This time, Helena uncharacteristically did not give in to Lucia’s aloof attitude. She gently placed the white porcelain teacup down, the crisp clink of the cup hitting the saucer announcing that the empress had no intention of ending the conversation there.
“If there is, there is; if there isn’t, there isn’t, right? Do you hate me so much that you’re not even willing to answer my question?”
“Heh, and what if I do? Scram.”
“Fine…”
She felt the boulder that had been pressing on her chest finally crack. Though it was still heavy, at least she could breathe again. Helena’s tone became noticeably lighter; having seized control of the conversation, her mood improved considerably—even though Lucia hadn’t uttered a single word related to forgiveness.
Lucia’s gray eyes were still filled with resistance and indifference.
Lucia had no intention of forgiving her either. After all, the pain of so many years wasn’t like pencil marks on a draft page that could be erased with a single stroke.
But… Helena still felt much lighter. She had finally mustered the courage to speak up. It really was better not to run away. Yet she still hadn’t overcome the fear and guilt of nearly killing her own daughter.
Just moments ago, she had confessed the truth to Lucia.
Under the table, Helena’s legs, encased in pantyhose, were still trembling slightly.
She looked at Lucia sitting across from her.
Such a glorious young girl.
A slender but gradually maturing body. Silver hair cascaded like a waterfall, and the pure white dress outlined her lean yet increasingly womanly figure. The resemblance between them made Helena realize once again—this was her own daughter.
And yet, such a beautiful life had nearly died by her hands.
Even if Helena hadn’t had the slightest intention of killing her daughter, the fact remained unchanged: Helena had truly almost killed her.
At the time, Helena had been completely at a loss. Little Lucia was fine one second, then the next, blood started trickling from the corner of her mouth, and her body convulsed.
Lucia had always believed that Helena abandoned her because she was a defective child plagued by sickness, leaving her to live a carefree life alone.
But in reality, Helena felt that as someone who had “almost killed her daughter,” she didn’t deserve to be by her daughter’s side.
Especially in the period right after she had saved Lucia from Death’s Door.
Even though reason told Helena that a four-year-old child might not have a clear memory of such things—and indeed, Lucia didn’t remember—Helena had lost the courage to face her.
Just standing outside Lucia’s bedroom door, hand on the handle, peering through the crack at the little silver-haired baby lying in bed breathing weakly…
Helena couldn’t stop trembling.
She feared that in the next second, she might nearly kill her daughter again.
At the time, Helena had realized it was probably her own Light Magic causing some special reaction inside Lucia’s body.
But Helena was afraid.
As a former Saint with immense Light Magic, Helena’s body itself was a huge source of magical power.
Even though she tried her hardest to suppress it, like a cup filled to the brim, sometimes a single strand would uncontrollably leak out with a jolt.
Helena had never specifically learned how to control her magic to prevent it from leaking at all. She wasn’t an assassin—why would she need that? Helena thought that even if Light Magic spilled out, it wouldn’t cause any harm; in fact, it could even drive away evil spirits.
So… Helena was very helpless at the time.
What if… what if that accidentally leaked Light Magic drifted into Lucia’s body and triggered another terrifying rejection reaction?
What if she pushed her daughter back into the abyss of death?
Would she still have the courage to live in this world?
Looking at Lucia’s cold, frosty face now, Helena sometimes questioned herself in the dead of night.
Had leaving back then been a form of protection in disguise?
‘No, no, no…’
Helena shook her head bitterly inside. That was just an excuse for her own cowardice.
No matter how high-sounding the reason, abandonment was abandonment.
‘Alright, back to the main topic.’
She took a deep breath and forcibly pushed those chaotic thoughts back down.
Helena leaned forward slightly, her gray eyes locking onto Lucia’s face.
“Really nothing?”
Lucia shook her head.
“Nothing means nothing. From now on… there won’t be anything either. Whether it’s you or the emperor… after the influence you’ve both had on me, who am I supposed to love? Who am I supposed to believe?”
Lucia didn’t care about etiquette anymore.
Anyway, the atmosphere wasn’t as stiff as before the meal. She directly tapped her bowl with a spoon in protest.
“If you want to talk to me about love, about liking someone, about making me believe in love—then you two, husband and wife, should make up first, how about that? After all… isn’t your love story supposed to be heartwarming and famous all over the land?”
Having said that, Lucia lowered her head.
Her gaze fell on her foot, which had just been put back into its shoe but was already restless, trying to break free.
The pure white stocking wrapped around the delicate arch of her foot was glaringly bright against the blood-red carpet.
The sharp contrast of red and white was like her current situation—to the outside world, she was the glorious, unapproachable third imperial princess. Even if her reputation was bad, the power and life she enjoyed were both so luxurious.
But in reality?
Helena saw this and only frowned, ultimately unable to say anything. After all, it involved herself, and she knew she was in the wrong.
She lowered her eyelids and looked at the amber black tea in her cup.
The tea was calm and undisturbed, reflecting her face. The reflection looked like herself, yet also like Lucia.
Even though they hadn’t seen each other for so many years, Helena still keenly sensed something—perhaps this was evidence of the mother-daughter bond.
Or was it the sharpness of a superior? Or maybe Lucia didn’t often socialize?
Helena thought Lucia was still a bit naive.
Just now, when she had asked, “Do you have someone you like?” Lucia had been lazily leaning back in her chair, her foot in its white stocking crossed carelessly under the table, the tip of her shoe dangling a wobbly high heel, swinging back and forth. But the instant she heard the question, Lucia’s body stiffened.
Especially that foot.
The rhythmically swaying toe suddenly stopped, and the white stiletto hanging from her toes almost lost its balance because of that sudden brake.
The heel tilted sharply in the air, nearly slipping off.