Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: False Roots
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Daphne remembered her mansion as a very quiet place. Her mother preferred trees over flowers and cherished the laurel tree that resembled her especially.
“Flowers are too flashy with all that blooming and wilting. They’re too fragile.”
That was what her mother said when Daphne once brought her daffodils she had picked with her small hands.
“Look.”
The daffodil in her hand was already wilting. It wasn’t the fresh flower she had wanted to show her mother. The drooping stem already heralded the flower’s death.
“How pitiful.”
Her mother murmured as she took the flower from Daphne’s hand. She had picked the yellow flower because it resembled her mother. But even as a child, she vaguely realized.
The wilted flower resembled her mother more. That slender, delicate frame. The wistful smile. The fragility that seemed like it would snap at the slightest breeze.
“It’s okay.”
“…Hic, Mommy!”
“Mommy’s here. You’re a tree. Trees are okay.”
The notorious seductress who ensnared the Emperor between her legs, the lewd whore who couldn’t live without men. The bastard with tainted blood.
The woman to whom every insult clung, yet who was the world to young Daphne and the one she loved most—Beatrice—hugged her beloved daughter tightly.
“You’ll never lose. My dear daughter.”
Beatrice didn’t know why Daphne was crying so much. Perhaps because the hand patting her back was so gentle.
Was it the warmth of the embrace, or the soft whisper in her ear that felt so good? Daphne cried for a long time.
Daphne.
The name taken from the laurel tree spirit. It was a name Beatrice had chosen herself. Flowers are too flashy with all that blooming and wilting. She preferred trees that shed their leaves in wait, then sprouted new ones. Trees that rooted deep in the earth and stood firm.
“So, my daughter, always wear that necklace. Never take it off in front of your daddy.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
When Beatrice unclasped the necklace’s hook, her green eyes turned blue. Beatrice loved Daphne’s “blue eyes,” not her “green eyes,” so very much.
“Except when it’s just you and me.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
Daphne smiled, knowing her mother loved her eyes. Beatrice raised her hand and stroked her poor daughter’s hair.
“Women are like flowers. I had no choice but to be one. But you will be a tree.”
“…….”
“My eternal lover, whom I loved and loved. Like Oliver.”
Beatrice smiled sadly. At the time, Daphne didn’t know what that meant. She only knew her father’s name was Oliver.
* * *
“Daphne!”
Daphne ran smiling into the arms of the man embracing her. The man with jet-black hair and green eyes kissed her cheek.
“Daphne, you pretty thing.”
Daphne’s father was never at home.
He only visited this remote mansion very occasionally. Sometimes it would take until snow fell or dry branches sprouted leaves again.
Today was one summer day when the garden plants shone especially deep in hue—one of the days of Daphne’s ninth birthday.
“Have you come, Your Majesty?”
Your Majesty. Daphne’s face darkened at the words. Having begun etiquette lessons, she now knew what “Your Majesty” meant.
The Emperor of this land.
Her father was the Emperor of this land. At some point, Daphne realized that the man named Oliver was not her father, the Emperor. Every time she saw this man who loved her, her heart sank.
It didn’t matter that her mother was a concubine. What mattered was deceiving her “father” with the green eyes. This man who liked her so much.
“Daphne. What’s that with your father? I thought you were still five.”
As soon as the Emperor set her down, Daphne grabbed her skirt hem and bowed.
“Father, it’s been a long time.”
“What’s that! Stop it, hahaha!”
Her father burst into laughter.
“She’s a smart child. She’s already read all the history books at nine.”
“Really?”
“The tutors all praise her. They say she’s too clever.”
“Impressive, Daphne. I’m proud.”
At some point, she could no longer meet those warm green eyes properly. She bit her lip lightly and lowered her head. Thinking it shyness, her father chuckled heartily.
No.
No.
She was ordinary. She liked history books because they were fun.
The tutors’ praise was just flattery toward her mother, who enjoyed the Emperor’s favor. She had heard a tutor curse her mother’s promiscuity—that was when she knew her world was askew.
“So, that woman’s son is useless.”
Beatrice smiled coquettishly, leaning into the Emperor’s arm. The Emperor looked at her fondly with adoring eyes and kissed her.
“So, for the child’s birthday present, could you give me just one?”
“What?”
“Take this child to the Imperial Palace once.”
At some point, her mother’s face darkened, her eyes taking on a shadowy gleam. The once wistful and fragile mother would make displays of affection she hadn’t before.
The Emperor lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile, looked at Daphne, and spoke gently.
“Of course.”
“You must be thrilled, Daphne.”
No, nothing was good.
Mother, no. I don’t want to go.
But Daphne’s opinion was not heeded.
* * *
“Understand? I can’t go.”
“…….”
“Go show yourself to the Imperial Palace. Just follow your father.”
Daphne wore a vivid green dress that best matched her eye color. It was the puffiest-skirted dress she owned. Cinching her waist with silk adorned with white flowers made her breath catch slightly. Beatrice painstakingly braided her hair up and decorated it with flowers.
In the mirror, she looked like a tree fairy.
Her face was covered in freckles, and the flush on her cheeks was like a ripe but unattractive tomato. Her golden hair looked drab, as if the color had faded, rather than radiant.
The Imperial Palace was said to be even more splendid, frequented only by flower-like beauties. Was it okay for someone like her to go?
“You must wear the necklace.”
“Yes.”
The golden necklace hung around her neck. As she fiddled with the pendant, her eyes turned green. They waited a long time for the Emperor.
At the sound of the carriage arriving, they went outside, but waiting for them was not the Emperor, but his attendant.
“His Majesty has sent word to bring the young lady.”
“His Majesty?”
The attendant’s contemptuous glance made her mother ask no more. Instead, she pushed Daphne forward. As Daphne hopped into the carriage, her mother waved smiling.
“Poor Imperial Prince.”
The attendant said, looking down at the pathetic girl below his waist. Daphne didn’t know what that meant.
She truly didn’t know.
* * *
Daphne was entranced by the grandeur of the Imperial Palace. It was vast, huge, and tall. Her cheeks flushed at the garden adorned not with trees, but flowers.
“Then, I’ll be off.”
“Mister, where are you going?”
At Daphne’s innocent question, the attendant spoke maliciously.
“I’m busy. You can find His Majesty alone, right? The way is easy. Over there.”
The place he pointed to was the largest building in the center. Unlike her small mansion, the square structure had a blue dome like a halved orb topped with pointed spires.
She had to walk through the garden for a while, but it was fine. Mother said to do well. This wasn’t hard. Daphne nodded with a determined expression. The attendant smiled and said.
“Good, good child. Have a nice day.”
Daphne curtsied elegantly as her mother had taught her and walked toward her destination.
But the large building was farther than she thought. And the garden had maze-like corners, so she got lost again and again.
On the hot summer day, the sunlight was too harsh. And where was this? She thought she was going straight, but the paths kept leading her elsewhere.
Approaching a secluded tree, she sighed deeply and stood in the shadiest spot. She wanted to plop down, but feared her mother would scold her for not acting ladylike.
So she grumbled, staring at the still-distant building. That was when the man—no, the boy—appeared.
“Are you lost?”
It was a kind voice. But she now knew excessive kindness could be chilling. Daphne looked toward the voice. Someone emerged from behind a thick tree trunk. The first thing she saw was a straight nose.
The boy’s attire didn’t suit this ornate, stuffy place. Loose shirt. Disheveled clothes. Was he a worker here?
“I asked if you’re lost.”
Was it puberty? The voice sent chills down her spine, and she flinched back involuntarily.
As the boy moved, something thudded to the ground. Daphne realized it was a book. The boy bent down, stretched his long arm, and picked it up. Daphne noticed his eyelashes were quite long.
But when he slightly raised his head and looked at her clearly, she couldn’t help but be startled, as if someone had gripped her heart.
Hawk-like green eyes gazed at her.
He was a beautiful boy. His black hair, without even a hint of brown, was so dark it seemed to absorb light. It didn’t feel ominous like a crow’s feather because of the boy’s features and kind eyes.
“You’re lost, right?”
Daphne nodded. The boy smirked. She couldn’t tell what was so amusing.
“Where are you going?”
“To find His Majesty.”
“His Majesty?”
His eyes narrowed. A lazy blink, not particularly surprised. If she were an adult, it might seem odd, but she was only nine. Even if she were precocious and burdened with the world’s worries, sunk in melancholy.
Unaware of what leaf-colored eyes meant, she smiled brightly and followed him.
“How old are you?”
“Nine.”
“I’m eleven.”
He didn’t look it. More like fifteen. His straight arms and legs, tall stature suggested so. From their first meeting, the boy smoothly carried the conversation, and they laughed occasionally. Was this what having a friend your age felt like? How nice it would be to have a friend, or even a sibling.
“Here we are.”
At his gentle tone, she looked regretful. Time to part from the boy. And time to meet her ostensible “father.”
“Then I’ll be going.”
“Um, your name…….”
As she timidly mumbled, he smiled thinly.
“Asherad.”
“Asherad.”
An unusual name. Like one from mythology, dreamlike.
Struggling to pronounce the “she” sound, he grinned deeply. The elegant curve of his rising lips made Daphne feel embarrassed by her messy expression before him.
As her body slumped dejectedly, the boy, Asherad, patted her shoulder reassuringly.
At the sudden tight grip on her shoulder, she gasped involuntarily.
It was her first experience of pain. Unable to even scream, she looked at Asherad, who smiled kindly. It took time to realize the kind, gentle smile was the same as the pain he inflicted.
“Ah, it hurts!”
“Oh dear. Sorry.”
Asherad quickly released his hand. Daphne looked at him with frightened eyes, but he seemed truly apologetic. Looking at his hand that had gripped her shoulder, he lifted the corner of his mouth.
“So, see you again. Daphne.”
It felt familiar, like she’d heard it before, but she couldn’t recall from whom. Without questioning the familiarity or how he knew her name, she was sad to part from the boy before her and nodded glumly.
In hindsight, she should have turned back from going to the Imperial Palace. She shouldn’t have met him.
No, she should have killed that man, that bastard, the moment she met him.