Translator: Nox

Chapter 10

10

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After the massive uproar, Talia began to spend all her time confined within the Separate Palace.

However, the maids, who gossiped incessantly as if they had never been mutes, soon provided her with the truth: the boy who had assaulted her was the Crown Prince of the Empire and her half-brother. And the black-haired girl she had seen that day in the birch forest was her half-sister…

She also learned that it had been less than six months since the two had lost their mother.

That meant Senevia and Talia had entered the Imperial Palace a mere three weeks after the death of the former Empress, Bernadette.

Furthermore, as soon as Senevia entered the palace, she had erased every single trace of the former Empress.

It occurred to Talia that perhaps the small garden behind the Main Palace was a remnant of Bernadette that her mother hadn’t managed to remove yet.

She looked out the window.

Summer rain was pouring down over the garden her mother had so meticulously decorated. The plants, soaked with moisture and emitting a heavy scent of grass, felt like hideous monsters to her.

She drew the curtains over the window. Curling up on her bed, she recalled the Crown Prince’s eyes filled with hatred and the face of her half-sister, which had turned white with terror. And the blue-eyed boy who had held her protectively, glaring at Talia…

“Barkas Raedgo Siyeokan…”

She stared blankly at the ceiling and muttered his name.

She had finally learned the boy’s name, but it didn’t bring her the slightest joy. She realized he would never smile at her.

The former Empress Bernadette was from the Marquis Oristein family, one of Osiria’s most prestigious houses, but her mother had been a noblewoman from the Siyeokan family. This meant the deceased Empress and Barkas were distant relatives.

Moreover, Bernadette had looked after Barkas with great care when he first entered the Imperial Palace at a young age to begin his rigorous training. He likely viewed Senevia as a mortal enemy.

‘And me, too…’

Recalling the cold eyes that had looked her way, she felt resentful for the first time about being Senevia’s daughter. Even her appearance, which she had always been proud of for resembling her mother, now felt like a mark of shame.

Talia didn’t want to feel this way.

I’m the one who was beaten so horribly, so why do I have to feel guilty?

The Crown Prince was the one who did something wrong.

I really didn’t know anything. What did I do wrong? I’m not bad. I didn’t do anything bad.

Talia repeated these thoughts to herself endlessly. But whenever she was surrounded by the cold gazes of the servants, such thoughts vanished without a trace.

Talia understood perfectly the meaning behind their harsh treatment of her.

Bringing ice-cold bathwater and scrubbing her skin so roughly it turned red; subtly pricking her skin with pins whenever they changed her clothes; brushing her hair so violently it wounded her scalp; serving her cold, congealed food at every meal… These were all the punishments they saw fit to inflict upon her.

She knew she was hated. However, it hadn’t been much different when she lived with the Taren family, so she hadn’t paid it much mind.

Whenever she had felt cowed, Senevia would pull her into a tight embrace and whisper that she was the product of true love, and that she didn’t need to care what anyone else said.

Talia had believed those words and tried to act with confidence. But now, her mother was not by her side, and her surroundings were filled with nothing but whispers of how kind and virtuous the former Empress had been, and how much pain she had endured before she died.

Talia became visibly despondent. Her head, which she used to hold high and straight, now shrunk back like a turtle’s, and her gaze naturally drifted to the floor. The servants, sensing this change with keen sensitivity, became increasingly cruel. Since neither the Emperor nor Senevia paid her much attention, any fear of being punished for their actions seemed to have vanished.

To them, Talia was never an Imperial Princess. She was merely the being who had broken the heart of the Empress they had served with loyalty for so long—the evidence of a sordid affair.

Every time she walked down the corridors, Talia could hear them whispering about her. She felt like she was going lose her mind. Every time she heard their accusations, she felt a sense of injustice and resentment.

Yet, hearing that so many people had suffered because she was born, she felt as though she ought to endure this level of sorrow. But their harassment eventually reached a level she could no longer bear.

It was about two seasons after she had entered the Imperial Palace. When Talia went down to the dining room for breakfast, she was overcome by a strange sense of unease.

That day, an unusually large number of servants were present to wait on her. Seeing the maids lined up against the walls gave her an ominous premonition that something was about to happen.

However, contrary to her expectations, the servants were polite, and the table was laden with an exceptional amount of food. Talia stared at the silver plates as if possessed.

Instead of stale, hard bread, a kitchen maid brought out freshly baked, golden-brown bread and butter. Soon after, roasted quail and a steaming hot stew were placed before her.

She had eaten nothing but dreadfully poor food for the past several months. Seeing the hot stew filled with ingredients instead of the watery, rain-cold soup she was used to, she felt a humiliating urge to cry.

Talia glanced around at the servants. Dozens of pairs of eyes were watching for her reaction.

Maybe they don’t want to punish me anymore? Maybe they’ve decided to forgive my existence and show me kindness.

Talia picked up her spoon. She scooped up the steaming hot liquid and put it in her mouth. The flavors of butter, milk, and various vegetables, along with a gentle sweetness, spread across her palate.

The taste of warm food, something she hadn’t had in a long time, triggered an intense hunger. Forgetting her dignity, she began to eat the stew ravenously.

After a few moments of working her spoon, she suddenly noticed a very strange taste. It was a scent too foul to be the gaminess of meat that spices couldn’t mask. She furrowed her brow and stared intently at the stew.

At that moment, she heard the sound of snickering from behind her.

Talia whipped her head around. The maids all had their eyes downcast with expressionless faces. But Talia could clearly see the corners of their mouths twitching. In an instant, a cold sweat broke out down her spine.

After hesitating for a long time, Talia began to poke through the bowl with her spoon. When she moved aside the large chunks of food, she saw something heavy, like a piece of meat, sunk at the very bottom of the deep bowl. No. It wasn’t a piece of meat.

Talia froze in shock as she lifted the dark object with her spoon. A gray rat, bloated from the thick broth, lay limp with its mouth agape. She couldn’t even scream.

She tumbled out of her chair and threw up the stew onto the floor. Even after vomiting up more than she had eaten, the retching wouldn’t stop.

The foul stench in her nose grew stronger. It felt as if the taste of the dead rat was stuck to the tip of her tongue and would never go away.

She shoved her fingers down her throat and scraped at her tongue, struggling to squeeze out vomit that was no longer there.

As she lay prone on the floor retching, her tear-blurred vision caught sight of a pair of feet moving around the table.

Talia blankly raised her head. The maid in charge of the kitchen was calmly clearing the plates as if nothing had happened. Other servants busied themselves moving around the table, clearing dishes and wiping down the surface. It was as if they couldn’t even see her, collapsed there in her own vomit…