kscans

Chapter 24 - The Life of a Certain Marquis's Daughter (Part 3)

Though fifteen years had passed, the love that had budded that day easily found him in the large crowd. At a royal ball, Emeralda spotted his figure from afar and her heart soared.

The day has finally come.

But he did not act as Emeralda had imagined.

In her fantasy, just as she had instantly found him, he too would spot her at a glance, be astonished, and kneel before the beautiful and wonderful lady she had become, offering his praise and his love.

When nothing happened, Emeralda was disappointed, but at the same time, she awoke from her overly inflated sweet dream and regained her composure.

On reflection, it was unlikely that he would remember a little girl he met at a children’s tea party he had been dragged to by his sister. He must have met countless people at social gatherings over the years.

So Emeralda resolved to approach him herself. For a woman to initiate a romance was unladylike behavior, but her feelings were too strong to give up, and they made her bold.

That day, a ball was held at the residence of a noblewoman with whom Emeralda was acquainted.

Though small in scale, it was a ball hosted by a noble family that also had connections with his mother. The hostess had informed her that he had accepted the invitation.

Emeralda took a leap of faith, confessed her long-unrequited love to the hostess, and begged her to arrange for them to speak alone, if only for a few short moments.

The hostess, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of a love affair, happily agreed to Emeralda’s request.

Allen, on the other hand, was suspicious of the noblewoman he was asked to meet by the hostess of the ball he was attending.

As Emeralda had predicted, Allen did not remember her at all, and his attitude was naturally distant.

"It is only natural that you do not remember, my lord. I was but six years old, and for you, it was merely a tiresome tea party of children you were obliged to attend for your sister’s sake. However, even though it was but a single meeting, the words we exchanged before the pond of blooming lotuses became something I could never forget. The wisdom you shared—that the lotus flower is like a lady among ladies—is what guided me to become who I am today."

At Emeralda’s words, Allen finally dredged up a faint, old memory.

"I see, you were the girl from that time."

Word of the wife of the Farisael heir had, from time to time, reached even Allen, who kept his distance from the central government.

They said she was a chaste woman, skilled in society, who never fell for mischievous or improper advances, gracefully deflecting them with clever words that never offended.

They said her knowledge was so vast that even the most influential elders were sometimes left speechless, yet her modest demeanor, always taking a step or two back, was hailed as the very model of a lady.

They said her proud beauty had rejected even His Majesty, and that not a few were captivated by her.

Knowing that she had so sincerely taken to heart the playful words he had spoken when he was but an immature boy, Allen was genuinely moved.

He offered a soft smile, and Emeralda’s spirits soared in turn.

"From that day forward, I have striven single-mindedly to become a lady worthy of you. Please, take pity on me."

Had Allen been an ordinary nobleman, he would have been completely captivated.

But Allen was not.

Precisely because he had just been moved, Emeralda’s confession of love felt like a betrayal.

After a moment of stunned silence, Allen’s face became a perfect mask as he delivered his rejection.

"My apologies, but having spent so long on the frontier, I seem to have become a boor who no longer understands courtly elegance. I am afraid I do not know what you mean. On the frontier, a lady is one who is faithful to her husband, one who concerns herself with the people’s bread for tomorrow rather than indulging in the graceful games of love and intrigue. And I shall continue to walk the path of a boor on the frontier, alongside my wife, a Lady of the Frontier."

As if to say any further conversation would be unpleasant, Allen left the room, leaving Emeralda to stare, dumbfounded, at his retreating back.

Her first love had never had a future. No matter what she did, it was something she could never have obtained.

Worst of all was the contempt in Allen’s eyes, which plunged Emeralda into the depths of despair.

In her grief, Emeralda took to her bed for several days. Afterward, she began to throw tantrums and take her frustrations out on her handmaidens, acting out in ways unthinkable for the woman she had once been.

Rumors of Emeralda and Allen’s encounter leaked from the hostess who had arranged it, and whispers, embellished with amusing and fantastical details, spread secretly through high society.

To make matters worse, foolish men began to approach her, thinking the unattainable flower was perhaps cheaper than they thought, forcing her to withdraw from the social scene. Confined to her home, Emeralda grew increasingly depressed and withdrawn.

Fortunately, Allen returned to the frontier within a month, and the rumors soon died down.

Then came an unexpected reaction from her husband.

"I always thought you were a flawless, perfect lady, but it seems you have a cute side to you as well."

Her older husband, a veteran of love and play with several mistresses of his own, had found his wife—good for display but otherwise boring—to have an unexpected side. Her love and heartbreak intrigued him, and he began to cherish Emeralda as if she were a new lover.

A man skilled in love is also skilled in handling women, and Emeralda, who had been devoted to her first love, had no resistance to his experienced techniques. Moreover, his gentle words easily seeped into her heart, wounded by a harsh rejection.

Her husband’s sweet words, which helped her regain her confidence as a woman, healed her and gave her a chance to recover.

He, in turn, found Emeralda’s unjaded, innocent reactions endearing.

Thus, Emeralda was taught the joy of being loved by her husband, and the fulfilling days as both a wife and a woman gradually turned her pain and scars into things of the past.

The seasons turned.

By the time she heard rumors that Allen, who had since been promoted to general, had his first child, her heart was healed enough that the news caused only a slight ripple. It was around then that Emeralda became pregnant with her second child.

Just as her husband inherited his title, making her the Marquise Farisael, she renewed her resolve to manage the Farisael household alongside him as its lady. Blessed with children, she was at the peak of happiness, fulfilled in both her public and private life.

It was then that the concubine from the neighboring country became pregnant. Emeralda was summoned to serve as the royal governess for the expected prince or princess.

The events of that day were like a nightmare.

Though she was a governess, a royal governess was a high-ranking noblewoman and thus did not breastfeed.

Her official duties would only begin when the princess turned two, so it was arranged for her to simply have an audience with the infant. On the day she went to the palace, about three months after the princess’s birth, it was a perfectly ordinary, peaceful spring day.

Her audience with the princess, who was breathing soundly, and the beautiful but delicate, almost childlike concubine, went off without a hitch.

But afterward, she was told there were still procedures to complete and was asked to wait in a room. She felt a sense of unease.

Something was wrong.

Even as she felt it, a part of her thought, surely not.

A royal governess was an honorable position. To defile it would be…

But her anxiety proved true, and her faint hope was dashed.

The king who appeared in the room told her it was a promised reward for her husband.

Before the tyrannical king, it was easy to imagine that her husband could not say no.

And Emeralda, too, could not resist.

And so, nightmare was piled upon nightmare.

It happened in the dead of night.

Exhausted and her tears run dry, Emeralda lay next to the king, who was sleeping soundly, snoring with satisfaction.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open with a crash. The sound of multiple footsteps echoed, and then a groan came from beside her.

Shivering, unable to comprehend what was happening, Emeralda was illuminated by the light of a lamp.

And there stood the man who was supposed to be in the frontier lands.

"…Lord Allen?"

"So the glorious royal governess has fallen so low as to become a whore."

With those words spat out, the man unhesitatingly cut off the head of the king, who was already a corpse. Lukewarm blood showered Emeralda without mercy.

Unable even to scream, frozen in terror and despair, unable to blink, Emeralda was abandoned.

Literally abandoned.

What Emeralda did not know was that the king’s debauchery had pushed the people to their breaking point. Their anger, swollen to the verge of explosion, had justified this atrocity.

To the men who harbored a deep-seated hatred for the king, his mistress was nothing more than an object to be violated.

She was perhaps lucky that her life was spared.

Somehow, Emeralda managed to strip the clothes from a dead handmaiden in the hallway and compose herself.

What sustained her was the last shred of her pride as a governess, and a desperate desire to see her husband and children.

The princes were surely far more important than the newborn princess. Clinging to the hope that it might not be too late, Emeralda made her way toward the princess’s chambers, avoiding the rioters.

The princess’s room was silent.

The nannies and wet nurses who should have been there were gone.

She despaired, thinking she was too late, but then she heard a tiny sound, like the mewling of a kitten.

The infant had been hidden in a cupboard, placed in a basket. Beside it was a beautifully crafted letter box.

After checking its contents, Emeralda hid it in her undergarments, then stripped the expensive swaddling from the baby and wrapped it in a cloth torn from a sheet.

Feigning that the baby was her own, Emeralda posed as the wife of a lower-ranking noble who had been summoned to the castle to breastfeed, and managed to escape. She was in such a wretched state that she no longer looked like a marquise, and her desperate attempt to protect her child seemed genuine, so she was allowed to pass.

But from there, the nightmare continued. The streets of the capital were in a terrible uproar, with armed mobs attacking noble mansions everywhere.

Emeralda, unaccustomed to traveling on foot, got lost trying to avoid the rioters. At her wits’ end, she spotted the sign of a high-end shop that served the royal family. Not being a direct target of the people’s hatred, and protected by several burly guards, it had not yet been attacked.

Thus, she was taken in by the merchant, but was strictly warned not to leave her hiding place until the situation stabilized, and she had no choice but to obey. Thoughts of her husband and children nearly drove her mad, but the precious life of the princess in her hands sustained her.

But the nightmare brought with it yet another nightmare.

A new king was crowned, having slain the foolish king who had needlessly tormented the people and brought the country to ruin.

Many nobles were executed as agents of the foolish king, their heads put on display.

Among them was Emeralda’s husband.

Her parents were there, too, and her parents-in-law.

Though their heads were not among those displayed, she was told that her children had also died, failing to escape from their burning mansion.

All that was left for Emeralda was an infant who knew nothing, crying daily and drinking milk.

And a hatred that blotted out every other emotion.

Ever since that night, Emeralda had been living in a nightmare.

The rolling head of the king stared at her reproachfully.

Her husband’s displayed head wept tears of blood.

She could hear the cries of her children, engulfed in flames.

The demon-like man scorned her as a whore, and vulgar men violated her.

What about the people?

What about the country?

A country and a people that would condone such atrocities are no different from devils.

This is wrong. It must be. Otherwise, this world is nothing but hell.

For Emeralda, the princess was no longer a venerable person to be protected, but merely a tool to exact her revenge.

Emeralda hated men, hated love and romance, and hated the very state of the world with all her being.

After continuing to hate for so long, Emeralda fell ill. In her hazy consciousness, she thought that the nightmare would finally end, and she longed for the salvation of death.

And then, she finally saw the pitiful girl standing by her side.

The screams of her own children, the blood-crying head of her husband—she could no longer hear or see them now. The voice of the demon reviling her was also gone.

It was quiet.

Seeing the girl, who showed not even a hint of sadness, Emeralda felt nothing.

She thought the girl was pitiful.

This girl who still had to live on in this hell.

But it was no more than thinking that red blood was red.

Nothing could stir Emeralda’s heart anymore.

Even hatred was now distant.

There were no words left to leave.

Everything in this world was a nightmare, not worth leaving any thoughts behind.

Emeralda closed her eyes.

And just like that, she surrendered everything to the dark abyss.