Chapter 79
Chapter 79
Translation: godsn
The outskirts of District 3 in Valdina's Royal Castle.
Click-clack. The sound of impatient footsteps echoed through the quiet alley.
Medeia walked briskly.
She knew she had to wait until Neril returned from her errand, but she couldn't stand being in that place with him any longer.
Even sharing the same ground, the same sky, the same air made her nauseous, as if she were being strangled.
"Hah, haa, haa......"
Medeia clutched her chest.
To think she would run into Iason here. His first appearance in Valdina as part of the diplomatic mission was supposed to be at the celebratory banquet.
Why has he already entered the Royal Castle?
The unexpected encounter, happening sooner than anticipated, had made her lose her composure in an instant.
Her husband from her past life—and her sworn enemy.
The man she had given everything to, only for him to take everything from her.
"Pardon me, but may I know the lady's name?"
When she faced Iason again,
Medeia had to exert every ounce of willpower not to smash that youthful, vibrant face—the face of the husband she once knew.
She had clenched her trembling fingers so tightly that tears welled up from the sheer effort of holding back her fury.
The scars engraved in her memory. She hadn't forgotten a single one.
She would return every last one of those wounds, carved deep into her very blood.
Loving Iason had been the greatest mistake and stain of her life.
A nightmare-branded blemish she wanted to carve out of her flesh, even if it meant flaying herself.
But... the children?
The sudden question froze Medeia's body.
Those children... My children weren't a stain.
They were the only breath and reason that kept her alive.
If she crushed Iason in this life, she would never see those children again.
Unconsciously, Medeia staggered.
It was as if she stood before a cliff, unable to take a single step forward or back.
Her pale hands flailed desperately for something to lean on, only to find nothing but the helpless fabric of her own dress, which she clutched in vain.
The veins on her bloodless hands stood out starkly.
Rian, Lea. Your foolish mother is abandoning you again.
"Mother, I don't want to go to the Imperial Palace. Can't I stay by your side?"
"Mother, don't worry. Just wait a little longer, and I'll come back to serve you."
Her always brave and bold son, Rian. She had pushed his small back with her own hands, sending him away.
That little face that kept turning back to memorize hers as he left,
Those small hands that wiped away tears and waved brightly so she wouldn't worry—she would never see them again.
"Don't cry, Mommy. Lea will hug you. Do you miss your brother?"
The chubby hands that wiped her tears. The faint milky scent that lingered in her arms, brushing against her nose.
The unease and worry in those young eyes watching over their mother.
After losing her son and spiraling into madness, she had never once been a proper mother to Lea.
"No! I don't wanna go! I wanna stay with Mommy!"
The child who had thrown a fit, kicking and screaming.
She had pried those small arms from around her waist and forced them into Virna's hold. The last thing she saw was that tear-soaked face.
She would never see her children again.
The realization, which she had avoided acknowledging since her regression, struck Medeia like a physical blow.
Perhaps she had delayed facing it because she knew it would shake her like this.
If I crush Iason in this life, not even your traces will remain. And yet, this foolish mother still can't give up her revenge.
You'll resent me forever from that place, won't you?
She could almost hear her children's silent screams.
Her vision swam. The ground seemed to crumble beneath her, pulling her down.
Everything was darkness. What lay at the bottom of that abyss?
If Rian and Lea were down there, crying and waiting for her... then she—
Just as she was about to collapse, a firm hand caught her waist.
"Breathe."
A low voice resonated.
"Slowly. You need to inhale."
She didn't know. How did one inhale? How had she been breathing all this time? She couldn't remember any of it.
Wouldn't it be fine to just stay like this? The darkness was comfortable—she didn't have to think about anything.
"Quickly."
The calm voice urged her on.
Thump. Thump. She could feel the faint vibration of someone lightly tapping her wrist.
Thump. Thud. The tapping slowed.
"Can you hear me?"
"...Haah... Me."
A ragged voice gasped out between breaths. Another hand patted her back as if to say she was doing well.
Tap.
"Two... beats."
Tap. Tap.
"Three, four."
In the pale darkness, Medeia focused solely on counting the numbers.
The arm firmly wrapped around her waist was the only support she could lean on.
The voice counting gradually slowed.
"Well done."
With those final words of praise, spoken in a low voice that seemed to spread over her head, she finally lost consciousness.
When Medeia opened her eyes again, she was in an unfamiliar place.
An intoxicating fragrance lingered at the tip of her nose. The smooth, cream-colored sheets gently tickled her cheek.
This isn't the princess's palace.
She bolted upright.
A moment later, the opulent interior of the room came into view. Not a single decoration in sight was ordinary.
As if sensing her presence, a man wearing a white half-mask stepped forward from behind the cream-colored curtains.
"You're awake."
"Why am I here...?"
"I erased the traces. It seems Princess Valdina enjoys courting danger, but if it were me, I'd be a bit more careful."
A cup was pushed toward Medeia.
Out of habit, she checked its contents. Just plain water.
The cold water sharpened her awareness. His words brought back the last fragments of her memory—the moment she had faced Iason, been driven toward the Abyss, and the firm hand that had caught her as she collapsed.
Had this man before her been the one to carry her unconscious body here?
"Princess, isn't it too soon to let your guard down?"
At his languid remark, Medeia bit her lip. She had thought she had completely shaken off the remnants of her past life.
I was too overconfident.
Had her true identity been exposed to the diplomatic mission in that moment, it would have spelled disaster.
But why isn't he asking me anything?
Her emerald-green eyes, sharp with wariness, fixed on Cesare.
The man, who seemed utterly out of place in the palace-like extravagance of the room, blended in with surprising ease.
"Apologies, but I'm not so free as to follow you around."
His voice was unhurried, as if he had sensed her suspicion.
"I've sent a messenger. Your handmaid should be here soon."
"I must have made quite the spectacle."
The corner of the man's eye twitched faintly.
"That's disappointing. Weren't we on the same side ever since you eliminated those assassins for me?"
"That doesn't mean I'd side with you against the Kazen Imperial Family."
Cesare's eyes gleamed as if probing her.
It seemed the princess had already deduced, in that brief time, that the assassins who had stormed the count's residence were sent by the Imperial Family.
"So, the Princess of Valdina, who claims to have no intention of opposing Kazen, came all the way out here to greet the Imperial delegation in advance?"
"......"
Cesare's straight finger traced a line across the table before placing a cup at its end.
"Allies, or enemies. For me, there are generally only these two categories. The Kazen delegation falls here."
Clink. The cup he pushed over tipped and fell. Crack. It shattered cleanly, without so much as a loud noise.
"Princess, don't you think what we desire might not be so different after all?"
"...I'll repay the debt later."
Instead of answering, Medeia rose from her seat.
She straightened her clothes with astonishing speed, as if determined not to show any further weakness to her opponent.
"As you wish."
He shrugged. His golden eyes followed her slender back with ease.
Click. The door closed.
Soon, only the faint crackling of the fireplace's burning logs could be heard.
The creeping darkness of dusk seeped into the white mansion as well.
"Cesare, I've brought the medicine."
"Leave it there."
As Terence set the steaming cup down on the table, he studied Cesare.
But the golden-eyed man standing by the window kept his gaze fixed outside, as though lost in thought.
"Even so, bringing her all the way to the mansion was reckless. What if the princess had figured out your real identity?"
"Has the princess ever met Iason before?"
Cesare ignored Terence's words entirely, posing an unrelated question instead.