Chapter 33

Afrosa pondered how she could be of help to him. Alec’s mother might not have come from a wealthy family, but she was a young lady of a highly esteemed lineage.

Her father, Alec’s maternal grandfather, was one of the nation’s most prominent scholars. While the family wielded little political influence, it was still a fitting match for the imperial family. Moreover, the Castro family, though its strength had waned, was a house so steeped in history that its very existence was a testament to the nation’s legacy.

It was a family that had survived the ebb and flow of the nation’s trials, maintaining its lineage through the tumult of history.

Despite losing some of their wealth due to the mistakes of previous generations and enduring a modest lifestyle, they had managed to remain part of the noble society, never becoming outsiders. Afrosa couldn’t help but wonder what kind of family history could be so remarkable that even its struggles were regarded as dignified.

“I have nothing at all…”

Afrosa possessed nothing. She was a woman without a family to speak of. Her biological parents had passed away, and even if they were alive, they would have been of no help to her.

After becoming an orphan, she was adopted by a friar and given the surname “Katlyn,” but even her name wasn’t originally “Afrosa.”

Just as the surname “Katlyn” came from Brother Dallas, the name “Afrosa” had also been bestowed by him, her adoptive father. Her real name was…

“…It’s nothing.”

She had wanted to say that she wished to be of help to him, but she shook her head, swallowing the words she wanted to speak. Picking up her utensils, she poked at the cooked fish on her plate and chewed absentmindedly.

She couldn’t taste anything.

Even though she was eating fine food and wearing fine clothes, everything felt uncomfortable.

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A delightful fragrance filled the air. It was reminiscent of roses but not quite the scent of a living flower. It was sweeter, richer.

The refreshing, sugary aroma, like the faint whiff of freshly picked apricots, lingered in the space. Afrosa glanced around, feeling a sense of bewilderment at the space illuminated by a glowing light the hue of vibrant yellow quince.

The women gathered in small groups, all unfamiliar faces. They were impeccably adorned, stunningly beautiful, and their extravagant jewelry blended naturally with their elegance, making everything about them seem familiar and natural.

When the delicate music transitioned into a dance tune, the women broke away, laughing and chatting as they each found a partner. Afrosa alone remained, watching the men and women begin to whirl across the floor.

She tilted her head upward to gaze at the ceiling. Gold, sky blue, pink, and violet… murals painted with a masterful blend of colors depicted sacred scenes across the lofty expanse. The grand ceiling showcased tales of birth, miracles, blessings, and joy. Afrosa’s gaze lingered on cherubs blowing trumpets and knights wielding spears before she lowered her eyes again.

The open space was a ballroom, and no one seemed to notice her. It was as though she didn’t exist.

As she blinked and scanned her surroundings, the music ceased, and someone approached the red velvet chair at the top of a short flight of five steps.

The red velvet chair, heavily adorned with gold, was ornate and authoritative. The man who appeared to claim the seat was someone she recognized.

No, someone she knew intimately—someone who felt familiar, comforting, and… the man she loved above all else.

“Alec.”

Her voice rang clearly in her head, yet no one seemed to hear her call.

‘…The divine blessing shines upon the Empire. It is proclaimed that the Emphostium Empire has been graced with the birth of a great protector to secure and sustain its fate. Two years after the anguish of losing an imperial heir…’

The words were audible but somehow incomprehensible, as though they hovered just beyond clarity.

Alec’s face was more commanding than she had ever seen it. His steely gaze carried a weight and dignity rarely found in a man so young and handsome.

His features were familiar yet alien, his attire unfamiliar, and the tone of his voice unlike anything she had heard before—but strangely fitting. And yet, Afrosa felt she couldn’t endure it. The moment she saw him, she had the urge to flee. It felt as though she was trespassing somewhere she didn’t belong.

‘…Thus, joy and jubilation have returned to the Imperial family. The second empress’s pregnancy is a sign of fortune bestowed upon the Empire. I commend her, and I decree that you, too, shall honor and celebrate this blessing with devotion.’

Her heart plummeted. She wanted to cover her ears, to pierce her eardrums with needles to block out the sound.

Her pulse raced wildly, and her face flushed a deep crimson. Afrosa’s gaze locked on the beautiful woman standing beside Alec.

The woman, with her flowing black hair pinned high, was impossibly slender and graceful for someone expecting a child. Her green eyes sparkled like precious gems, exuding elegance and composure.

Her pristine, rounded shoulders were revealed beneath a puff-sleeved dress, the décolletage subtly accented with silver embroidery that was striking without being excessive.

The woman standing beside Alec suited him perfectly, in every possible way. As Afrosa’s gaze lingered on the woman’s still barely noticeable belly, she turned to look at Alec.

His steely eyes met hers. Afrosa, drowning in misery and an overwhelming sense of despair, felt her body cooling as if her anguish was slowly dissipating. Strangely, the more their gazes locked, the more the emotions consuming her seemed to scatter.

“You don’t have to be tied to this.”

Someone’s whisper echoed softly within her. Afrosa gasped as she looked at the couple standing side by side. Suddenly, she felt her shoulders gripped, and her breath caught. She turned her head abruptly.

“Run, Lara.”

Lara… The name flickered on her lips soundlessly. She blinked in confusion.

It was her own hands that were reaching out and shaking her, as if she might shatter if she didn’t flee. Her distorted reflection, filled with desperation and fear, was terrifying. Gasping for breath, Afrosa stared back at herself.

It was as if she were peering into her reflection in a disturbed pool of water. Her sharp and defined features were unmistakably hers yet felt foreign. She was herself, yet not herself.

“I… I…”

Afrosa stammered, shaking her head. It couldn’t be her. The person shouting at her to run with such a frantic expression couldn’t possibly be her.

“If you don’t run, you’ll only suffer more.”

Her lips pressed tightly together. She saw herself wearing a dazzling golden crown, shimmering as if crafted from fragments of stars, and a perfectly tailored deep navy dress. She was Afrosa, yet not the same.

Something about her had changed. She seemed older, as if she belonged to a different world. But no matter who or what she was, Afrosa felt an inexplicable dread.

Despite her opulent attire, she didn’t look good. The woman—her other self—stood adorned in garish finery that sparkled brighter than even the woman by Alec’s side, who carried his child. Her décolletage was embroidered with intricate gold thread, and delicate white lace gloves adorned her hands. Yet, none of it fit her.

It was inappropriate, unnatural, as though she were draped in something that didn’t belong to her. Though beautiful, it was absurdly out of place.

“You must leave while you have the chance.”

The tearful, distorted figure whispered again. The hands gripping her shoulders moved to clasp Aphrosa’s smaller hands, filling her with an overwhelming wave of desolation that nearly brought her to tears.

“It’s okay. Everything will be okay. Poor Lara.”

Lara.

She opened her eyes. Tears fell in the suffocating scent of peonies.

“There’s no one on your side here. If you don’t run, you’ll meet the same end. You and your child will die miserably and horribly. The man you love will abandon you, leaving your side every night to impregnate other women.”

“I… I…”

“You won’t be able to do anything. Your husband is a liar. He’ll string you along with promises he has no intention of keeping and then discard you.”

“W-what are you saying…?”

“And then, nothing will be left. The world will mock you, and your lowly origins will be exposed. You’ll become the most pitiful and ridiculous woman in existence.”

“N-no… no…”

“Run, Lara.”

She spoke the name Lara again. It was a name she hadn’t heard in a long time—no, a name from a time so distant it felt ancient. Not since she’d met the kind friar who had given her the name Afrosa had she heard it. So much so that for a time, she’d forgotten that Lara was her name.

And yet, it felt familiar. A past she thought had scattered like sand overwhelmed her. Nothing had changed. She was still Lara, a woman trying to bind herself to a man she could never truly belong to.

“Rose.”

Her shoulders were shaken roughly. Afrosa gasped as she woke from the dream, meeting her husband’s gaze. His expression was grave as his strong hands cupped her face tightly. Afrosa stared at him, her pale lips trembling.

Overlaid on his handsome face was the radiant smile of an unknown woman. With a convulsive jerk, Afrosa slapped his hands away and stumbled back. Alec’s expression hardened. An oppressive silence enveloped them. Afrosa, trembling with fear, could not stop shaking.

It was something she had never experienced before. Was it a dream or reality? Even as she shook her head to dispel the lingering image, the woman and Alec’s face kept reappearing.

The curly black hair. The jewel-like green eyes. The hands resting gently on her belly—the woman who carried Alec’s child.

“…And so, joy and celebration have returned to the imperial family. The Second Empress’s pregnancy is a blessing for the empire. I commend her, and I command all of you to offer your loyalty and congratulations.”

Afrosa’s eyelids fluttered uncontrollably, her lashes damp with unshed tears. The tears refused to fall. Finally, she retched. Doubling over, she clutched her aching stomach, gagging as she crawled out of bed.

Alec, who had been watching her with a piercing gaze, followed slowly.

“Lara.”

The echo of a phantom voice reverberated in her head. Afrosa shook her head violently, trying to bury the name she had long forgotten.

It’s a lie. It’s all a lie. She had never seen those things before. A dream was just a dream, no matter how vivid. It couldn’t influence reality—not even a little.

Nothing. Nothing…

“Lara.”

“Ugh…!”

Just as she reached for an empty basin in the bathroom to brace herself, the hollow voice resonated again in her mind. Her stomach churned violently. Vomiting, Afrosa couldn’t stop replaying the vision of that woman. Not the elegant woman carrying Alec’s child, but herself.

The woman with the radiant crown that seemed pieced together from fragments of broken stars, yet who looked so pitiful and weak despite her splendor. The woman whose chest was embroidered with golden threads symbolizing the imperial family, yet who appeared impoverished and absurd. That woman’s whispered words…

“There’s no one on your side here. If you don’t run, you’ll meet the same end.”

“Rose.”

A low, steady voice called her name.

“You and your child will die miserably and horribly. The man you love will abandon you, leaving your side every night to impregnate other women.”

Her jaw quivered violently. Her hands trembled as they clutched the basin. Her cold fingertips began to sweat.

“You won’t be able to do anything.”

“Rose.”

Her legs, which had been holding her upright with great effort, finally gave out. Afrosa collapsed onto the floor. Alec caught her frail body and met her gaze.

“Your husband is a liar. He’ll string you along with promises he has no intention of keeping and then discard you. And then, nothing will be left. The world will mock you, and your lowly origins will be exposed. You’ll become the most pitiful and ridiculous woman in existence.”