel found joy in tormenting Ariana, who resembled the Eastern Duke.
The woman he called mother had never once considered her as her daughter.
'To accept that fact only after death.'
Thinking back now, it was a foolish act worthy of death.
Clank—clank—
The sound of the lock opening outside the door was heard.
Ariana wiped away the eyes that had burned with piercing resentment and stared calmly at the door.
The door opened without knocking, and Luigi entered, carrying a tray. The moment she entered, the smell of rotten food wafted in.
In her past life, hadn't Old Lady Bronte smelled the rotten stench that had filled this room?
'The old lady probably knew. She just wanted to pretend not to know. But...'
Ariana calmly observed the dirty food scraps Luigi brought in front of her.
'Can I pretend not to know this time, too?'
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