Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Second Meeting
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Mother was warm and wanted to grant Daphne whatever she desired, but she could be strict at times.
“You mustn’t become a laughingstock when you go to the imperial palace later.”
In her childhood, Daphne learned everything she could.
Among them, the thing she liked best was painting. When she drew fruit and teacups on a blank canvas, they turned out quite lifelike.
Despite her teacher’s protests that she had remarkable talent, Mother shook her head and forbade it.
“No more painting lessons from now on.”
Daphne protested that she didn’t want to stop, but once Mother made up her mind, she rarely changed it. Daphne threw a tantrum and cried herself to sleep.
On such nights, Mother would come to her bedside and stroke her hair through the night. That night was no different.
“You don’t need that man’s legacy.”
Mother whispered tenderly to Daphne, who was still hiccupping in her sleep. Mother was an enigma.
A quaint little house with a pretty red roof. When Daphne grew tired of studying, Mother would bake snacks, and when she was utterly exhausted, she’d skip the day’s lessons for a picnic together.
A world full of love and happiness, with nothing lacking. A complete world with just Mother.
Occasionally, the Emperor would show up like an unwelcome guest and come between Mother and her.
Of course, it wasn’t that the Emperor withheld his love.
Mother was a well-loved mistress, and the Emperor did his best to fulfill her every wish. It was only natural that their daughter, Daphne, was loved as well.
Daphne was quick-witted enough to sense that the affection she received was false and undeserved, but she remained ignorant of the fundamental truth.
That was Daphne’s sin. Protected by Mother Beatrice’s boundless love, she lost all her shields after Mother’s death.
“Daphne, the imperial palace... your father...”
Spitting blood, she urged her to follow “Father” until the very end. The Emperor tearfully sent off his beloved, who was dying suddenly of illness.
“Your Majesty, my daughter, please, my daughter...”
He assured her that of course he would take Daphne, the fruit of his love with Beatrice.
Mother was dead. Her world was dead. Greedy but not cunning, Beatrice had tried to bring her daughter into the palace but succumbed to a sudden illness before succeeding.
A poignant loss, entrusting her daughter to her own father—it could have been a beautiful picture, even if everyone pointed fingers.
But the world of a girl without protection was far too fragile and crumbled easily.
Daphne sobbed on Mother’s bed, drawing her absent mother over and over. She thought that if she cried herself to sleep like this, Mother might appear at night to stroke her hair.
Before the pain of loss could even heal, a destroyer arrived to shatter her world.
“You deceived me!”
Trembling inside the wardrobe at the Emperor’s roar, Daphne heard him smashing everything. With a crash, a vase rolled away. Then came a dull thud, followed by wet squelching sounds.
Next, a crunch of something breaking. Daphne plugged her ears, praying for it all to end soon.
“That wicked thing! How dare it deceive me, me of all people!”
Thud, thud, thud, thud! More wet, pounding sounds.
“You loved that worthless wretch, yet passed off another man’s seed as mine...! Cunning bitch! Fox!”
The Emperor’s enraged shouts filled the quiet house. After Mother died, she’d thought the silence would be unbearable.
But she’d never wished for it to be filled with such terrifying noises.
She pressed her legs together and huddled.
In that moment, young Daphne realized.
Everything had come to light.
Deep down, she’d hoped he was her father. But he wasn’t.
Mother had lied to “Father.” Her real father was someone else! And now the lie was exposed.
But the one who could take responsibility for that lie—Mother—was already dead. So Daphne had to face the Emperor’s wrath head-on.
The wardrobe door flew open. Through the hanging clothes, she saw bloodshot eyes.
A faint ray of light pierced her eyes, stinging them. She winced as a slender little wrist was yanked, pulling her tumbling out.
Tear-streaked, Daphne looked up. This man who once stroked her hair, who had been so kind, had thrown her like trash. She couldn’t understand it.
Yes, she’d prided herself on being more mature than her peers. A ten-year-old child couldn’t fully grasp that malice, that rage.
Daphne looked around. She saw the corpses of those who’d worked here. She recalled their horrific screams, which she’d desperately denied. Her trembling pupils met the butler’s lifeless eyes.
She couldn’t even scream. She knew it would mean death.
The moment she realized what the Emperor had been pounding, she knew she’d end up the same. Yet she wanted to live. She didn’t want to end up like that.
“Ah, f-f-Father.”
She uttered the words she should never have said, trembling.
Father—no, the Emperor—looked at the little girl and smirked as he ripped the necklace from her neck.
“Father?”
The Emperor curled his lip.
Daphne’s eyes returned to blue. They’d named her “Daphne” for their laurel-green hue, but that too was a deception. The Emperor grabbed her face with his massive hand.
“Ugh!”
“Father? Father? Who’s your father?!”
“......”
“Look at those blue eyes of yours! You hid even this from me?!”
Her face shook in his grip. Daphne whimpered apologies in a mosquito-like voice, tears streaming.
The Emperor paused his violence and panted. His rage-filled eyes were already mad. Daphne opened her eyes and faced the man who’d once been her father.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Your Majesty!”
“......”
“I’m sorry!”
Pale and shaking, Daphne begged. She didn’t want to die. No, she was terrified of dying. And yet, she envied Mother, who had gone to the forest of death.
It was frightening. Unbearably so. The Emperor watched her. Then, as if struck by a thought, he stared piercingly into her eyes.
After a long moment, he smirked faintly, as if an idea had come to him.
“Yes, I must honor her dying wish.”
“......”
“It’s a promise from the Emperor, after all.”
His face was cruel, that of a sadist intent on inflicting every humiliation and torment the world could offer, as he gazed at the last remnant of his beloved.
“You’ll go to the imperial palace.”
Having discarded any fatherly facade, the man smiled.
It was the end of Daphne’s peaceful, loving world.
In this world, some are permitted purity and ignorance, while others are not. Daphne belonged to the latter.
In truth, her ignorance wasn’t her only crime—merely breathing was a sin. So said the world. And rightly so. She was the daughter of Beatrice, the infamous seductress who dared deceive the Emperor and covet the Empress’s seat.
* * *
“Hey, fetch some water!”
A bucket flew and struck young Daphne’s body. It was half her size in water alone. Quietly, she picked up the handle.
“Isn’t that too harsh?”
“She’s useless, that’s why.”
Giggling came from behind. Raised in Mother’s warm embrace, never so much as wetting her hands with chores, this was her life.
But once in the palace, it was as if they’d been waiting—as if the whole world conspired to crush Daphne. Her downfall was their sole remaining amusement in this dreary place.
She was a young girl, but a brazen, cunning wench who dared claim imperial blood. Their hatred for Daphne, who’d never done menial labor, stirred a strange inferiority in those of noble birth.
A filthy duckling like us, daring to mimic a swan?
They inflicted punishment. People rationalized their twisted sadism as justice. It was exactly as the Emperor intended.
Daphne barely drew the water, dragging it along. No one helped. Water sloshed out, trailing behind.
“Hey! You!”
Bad luck. She knew that voice—Thomas, the steward infamous for his foul temper even in the palace. As she turned, a dull blow struck her head. His massive fist.
It hurt so much tears welled up. Thomas bellowed.
“You ruined the freshly cleaned hallway like this!”
“......”
“Oh ho, so you’re that cuckoo!”
Everyone snickered at his words.
“Cuckoo chick...”
At Daphne’s murmur, a servant bent down and said.
“Don’t you know? Cuckoos shove their eggs into other nests, the filthy birds. That’s why they’re called cuckoos. Your dead mother did the same.”
“......”
“Daring to claim you were His Majesty’s child. Bold indeed. Bet your mother didn’t die pretty.”
Daphne looked up. She didn’t want to hear that Mother hadn’t died peacefully. Still, Mother was... Mother was my mom, no matter how bad she was...
“Or who knows? Maybe she’s flirting with the god of death right now...”
“No!”
Daphne gritted her teeth and shouted. They laughed even harder. Such a grave insult. Why? Why did these people torment her? Why insult her dead mother?
Mother never did anything wrong to you!
She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. Cold water poured over her. An iron bucket was jammed onto her head. She was drenched.
Laughter and murmurs filled the air. Even mock pity: “Poor thing.” The bucket blocked her vision. Her ragged breathing echoed in her ears.
The cackling grew distant. She wanted to run. But she couldn’t see.
Soaked like a drowned rat, bucket over her head, she struggled to remove it. Her chin caught on the handle; it wouldn’t budge.
Then something hit with a clang.
“Bullseye!”
The laughter swelled. Daphne wanted to die. To escape this place. Tears flowing, she desperately sought a hiding spot.
In her frantic flight, she collided with someone. The bucket flew off.
“......”
Dead silence reigned, breaths held. Daphne looked at the one before her. Shockingly, it was a boy.
The white shirt the boy wore was soaked.
A boy with raven-black hair and green eyes. Asherad was looking down at her. The kind boy she’d met in the palace.
As Daphne’s eyes widened, a voice came from somewhere.
“P-Prince, Your Highness.”
Prince, Your Highness?
She snapped to attention. For a moment, his gaze seemed indifferent, bored. His eyes settled on her pathetic, drenched form. At the end of that appraising look, his eyes widened.
“Are you all right?”
His kind voice sliced through the silence like a blade.