Ch#55
Floating through the fragments of her memories as if drifting on a cloud, Thalia slowly returned to reality.
As she lifted her heavy eyelids, the flickering light of a candle entered her vision.
While she stared blankly at it, her hazy senses gradually grew sharp.
Enveloped in a strange sense of emptiness, she slowly pushed her upper body up.
For a while, she couldn’t recognize where she was.
Only after a few seconds passed did she realize she was lying in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed.
As Thalia scanned the luxuriously decorated bedroom with hollow eyes, she suddenly felt a foreign sensation and looked down.
Her two legs were exposed beneath her short undergarments.
No. They couldn’t be her legs.
There was no way something so hideous could be attached to her body.
With trembling hands, she reached out to touch her knees, which were bumpy as if coated in congealed candle wax.
The shape of her legs was off.
The direction of her shins and kneecaps was slightly twisted, and across her pale skin, stiff, rough scars spread wide like tree bark.
Tracing the long scars that ran from her calves to her knees and up to her thighs—like cracks in broken porcelain—Thalia soon began to claw at them with her fingertips.
It felt as though if she could just peel away these lumpy stains covering her skin, her original flesh, which once shimmered like pearls, would be revealed.
Ignoring the stinging pain, she obsessively tore at the dark red, swollen marks. Crimson blood began to trickle down.
As she stared down at it with a look of utter despair, she heard a creak from somewhere.
Thalia jerked her head up and her eyes widened as she discovered Senebier sitting diagonally in a velvet-lined chair.
The Empress, who had been watching her intently with blue eyes that shone clearly even in the darkness, parted her blood-red lips and let out a sweet, melodic voice.
“Must you insist on gouging open a wound I took such pains to heal? It is quite a hassle to call the healers back again.”
She set the small booklet she had been holding onto the table and furrowed her fine brows.
Thalia, watching her without so much as a blink, moved her parched lips.
“What… what did you do to my body?”
At the distrustful question, the Empress’s eyes widened slightly before curving into crescents.
Letting out a soft laugh as if she had heard a funny joke, Senebier shook her head and spoke.
“That hardly seems like something to say to the mother who went so far as to summon the ‘Eternal Clan’ to try and treat you.”
“….”
“Don’t look at me like that. I know you distrust me… but for once, even I did everything I could for you. It is disappointing to me as well that the result is only this much.”
Her snake-like gaze crawled slowly down Thalia’s body and settled on the blood-beaded scars.
Thalia hurriedly pulled the blanket over her to hide her legs. Her fingertips trembled at the gaze that looked as if it were viewing something repulsive.
The Empress continued with a small sigh.
“I thought about taking it up with them, but it seems they did their best in their own way. They spoke passionately about how it was a miracle you recovered this much, considering not just the bone, but the muscles and nerves were partially damaged.”
Toward her daughter, who was on the verge of collapsing from shock, the Empress continued speaking with an eerily calm demeanor.
“It seems they couldn’t do anything about the scarring either. They said they tried incising the wounded area several times and reapplying magic, but even then, those hideous scars regenerated exactly as they were. Likely, the skin tissue underwent a transformation because the wound was left neglected for too long.”
A shallow sigh escaped her lips.
“Even so, I can hardly blame the palace healers. If they had closed the wound immediately, your skin might have been cleaner than it is now, but you would have lost the use of your legs forever. Still, they say you can at least walk now, so we must take comfort in that.”
The words pouring out so indifferently felt like iron skewers raking through her insides.
As Thalia sat frozen in a daze, Senebier drove the final nail in.
“It truly is a pity.”
Thalia slowly lowered her head.
Watching her with a contemplative gaze, Senebier rose from her chair and stepped toward her. Soft fingers scented with flowers touched Thalia’s cheek.
“Thalia. Do you remember when I told you once that being beautiful and weak makes one a target for plunder?”
Thalia struggled to meet her eyes through her blurred vision.
The face that looked as if it had been exquisitely crafted from pearls, gold, and sapphires blurred and distorted through her tears.
The Empress continued tenderly, as if telling an old fairy tale.
“Then, what do you think happens to those who are weak and hideous?”
“….”
“The hideous, you see, become objects of ridicule and contempt. They don’t even qualify as targets for plunder. They are simply trampled upon, mocked, and ostracized for no reason. Because humans have a habit of constantly searching for something to hate and despise just to prove their own superiority. Having a flaw means becoming excellent prey for such people.”
Thalia tried desperately not to cry, but a harsh sob finally forced its way through her throat.
The words she poured out felt more painful than her bleeding legs.
Looking down at her daughter’s face, twisted with grief, Senebier clicked her tongue as if in pity.
“But there is no need to worry. I have no intention of allowing my daughter to remain in such a state.”
Cold fingers, like those of an insect, brushed the tangled hair away from her cheek.
Thalia saw those abyss-like eyes narrow into a thin curve.
It was a smile that seemed to promise an even greater despair.
Inside the massive temple located within the Imperial Palace, thirty-four coffins were laid out in a neat row.
While priests circled them, pouring holy water and chanting prayers, the mourners took turns placing flowers upon the coffins.
Asros, sitting in the pews watching the long and tedious proceedings, rolled his eyes to spy on his half-siblings.
His elder brother was sitting in the seat of honor, putting on airs with his usual arrogant expression, while Aila Roem Guirta was mourning the deceased with a grace befitting her nickname, the ‘Perfect Princess.’
It was a scene no different from usual. However, he felt a strange sense of dissonance.
Pondering the reason, Asros soon realized that his half-sister was deeply enraged about something.
Though she had fashioned a reasonably plausible expression of sorrow, her eyes were cold as ice, and the set of her mouth was noticeably rigid.
‘What is she so angry about?’
Unlike their brother, who expressed every emotion exactly as it was, she was someone who always hid herself behind a serene smile.
It was quite interesting that his sister, who never showed a crack in her composure at any moment, was revealing her emotions in front of so many people.
‘Was she that upset about the wedding being postponed?’
Asros’s gaze naturally drifted toward her fiancé.
Varkas Raedgo Sheikan stood by the altar with his back straight, quietly observing the funeral rites. He looked more like a statue erected in the cathedral than a living person.
Intrigued by his excessive stillness, Asros scanned him slowly from head to toe.
The next Duke Shearkan wore a doublet tailored sharply from shoulder to waist, and breeches that fit like armor, with a long navy cape draped over his left shoulder.
It was a somewhat understated outfit, but in Asros’s eyes, his attire looked far more impressive than the nobles who had dressed up to the nines. He could understand, just a little bit, why his half-sister was so upset about the wedding being delayed.
‘…Since an accident like this happened, they won’t be able to leave for the pilgrimage until next year.’
Then did that mean the wedding between Aila Roem Guirta and the next Duke Shearkan would also be pushed back to next year?
Thinking that far, Asros suddenly grimaced.
His chest felt tight all of a sudden.
He had wanted his half-sister, who always looked at him as if he were something repulsive, to hurry up and leave for the Duchy.
‘Perhaps they’ll break imperial tradition and proceed with the wedding as scheduled.’
He looked toward Lord Shearkan with a desperate prayer in his heart.
Please, take Aila Roem Guirta to the East.
At that moment, as if he had heard the ridiculous prayer, the man turned his head.
Asros flinched and cast his eyes down.
His heart sank at the gaze that felt as though it were looking right through his mind.
