Its effect was immediate. Anyone exposed would inhale the powder and fall asleep instantly, unable to wake for several hours.
After purchasing ten sleeping beads and a few other items, Lyzectus paid the sum. He managed my budget as both my guard and my capable steward.
20 hours remain.
Upon returning to the mansion, I was summoned to my father’s office, as expected.
Accompanied by Lyzectus, I entered to find my father, my brother, and the family’s trusted elderly steward present.
My father’s brow furrowed in annoyance. Lyzectus’s presence irked him, but Lyzectus wouldn’t leave my side. In contrast, the oppressive air Lyzectus emitted caused my father to flinch and stiffen.
Grinding his teeth, my father, ever eager to flaunt his superiority, spoke with a high-handed tone:
“Your next engagement has been arranged. It will be with a prince of the neighboring kingdom. The wedding date will be communicated when decided. That is all. Leave.”
I almost laughed.
Not a single word deviated from the novel.
I had already informed Lyzectus of what my father would say and of the actions I intended to take. He had accepted my plan.
In the novel, the obedient version of Elise would have been crushed, unable to speak words of defiance, swallowed by despair.
But I am different.
“I refuse.”
My father’s expression changed, his face paling at the single word—refuse—a word I had never spoken before.
“You ungrateful girl! You stole my beloved wife from me! You, yourself, killed her! I raised you, a mother-killer, and you dare defy me!”
His insults rained down as always, words like gusts of angry wind, meant to make me cower and obey.
“Mother-killer?”
My voice was cold as ice. Planting my feet firmly, I straightened my back, and from deep within me, I raised a voice of rebellion:
“No. No! I did not kill my mother!”
“You! You’re the one who killed Mother!”
I pointed an accusing finger at my father, my words woven with the thread of indictment.
“You cheated on her while she was pregnant with me! When she confronted you about it, you fought at the top of the stairs! Overcome with anger, your hand struck her, and she fell! But fearing scandal, you kept the truth hidden and blamed her death on childbirth complications—placing your crime on the shoulders of a newborn!”
“L-lies!”
My father stammered. His breath came shallow, cold sweat glistening on his brow.
“Mother-killer?”
I glared at him with eyes as cold as midwinter frost.
“What did you do after pinning your sins on a voiceless infant? You mistreated me, raised me to believe everything was my fault, that I was the cause of all tragedy. Tell me—was life comfortable for you, living so shamelessly after placing your guilt on your own daughter?”
My father paled.
The steward, his loyal accomplice, dropped his gaze.
My brother’s eyes widened, cracks forming in the world he had believed—that I was the mother-killer.
“Where’s your proof…?”
After hesitating briefly, my father muttered, his voice a low growl as though cornering me.
“It’s in the royal tomb. Mother died with a severe head injury. While her body has long since turned to bone, the evidence remains—a fracture in her skull. It was a mistake not to replace her remains before placing her in the royal crypt.”
At my calm words, my father’s shoulders sagged as if a heavy weight had fallen upon them.
His back bent, and his figure wilted as though he had aged ten years in an instant.
The real version of my father was a weak man. Weak enough to roar and posture to mask his frailty. Weak enough to avoid loving or acknowledging me.
I removed a hairpin from my hair, its pointed end sharp, and pricked my finger.
Plip. A small crimson bead bloomed like a flower on my fingertip.
I let the blood drip onto the magical safe on my father’s desk.
0 Comments