CHAPTER 141
The Empress sitting before her looked noble at a glance.
A woman who had lived her whole life surrounded by love.
Having never been hated, she wouldn’t know what hatred felt like.
There was no room for impure emotions such as disappointment, jealousy, or fear to gnaw at her soul.
A life of seeing, hearing, and enjoying only the beautiful things in the world.
In the past, in the present, and surely in the future as well.
Through her bloodshot eyes, Tristini saw the Emperor standing behind Arabelle.
His sharp gaze warned her that if she so much as reached out toward his wife, he would sever her wrist with a single stroke.
No, it seemed as if he was expecting her to make a mistake. So that he could sever her neck as well.
Tristini didn’t feel any resentment or hatred toward the Emperor.
After all, she had coveted him because she hoped he could be a stronger shield than Bergen.
She thought standing beside a man much stronger and more magnificent than Bergen was the way to take revenge on him.
And the jealousy that gnawed at her heart, the desire for her cousin’s place.
If only fate hadn’t switched her and Arabelle, she would be the one standing beside the Emperor.
The object of his unconditional love would have been her, or so she believed.
But now, all of that is meaningless.
Arabelle will live as the Empress of a grand empire, while I will live as a slave to the witch of Vesilcia.
Tristini’s shoulders trembled with indescribable rage.
It wasn’t because of a fate she couldn’t change.
It was because of Arabelle, who still had clear and kind eyes.
Despite being betrayed by a trusted cousin and nearly facing a terrible fate…
The gaze Arabelle directed at her should have been more intense than that of the Emperor.
It should have been filled with disgust, anger, contempt, and coldness all mixed together.
Yet, her soft brown eyes were full of confusion and pity.
That made it even harder to endure. It was shameful and miserable.
Even if Arabelle were to shout, ‘Take this woman to the guillotine right now,’ no one would blame the Empress.
It was a situation where people would laugh behind her back if she easily forgave.
But Tristini could tell that Arabelle’s expression wasn’t for show but genuine.
Tristini bit down on the inside of her cheek. The taste of blood filled her mouth, but she didn’t let go.
She couldn’t stand it, seeing herself in Arabelle, who had once been unblemished.
Tristini had received the love of her aunt Elenya, whom she had thought was her mother, and later lived under Bergen’s protection.
Though she had lost her husband and family to monsters, Elenya had been a respected countess.
Thanks to Elenya, Tristini had a privileged and happy childhood.
She visited beautiful royal palaces across the continent and was treated as a distinguished guest, following Elenya, who had friendships with many queens.
Even when she was captured by the King of Laicanoire and lost Elenya while they were on an invitation to the Kingdom of Qubul…
Her life didn’t change. No, she was elevated to an even nobler status.
It was while she was being dragged somewhere by the Crown Prince, the King’s eldest son, after hearing the news that both Elenya and the King of Laicanoire had died together.
Overwhelmed by unbearable sorrow and fear, she lost consciousness.
When Tristini opened her eyes, it wasn’t the Crown Prince she saw, but the face of his younger brother, the second prince.
Blood dripped from the sword he held, forming a small puddle on the ground.
‘I killed my brothers with this hand to give you the world.’
Bergen’s bloodstained hand cupped Tristini’s pale cheek.
From that moment on, she lived under Bergen’s sweet love and unbreakable protection.
To Tristini, who harbored the trauma of losing Elenya and nearly being violated by the Crown Prince, no place other than Bergen’s embrace was imaginable.
She couldn’t move freely within the palace without his permission, but Bergen’s cage was as comfortable and safe as it could be.
At least until she realized she couldn’t break Bergen’s curse.
If Arabelle were to fall into ruin in an instant like I did…
She wouldn’t be able to look at me with those eyes.
Her soul would shatter into pieces, just like mine.
Tristini glared at Arabelle’s hand, which held a wet cloth.
“Are you enjoying this?”
A venomous voice, surprising even to her, rasped through her parched lips.
“Am I so pitiful that you don’t even feel anger? Do you feel pity for me because, though we share the same Lumen Savior blood, I am so different from Your Majesty? It seems you find me so insignificant that you don’t even feel the need to punish me.”
Arabelle’s round eyes grew even larger at Tristini’s spiteful outburst.
“I refuse your cheap pity. Either drag me off and lock me in the underground tower or put me on the guillotine right now. Or tie me to a horse and have me dragged around, pelted with stones by the people.”
The Emperor spoke coldly in place of Arabelle, who said nothing, barely restraining the urge to grab Tristini by the throat.
“You don’t need to prattle on about your punishment. You will receive a punishment befitting your crimes.”
Ignoring the Emperor, Tristini glared at Arabelle with wide eyes.
“If I had lived a life like yours, filled with nothing but love… I could have remained a kind and virtuous person like you. The more people have and the more they enjoy, the more generous and forgiving they become.”
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile as she looked at the still silent Arabelle.
“If our mothers hadn’t switched our places, my life wouldn’t have turned out like this. I resent them. I hate them for making my fate so miserable with their decision.”
Thinking that she was being ignored, Tristini clenched her fists and raised her voice.
“How could someone like you possibly understand me? How could you know the sorrow, humiliation, and fear I’ve endured?”
The Emperor pressed his lips into a thin line, indicating he would tolerate no more.
As she moved to ring the bell on the wall, intending to call a servant to avoid dirtying her own hands, Arabelle placed her small hands over Tristini’s trembling fists.
Tristini tried to shake off Arabelle’s touch, but for some reason, their hands felt magnetized, unable to separate.
Arabelle quietly observed Tristini’s intense, dark brown eyes as if she were peering into something much deeper within her.
Tristini tried to look away, summoning all her strength, but her gaze wouldn’t budge. Arabelle’s warm light began spreading from Tristini’s hand, coursing through her veins and permeating her entire body.
A look of astonishment and horror slowly crept over Tristini’s face as scenes began to unfold in her mind. These scenes… were from Arabelle’s childhood, Tristini realized.
It was the true power of a Lumen Savior.
Unlike Tristini, who could hold hands and sense whether someone was telling the truth, a true Lumen Savior had the ability to project their thoughts into someone else’s mind.
Arabelle wasn’t fully aware of her abilities as a Lumen Savior, but after breaking the Emperor's curse, she understood that the light within her was guiding her.
The first time she noticed the light was by Lake Inis. A softly glowing, round orb appeared in her mind, adjusting its brightness and size according to Arabelle’s will.
It had happened when Tristini first visited Arabelle to talk about their mothers. Arabelle’s hand had naturally clasped Tristini’s, confirming that Tristini was telling the truth.
She hadn’t known she possessed the ability to discern truth, but her light had guided her.
Now, the light was leading her once again.
Tristini’s eyes wavered with confusion, her thoughts in turmoil. The young girl she saw in her mind… couldn’t be Arabelle. It shouldn’t be Arabelle.
A wretched child, scorned even by her own father.
Nowhere in those images was the cherished and privileged Arabelle.
Jonathan, drowned in gambling and alcohol, took out his frustrations on his second daughter, Arabelle, blaming her for his failures.
He suspected that Arabelle, who didn’t resemble him in the slightest in either appearance or temperament, wasn’t his daughter at all.
Without acknowledging his own infidelity in fathering his eldest and youngest daughters outside of marriage, he harbored suspicions that Kisha, his wife, had committed adultery and given birth to Arabelle.
But Jonathan never confronted Kisha. If it were true, he’d have to divorce her for infidelity, as the Empire’s law dictated.
Under the law, a man could sire illegitimate children, but a woman could not. A woman guilty of infidelity was subjected to divorce.
It wasn’t that Jonathan loved Kisha dearly—she was simply his only means of repaying his debts and supporting his lifestyle.
If they divorced, he would have no way to raise his two daughters alone, so he never asked.
Yet, he didn’t forgive his wife. The shame and anger he felt from believing Kisha had been unfaithful were fully unleashed upon Arabelle.
When Kisha left home to earn money, Jonathan spewed verbal abuse at Arabelle, and beat her, rationalizing his actions as justifiable. He starved her and forced her to sleep in the stable.
When Arabelle’s meager healing abilities failed to manifest, Jonathan’s suspicions became fact in his mind.
When Arabelle turned ten, Kisha suddenly disappeared, and the abuse and neglect from Jonathan and her sisters grew increasingly severe.
Publicly denouncing Arabelle as not his daughter would only prove his incompetence as a man, a shame he wasn’t willing to bear. So, he vented his anger on Arabelle instead.
His own sisters, whom he and his daughters relied on, also had use for Arabelle, who was a diligent worker. Arabelle was burdened with the labor of two or three household maids, supporting her family in the process.
Jonathan, his daughters, his sisters, their husbands, and even the servants in the manor—all of them took out their frustrations on the young Arabelle.
She endured constant verbal abuse, mockery, and physical punishment. Her upright and cautious nature was exploited and mocked by those around her.
Tristini’s gaze took in the frail back of a young girl, doing laundry by the frigid river in winter because the well had frozen over. She saw the girl’s swollen face from fever as she cleaned a flooded stable during the rainy season. She saw the small, red hands suffering from frostbite after being trapped in a snowstorm for three days while gathering truffles for her uncle's birthday feast, only to be sent to the attic without food or water because the truffles had frozen and were unusable.
The young girl, longing every night for her mother, who had left without explanation, silently wept.
Tristini, unable to bear any more, squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as if trying to erase what she had seen.
She felt immense pity for the young girl who believed everything was her fault and cried quietly in her grief.
Tristini wanted to run to the girl, to embrace her.
“It’s not your fault.”
“They are the ones who are wrong.”
She wanted to say to Arabelle the very words she had most longed to hear herself.
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