In the end, Lucia also chose a relatively free way of life. Of course, with freedom came a poor reputation.
“If Her Highness Lucia were to become Emperor, wouldn’t she be the first tyrant in the Empire’s history?” That included commoners—everyone said so. Because she was often expressionless from constant pain, because of her occasional outbursts of irritability and gloom, everyone was terrified of this imperial princess who could go mad at any moment. In the end, everyone was so scared that they gave up on that possibility.
Of course, Lucia herself was the one who had given up from the very beginning. The Second Prince had also promised her that once he became Emperor, he wouldn’t bother her, she could do whatever she wanted, and he wouldn’t need her to do any work. As long as she didn’t commit any crime like treason, she was free to do as she pleased. Even if she did nothing at all, the Second Prince would support her for the rest of her life without marrying.
But what about Helena?
Lucia looked at her face, which maintained a holy smile. Helena not only had a healthy body, but also a happy original family. As the youngest daughter of the Merchant Guild, she was cherished by her parents since childhood, never suffering or experiencing hardship. Of course, later in her “pure love story” with the Emperor, she did endure a lot of suffering, but even so, the kindness cultivated by her happy childhood was still not distorted. It could be seen from her naive way of thinking in her youth and her overflowing empathy. That was a privilege only a flower carefully nurtured could possess.
And Lucia… she only inherited Helena’s appearance and magic power, but she alone did not inherit that health and happiness. She was like a weed growing in a crack in the wall, desperately absorbing a tiny bit of rain and dew, growing twisted and thorny. How could such a Lucia grow a heart that was healthy, gentle, and loving to the world like Helena?
Lucia wanted that too. She also wanted a healthy body, to run around in pretty little skirts and shoes when she was still a child, getting into trouble everywhere, and being looked at by those around her with doting yet helpless eyes. Instead of curling up in her room, wrapped in a blanket, crying, enduring pain, with no one to help her. She also wanted not to be disliked by her parents, to see her parents sitting together in harmony.
These things that Helena took for granted, Lucia had never enjoyed any of them. These three points… at least her two older brothers… had enjoyed them when they were children. Before Helena and the Emperor had completely fallen out, those two brothers were once gently held in Helena’s arms and told stories, right? After all, the two of them didn’t have Lucia’s affliction. The First Prince inherited Helena’s light magic, and the Second Prince inherited Ian’s fire magic. Only Lucia inherited both, and was tormented day and night. Perhaps that was why those two brothers grew up so outstanding, so normal.
Only her. Only she, who looked the most like Helena, was the discarded defective product.
Lucia felt a surge of irritation. Her dangling foot under the table hooked the heel of her shoe forcefully. The white high heel swayed in the air, its sharpness as if wanting to pierce through all this anger and resentment. To say she didn’t long for motherly love would be a lie. The more Lucia thought this way, the more displeased she felt.
She slightly raised her eyelids, her gaze crossing the table and landing on Mia, who was directly across. That woman with a voluptuous figure was currently maintaining perfect dining etiquette, elegantly bringing beef to her mouth. Watching Mia’s radiant, well-nourished appearance, Lucia found it glaring. That position should have been hers. That motherly love should have been hers. But Mia had replaced her.
Lucia lowered her eyes, looking at the dishes on her plate. Back when she was a child, when she was in so much pain she rolled on the bed but could only endure it alone, she had already been forced to accept this cruel fact.
Just then, Helena’s voice abruptly rang out, forcibly pulling Lucia’s thoughts back to reality.
“Lucia, you’ve suffered these past years. I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you.”
Lucia’s fingers gripping the spoon tightened abruptly. ‘Of all times, now? Right when my mind is churning, recalling those days and nights of being abandoned, recalling countless moments of longing for motherly love… At this time, she apologizes to me?’
Lucia did not answer immediately. She slightly turned her face, glancing at Mia across from her. The knife and fork in Mia’s hands were still moving, but the rhythm of cutting the steak had clearly slowed. Those plump thighs wrapped in shiny black stockings had stopped swaying under the table, and the emerald gem high heels that had been gently tapping the floor also quieted down. Probably… she was eavesdropping? But that made sense. If she deliberately stopped moving to listen, it would be too embarrassing and disrespectful. Mia was a smart woman. As an adopted daughter, she knew her place.
“Heh…” Lucia let out a light laugh and turned her head away. Her legs, tightly bound in white lace stockings, forcefully crossed under the table. Due to her emotional agitation, she subconsciously crossed her legs.
“What do you have to apologize to me for, Your Majesty the Empress? You are the Empress, with countless things to keep you busy. The commoners you need to care for are too numerous to count. Even at this moment, countless people are suffering.” Lucia drew out her tone. “As the great former Saint, shouldn’t you be off saving those suffering commoners? Rather than wasting time on this meaningless dinner.”
Lucia extended her finger and lightly tapped the side of the wine glass, producing a crisp “ding” sound.
“After all, the cost of this meal could buy a lot of bread that commoners depend on to survive.”
Helena’s face turned a few shades paler. She lowered her head, silver hair falling to cover her expression: “I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you.”
Even as Helena lowered her head, Lucia didn’t feel much relief in her heart. She only felt that it was too late. Lucia was already eighteen years old. In the Empire, one came of age at sixteen. To come apologize now, after she had stumbled through growing up, after she had learned to endure pain alone, after she had become self-sufficient and even accustomed to loneliness?
It was like bringing the best bottle of medicine to a wound that had already scabbed, festered, and finally rotted into dead flesh. What use was it?
Could those painful childhood years be healed because of this belated apology? Could those nights of tossing and turning in pain from magic power be simply wiped away? Did Lucia also have to be like that overly kind Helena? To be gentle to those who had spoken harshly to her, and even go so far as to save those who hurt her?
Pain is pain, and being hurt is being hurt. This scar was carved into her bones; she would never forget it!
Lucia had no intention of forgiving Helena.