Darkholm Translation

CHAPTER 144 The drawing room was blanketed in silence. Timothy glanced back and forth between his father and Besilia, his eyes wide with confusion. The two exchanged steady, emotionless stares, maintaining a tense atmosphere. It was Timothy who broke the silence first. “What do you mean by that?” “I mean that I know where His Imperial Majesty’s parents are, kuh kuh,” Besilia chuckled. Timothy asked the giggling witch, his voice trembling despite his efforts to keep it steady. People still believed that the black panther monster that invaded the imperial palace had killed Crown Prince Luca. It was also believed that the Crown Princess had been kidnapped by the monster. In reality, the destruction in the Crown Prince’s quarters within the palace had been caused by none other than Crown Prince Luca himself, cursed to become the black panther. And the Crown Princess had left the palace to follow her cursed husband. Timothy remembered his father muttering to himself not long ago, “Crown Pri...

CHAPTER 143 Past midnight, the sentries stationed in front of the Coralld Count’s mansion struggled to keep their heads from nodding.  A young sentry, battling drowsiness, managed to force his heavy eyelids open.  The moment he saw the figure standing before him, his eyes shot wide open in surprise. Realizing he hadn’t sensed anyone approaching, the young sentry’s face showed his alarm. “Who, who’s there?” he stammered. The other sentries, shaken from their slumber, hastily straightened their posture.  The figure was wrapped in an old, threadbare robe, a dark gray cloak that hung loosely from head to ankle.  The hood cast a shadow over their face, making it impossible to see their features. The figure appeared lost, wandering through the area where the mansions of the capital’s high nobility were concentrated. “Turn back before the Imperial Guard arrests you. This is not a place where you can wander without identification,” one of the older sentries said sternly. The...

CHAPTER 142 Tristini's eyes blurred with tears.  Her cracked lips trembled uncontrollably.  She had been so sure that Arabelle wouldn't know hardship or pain, looking into those immaculate, radiant eyes.  Despite such a cruel past, Arabelle had managed to protect herself.  She had not allowed the dark emotions of hatred and envy to take hold of her.  To those who were mean and cruel, Arabelle must have appeared as nothing more than a timid and shy girl. But Arabelle had not let their wickedness consume her soul.  Even in despair, she had not lost her dreams. Even in hatred, she had not lost her capacity to love. Even in darkness, she had not lost her light. That was why, even now, she retained her composure. Then, Arabelle’s clear voice sounded softly, “Bergen caused you immeasurable pain. And I understand that you deceived me because of his threats. You must have been afraid.” This time, Tristini couldn’t respond. Arabelle’s small but firm voice resonated ...

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 ...

CHAPTER 140 "Tristini!" Arabelle rushed to Tristini, who had fainted and fallen beneath the sofa. She knelt beside Tristini, who lay collapsed on the carpet, and took her hand. It was as cold as ice. Arabelle carefully lifted Tristini’s head and placed it on her lap. Unlike her cold hands, Tristini’s forehead was burning with a high fever. Arabelle slipped her arms under Tristini's frail back, trying to lift her back onto the sofa. However, being smaller and more delicate than Tristini, it was too much for Arabelle to lift the limp body on her own. She briefly hoped that the Emperor might help, but there was no sound from behind her. Although Arabelle was known for not being particularly perceptive, she understood that this was not the time to ask the Emperor for help. The Emperor's anger toward Tristini was natural, the kind of feeling any husband who loved his wife would have. Arabelle hadn’t asked the Emperor to forgive or understand Tristini. She believed it would...