Chapter 37

Two long trails of water stains dragged across the corridor, leaving deep dark wet marks.

The two young teens avoided the gazes of others, walking quietly down the hallway. They climbed the winding stairs, passed through the twisting corridors, and finally arrived at the fifth floor of the mansion—the place Talli had never been.

Carl’s hair tips were dripping with water, leaving a damp mark on the red velvet carpet. He raised his hand and touched a painting hanging on the wall, feeling it through the air:

“…This is my mother.”

The painting depicted a beautiful woman. She had a pair of deep purple eyes, similar to Talli’s, as beautiful and profound as a violet gently blooming. When she looked at others, it was like a breeze brushing across one’s face, making one feel at peace.

“It’s been so long, so long that I can barely remember what she was like at first. All I remember is that since I was born, she always had a sorrowful look in her eyes.”

Carl continued to walk, leading her forward.

The further they went, the more the beautiful woman appeared to be like a wilting flower. Her beauty didn’t diminish, but her gaze grew increasingly sad, and her vitality slowly faded, the light in her eyes fading as well.

Until the final portrait.

Carl stopped in his tracks, his clenched hands trembling slightly, his voice rough:

“This painting… is the last one the artist made of my mother. I still remember that day, everyone was so happy, the news that my sister had been chosen as the Saintess was just announced, and the night before, my father hosted a celebration banquet at the mansion…”

Talli looked up.

The woman in the painting was still smiling, but the smile had lost all its soul and vitality. It was as if she was nothing more than a shell, gazing out of the frame with a strange light in her eyes, like the final glimpse of someone resigned to death, as if looking at something through the painting.

“…The next morning, my mother left this world.”

Carl lowered his head, his voice sinking as well, “Sister… Have I ever told you that your eyes look so much like my mother’s? …Both Theresa and I resemble Father a lot, but your eyes, when I first saw you, reminded me so much of her. That’s why, that day, I couldn’t help but take my anger out on you… I’m sorry.”

The eyes of a bastard child, so similar to the eyes of Fred’s true mistress.

It felt almost as if it had been tainted.

Those violet eyes had indeed struck Carl’s heart unexpectedly when he first saw them.

“Later, I always opposed you, and part of it was for that reason. What puzzled me, though, was that whenever Theresa was present, I couldn’t help but say hurtful things to you, as if that would provoke you somehow…”

Carl was much taller than Talli, but now he bowed his head in front of her, carefully holding her wet hand. Only dim yellow lights flickered in the corridor. Behind them, the water stains stretched on, and the dark marks beneath their feet slowly spread and connected.

“I’m not saying this to get sympathy… Sister, I just want to apologize. If you can forgive me… I hope you can gradually let go of the resentment in your heart and truly integrate into this family. We still have a long time to spend together, and I will make up for the mistakes I’ve made in the past.”

The rain was cold, but Carl’s palm was burning. His cheeks and ears were flushed, and he anxiously waited for Talli’s response.

But Talli did not directly answer his words.

Instead, she dried her right hand with magic, and then, through a thick layer of glass, she touched the image of Mrs. Fred in the painting. As she touched it, ripples spread across the glass, gradually fading away, and the figure in the portrait became clearer.

It was still those deep, violet eyes.

But the rest of the face had changed completely.

Talli heard her own low, hoarse voice echo in the long, quiet corridor:

“Madam… where is her grave?”

—

Theresa, who had fled in panic from Talli’s room, felt an overwhelming fear and collapse, the chaotic emotions almost causing her chest to explode. Her mind was a jumbled mess, and her sanity was on the verge of crumbling.

She didn’t know this was the consequence of confronting the arrogant monarch with his piercing gaze, she just stumbled down the stairs, barely catching herself from tumbling down, before leaning against the wall, gasping for air.

Her stomach churned.

The dim yellow light, which used to feel so comforting, now pierced her eyes, making them nearly impossible to open. Her body trembled violently as she crouched in the corner, hugging herself, hoping it would calm her emotions.

Two familiar figures passed in front of her.

When Theresa opened her eyes again, only two trails of water remained.

She shook her head, leaned against the wall, and stood up, following the water trails.

…It seemed like she saw Talli and Carl.

The fear hadn’t fully subsided, so was this an illusion?

But the continuing water stains clearly told Theresa: this was not her imagination.

This was real.

She struggled to hold onto the handrail, climbing up the stairs, reaching the fourth floor. The fourth floor… this was where her mother’s portrait was kept. It was her father’s forbidden area. She and Carl had never dared to come here, yet this time, he had brought Talli to this place.

Theresa hid behind the corner wall, secretly watching the two of them. Her vision was dim, and she couldn’t see clearly. Her ears had been ringing ever since she left the room, but even so, she distinctly heard Carl calling out “Sister” to the black-haired girl.

He held her hand, and her attitude toward him was entirely different from how she had treated Theresa earlier in the room.

She didn’t pull her hand away and even spoke to him calmly.

Although she couldn’t catch the words, Theresa could guess that they were talking about something related to her and Carl’s mother.

Talli’s purple eyes were so similar to their mother’s, and when she reached out to touch the portrait, Theresa’s vision blurred.

Mother.

It felt like the last defense line in Theresa’s heart had been shattered.

She took a few steps back, collapsed onto the ground, biting her lips tightly, covering her mouth with her hands to prevent herself from sobbing. Tears surged from her eyes, falling in large drops.

—

“Mother!!”

The little girl with golden hair smiled like a radiant sun. She had an angelic face, with light purple eyes that shimmered like glass, and her innocent smile made her seem like she had grown up in a jar of honey.

She stretched out her short arms, holding a flower crown made of violets, and walked toward the beautiful woman on the swing set.

The woman had lovely violet eyes, a clear and gentle face like a spring breeze, and a slender, graceful figure. She was sitting on the swing, one hand holding the vine, the other arm wrapped around a young boy, who was nestled in her embrace, seemingly telling a joke to make the woman laugh.

She didn’t know what the boy had said to make her laugh, but her beautiful eyes curved into crescent shapes, melting the hearts of anyone who saw her smile.

The little boy saw her first.

“Sister!”

He eagerly sat up from the woman’s lap and waved his hands at her.

The woman turned around.

But as soon as she saw her face, the smile on her face slowly faded. The crescent-shaped eyes disappeared, and sorrow, like mist, began to rise.

Theresa raised the violet flower crown high and happily said, “Mom, this is the flower crown I made for you!”

“…Hmm.”

The woman took the flower crown and forced a smile. “Thank you, Theresa.”

Theresa hesitated for a moment, looking at Carl, then glancing at the swing set. “…Mom, I want to sit next to you like Carl does.”

She lowered her head, feeling anxious. She waited for a long time, but only heard the gentle voice say:

“There’s no room on the swing set, sorry, Theresa. Why don’t you play with Carl? I’ll go back to my room now.”

With that, the woman picked up the young boy and placed him aside, saying, “Be nice to your sister, okay? I’ll go back now.”

Little Carl didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about the atmosphere. He waved his hands vigorously. “Goodbye, Mom!”

The woman left.

Theresa still kept her head down, standing in the same spot.

Her heart felt like a stone tied to a rope, slowly sinking to the bottom of the lake.

She looked up and saw the violet flower crown, the one she had spent so long making, left on the swaying swing, moving up and down alone.

The flower crown was soon picked up by Carl.

He held the crown, placed it on his head, and proudly showed it off to Theresa. “Look at me! I’m so handsome—”

A surge of resentment and unwillingness flooded Theresa’s heart.

She looked at the boy in front of her, wanting to rush over and tear the crown off, telling him, “This isn’t yours, don’t touch it,” and then warn him not to cling to their mother, attracting so much of her attention.

But in the end, she did nothing.

She knew that Carl was innocent. It was just that she was jealous and unwilling.

She was jealous that he always managed to steal the most of their mother’s attention, jealous that he could always make her happy, and jealous that he could spend an entire beautiful afternoon with her.

And when their mother looked at her, her eyes were filled only with unspeakable sadness.

Although she had never been harsh on her, young Theresa was always hurt by this subtle difference in treatment. In order to win her mother’s attention, to see the admiration in her eyes, she tried her best to be a good sister, a good daughter. She possessed outstanding magical talents, particularly with light magic, and was praised by teachers and classmates as a “genius.” She was the most distinguished and elegant young lady of the Fred family in the imperial capital, and she had been officially titled the Saint by the temple.

She did everything to the best of her ability.

But the woman’s vitality was gradually fading away.

The doctor said she had depression.

It was incurable.

It was as though all of her brilliance had drained the woman’s life force. After the celebration banquet where she was officially given the title of “Saint,” that lonely night, she hurt herself and died alone in a cold bathtub.

Carl was the first to find her.

From then on, he felt guilt and self-blame, and it became an indelible scar in his heart. He blamed himself for not finding her sooner, for not noticing that something was wrong with her earlier. He even blamed himself for the reason she had hurt herself and died.

— “It must have been because I wasn’t good enough, that I disappointed Mom.”

Carl always said this. He was mischievous, always causing trouble and never stopping to make mischief.

But only Theresa knew that their mother’s death was because of her.

She couldn’t forget her cold and sorrowful eyes. That look made her fall into such a gloomy memory when she first saw the black-haired girl who came to the Fred family.

“Why don’t you like me? I can be a good sister, I want to be your support.”

“Please don’t reject me so much, accept my kindness, Talli.”

“We’re family! You, me, and Father— we all share the Fred surname.”

“Please, don’t look at me like that, with that sad, indifferent, and disgusted look…”

“Please accept me, please recognize me…”

But all her words were so powerless and pale.

Talli, like their mother, always rejected her goodwill mercilessly, as if she were in a hurry to sever ties with her.

This time, she was even more direct and merciless, giving her a look of disgust, and stabbing her with sharp words.

—Yet she took the hand Carl extended to her.

They even shared things about their mother.

That was the deepest pain in Theresa’s heart.

…Their closeness made Theresa feel the sting once again. She once again became the failure in this relationship.

Tears flowed uncontrollably, as if she had lost control, and Theresa trembled as she stood up. She staggered down the stairs, using every ounce of her strength to return to her room.

She closed the door.

As if this would isolate her from everything.

—

Talli returned to her room.

She entered the bathroom and sank herself into the steaming, hot bathtub. She hugged her knees, closed her eyes, and recalled the painting she had seen.

—After touching the magical power that carried her essence, the painting gradually revealed its original form.

It was the image of the goddess she had encountered in the elf territory.

The same beauty, the same radiance. The difference was that the goddess in the painting wore a face full of sorrow.

What was she sorrowful about?

Was it because she didn’t want her own daughter to be treated differently by others, so she suppressed her elf bloodline, only to find that her human bloodline had no magical power at all, and in the end, she couldn’t prevent her from being sent away, replaced by the daughter of a stranger?

Even though she had protected her to live happily and healthily for over a decade, the two could never meet.

Mrs. Fred, the Elf Goddess.

If you knew that your daughter would eventually be despised, labeled as an illegitimate child, monitored by the family, chased by knights, and ultimately sacrificed on an altar, would you regret your decision?

Would you regret wanting her to live as an ordinary person, away from the racial conflicts, living a simple life? Would you regret marrying into the Fred family and becoming a noble? Would you regret bringing her into the world? Would you regret leaving the elf territory because of your fascination with the strange, vibrant human world?

And end up with such a fate?

She slowly slid deeper into the water, burying her face in her knees.

Outside the window, the rain still fell, but the rain gradually weakened, turning into a continuous drizzle, wrapping itself around her heart like an unshakeable fog.

—

“Mom.”

At that time, little Talli held her mother’s finger, standing under the eaves, watching the gentle rain fall.

Her mother held up a small umbrella, leaning toward her, walking down the steps with her.

The water gathered in streams, flowing slowly down the steps, disappearing into the dark drain opening.

Talli walked for a while, then suddenly stopped.

“Mom.”

She called out again.

The woman didn’t turn around. She only wearily asked, “What’s wrong?”

Little Talli closed her eyes. She remembered the constant, stuffy, and humid quarrels in the pitch-black house. She recalled the woman, always with a tired and worried expression on her face when she returned home. She remembered the glaring red notebook, quietly lying in the woman’s bag.

She asked, “Mom, have you ever regretted it?”

“…What?”

“Have you ever regretted having me?”

“…”

At that time, the woman didn’t answer her question.

Many years later, when she was lying in the hospital, just before being pushed into the operating room, Talli had gone to visit her. At that time, she sat by her hospital bed, her hand tightly clasped in the woman’s bony fingers, hidden under the hospital’s pale-colored blankets.

It was then that the woman finally answered.

“…Talli, I’ve regretted many things in my life. I’ve regretted my failed marriage, regretted the childhood I gave you, filled with indifference and trauma, regretted the endless orders and arguments during your important growth stages, regretted my past tyranny and lack of understanding that made you distance yourself from me for so long…”

“But the one thing I don’t regret is having you. My Talli.”

…Tears fell into the hot water.

For the first time, Talli felt a soreness in her eyes. She shakily stood up from the water, wiped herself dry, put on her clothes, until the tear stains dried up. She could no longer tell if it was her own emotions or the remnants of the original owner’s feelings.

She walked up to the bathroom door, leaning against it.

On the other side of the door, she could hear the even breathing of the young man. It seemed he was also leaning against the door, his body’s warmth reaching her, and his heartbeat steady and strong.

Talli pressed her water-streaked hand against the bathroom door.

Her shadow aligned with the one on the other side of the door.

She slowly sat down, turned her face, and pressed herself closely against him, through the door.

“Dusk.”

He didn’t speak, but Talli knew he was there.

He had always been by her side.

“Come with me to see her grave.”