Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Asherad's Whim
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Daphne's room had been moved.
It was not a tiny room fit for a sewer rat to nest in, but a spacious one. The ceiling was high, the walls a bright yellow, the bed plush, and there was even a table and chairs.
Daphne walked around the room as if taking it in. She could actually 'walk' in it. That alone made the room immensely valuable.
In the corner stood a mirror with a golden frame. Daphne caught sight of her reflection and stepped back in shock.
“Mommy?”
Daphne flinched and drew closer. She'd only ever seen small mirrors borrowed from Sara, so she had no idea what her full face looked like.
At twenty-one, she resembled the mother she'd so desperately wanted to look like.
Her childhood blonde hair, once devoid of color, had turned a brilliant yellow like molten gold. Her face was pale, but the lips obsessively kissed by Asherad held a reddish hue.
I really look like Mom.
Daphne reached out and touched the mirror. It felt colder than she'd expected. Full-length mirrors like this were reserved barely for senior maids and head maids.
It was the first time since childhood that Daphne had seen her full body. Seeing her own face—and her mother's fading features—wasn't so bad. Daphne stood there for a long while, hand pressed to the glass, gazing at herself.
Then she noticed the white fog forming where her hand rested and yanked it away in alarm.
I have to be careful. Her presence in this room was purely due to Asherad's whim. He could toss her back into that room at any moment.
Coming from that moldy, decaying hovel to this place. For that alone, she ought to weep with joy.
Yet Daphne wasn't happy.
The Turbul Duke had tried to kill her, and Asherad—in his anger—had declared her his 'lover' and brought her here.
He called her a lover, but she was little more than a concubine. Since he was unmarried, she escaped the more humiliating labels of mistress or kept woman, at least for now.
In any case, if Asherad told her to wallow in the gutters again, she'd have to obey. Everything hinged on his moods, and Daphne suspected he'd changed her room solely out of rage at the duke encroaching on his authority.
What was more fleeting than emotions? They shifted constantly, and soon enough, Asherad would order her back.
Daphne knew nothing about Asherad.
* * *
“Aaaah!”
Callista let out a shrill, neurotic scream as she flipped the table. Things clattered and shattered.
“I should have killed that bitch first—that bitch!”
She should have ripped off that repulsive, fake-pure face. Callista could tell from Asherad's behavior.
Clearly, he cherished that woman. The seductress's daughter undoubtedly had the power to ensnare men. How else could a mother-daughter pair seduce a father-son duo?
She must have witch's blood.
The problem was, Callista was going mad with the desire to possess that blood herself!
She was outraged! During the three years Asherad was away, Callista had ample chances to tear her apart! Had she known the wench was drawing his attention, she'd have slain her on the spot.
Yet over those three years, Callista had completely forgotten Daphne existed. She'd felt disgust and foreboding upon seeing her—so why had she dismissed it so easily?
Even Olga, head maid of the Crown Prince Palace who'd served Asherad since boyhood, had denied the girl was the one he'd bedded.
Callista had agreed. The precious Asherad wouldn't sully himself with such filth. Still uneasy, she'd gone to check, only to return reassured by the soot-streaked, wretched sight.
Callista had always held noble status and wasn't one to deliberately torment lowly trash. It bruised her pride.
For all her emotionality, she'd seen no need to touch Daphne—perhaps the girl could prove useful someday.
Had Asherad laid hands on her before heading to war?
To keep her beyond Callista's reach—no, beyond her notice?!
“Aaaah!”
That hurt even more! He'd harbored that wretched woman in his heart all this time? Cared for her that much?!
Why had he done nothing for me?
In truth, Callista had received much from Asherad, but this betrayal drowned it all. Then why the kiss?
Callista clamped her screaming mouth shut and glared into space, lost in thought. No answers came, so she bashed her head against the wall like a woodpecker.
A neurotic tic she'd picked up in the Thalassa Kingdom.
“Ah, yes. Yes, that's it.”
Callista twisted her lips into a smirk.
“Right, exactly. Nothing else makes sense.”
Callista chuckled to herself. She'd arrived at a delightfully absurd conclusion.
Asherad loved her!
Fearing the Turbul Duke might cause trouble, he'd taken Daphne as a mistress to shield her. How else would he stomach that filthy thing?
A sensible, young, vibrant beauty like her—how could she compare to that ragged, lowly wretch?
“Hahahahaha!”
Callista settled on her usual self-centered rationale.
Asherad's order to shut her mouth had long vanished from her thoughts. Even if it surfaced, she'd dismiss it as mere theater to placate the Turbul Ducal House.
What twisted her insides was that beggar being dubbed a lover—treated as the 'legitimate' woman at Asherad's side.
She'd claimed the exalted seat of Empress Dowager, yet one thing eluded her: an official union with Asherad.
Jealousy had her gnawing her lips raw. And she reached yet another crystal-clear conclusion.
“Yeah—just kill her again!”
Just as she'd personally poisoned her husband to death.
She'd bide her time patiently. Then finish the woman in one stroke.
* * *
Daphne was dressed by the maids. Maids of the Emperor Palace. The very ones who'd always eyed her with disdain and pointed fingers.
Now they treated her—the emperor's official mistress—with deference. The gown was flashy, unlike the late emperor's gift to her.
A skin-tight, plunging red rose of a dress, perfect for a mistress.
Wearing it, Daphne underwent makeup for the first time.
The process dragged on in stark silence, devoid of chit-chat. What fate awaited her? No one would say.
Asherad—the one who might—hadn't visited once since fetching her. Instead came an invitation to breakfast from the emperor himself.
Hence her primped state...
The maid applying her makeup stepped back as if finished and bowed at the waist. Daphne rose and turned, only to find the maids staring blankly, bows forgotten.
Surely they hadn't pranked her face?
The vanity held no mirror—she wasn't doing it herself—so Daphne headed back to the full-length one.
“Uh......”
Daphne was at a loss for words. The makeup was flawless. No sabotage as feared. If anything, too perfect.
Her slightly dusky skin gleamed white; the tint on her pale cheeks infused the vitality she'd lacked. The heavy red lipstick on her lips looked neither garish nor out of place.
The clinging red silk dress accentuated her slender frame all the more. Daphne possessed a glamorous allure befitting a 'mistress'.
Daphne stared into the mirror for ages. Without makeup, she'd seen her mother; now styled and painted, she looked utterly transformed.
Somehow, that left her wistful.
“Where's breakfast......?”
Daphne ventured hesitantly. One entranced maid jolted to attention.
“Please...... follow me.”
Daphne nodded and stepped into the corridor. She gazed at the Emperor Palace halls—familiar from endless scrubbing, yet forever alien.
As she glanced back, a voice rang out.
“Daphne!”
Who was calling her? Daphne cocked her head, then whipped around in startlement.
“Sara?”
Sara was rushing toward her. Daphne's eyes wavered. Surely...... Sara was dead?
Yet those hazel eyes and freckles dusting her nose tip—unmistakably Sara. Alive. Not dead! Her heart surged with overwhelming relief!
“Sara!”
Daphne beamed, elated by this stroke of fortune. Sara was alive!
Oh, thank goodness! No sign of injury. She still wore her prim maid's uniform with a crisp white apron.
Tears pricked Daphne's eyes unbidden. Fleeing, she'd known Sara would die for it. Known, yet run anyway.
She'd feigned otherwise, but guilt gnawed at her. How to make amends? The thought dizzied her. Yet here she was, alive.
“Daphne! You got caught after all.”
Kind Sara's first words brimmed with concern for her.
Daphne's face fell. Sara drew near; the maids withdrew. She scanned Daphne up and down, then clucked her tongue.
“Sara, what happened? His Majesty didn't harm you?”
“Yeah. Surprisingly.”
Just as Sara said, she appeared unscathed. Sara flashed a wide grin.
“Truth is, I got a real scolding.”
What? Daphne's face registered shock. Sara quirked her lips playfully.
“Kicked out of the palace, that's what.”
Daphne gaped at her. Sara seemed tickled by the reaction.
“Sara......”
“Saved my neck—that's what counts.”
A peculiar aftertaste lingered in her words.