Married To The Enemy Kingdom's Illegitimate Prince -
Chapter 39 — Her Memories
Chapter 39: 39 — Her Memories
Feeling the warmth of Cynthia’s soft lips against his skin, Lucian froze, too stunned to react. Then, with a sudden burst of anger, he shoved her away, not caring if it hurt her.
"H-How could you?" he stammered, still reeling from the shock of the kiss.
"Why? Have you never been kissed before?" Cynthia’s tone was calm, almost indifferent. "This isn’t your first time. It’s not even our first," she added, wiping her lips gently, her gaze unwavering as she met his furious glare.
Without another word, Lucian stormed out, the door slamming violently behind him.
As he stalked down the hallway, his thoughts spun, struggling to make sense of what had just happened.
"Why did she do that? There’s no love between us... so why?" he muttered to himself, leaning against the wall, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"Of course. It wasn’t about love. She probably does this with others—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "No... she was terrible at it. There’s no way."
He scoffed, pushing off the wall, still unsettled by the encounter. Reaching his room, he grabbed the water bottle on his nightstand, opened the lid, and furiously rubbed his lips with a few drops of water, as if trying to erase the memory.
[Now, now. Why don’t you just kill her? Everything about her will disappear once her body turns to ashes,] a voice taunted inside his mind, followed by a low, mocking laugh.
"Go away," Lucian growled, slamming the bottle back onto the table.
***
As the door slammed shut, Cynthia flinched at the sound, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart still raced from the kiss, but now, only emptiness remained.
She raised trembling fingers to her lips, lightly brushing them as if trying to hold onto the fleeting sensation. But as the emptiness settled in, a tear slipped down her cheek, quickly followed by more she could no longer suppress.
Slowly, her legs gave out beneath her, and she sank to the floor, crushed beneath the weight of her memories.
"Don’t do this to me, Lucian... not again," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I won’t be able to handle it..."
She had been waiting for Lucian to return. At dinner, she’d asked Philip about his whereabouts, only to receive a brief, evasive answer.
"He went out. He said not to wait for him and to go to bed," Philip had said, but Cynthia knew it was a lie—Philip was merely being considerate.
As the sky turned from bright blue to a peach-orange hue mixed with violet, she had waited at the mansion’s entrance, watching the sunset and the evening fade into the night.
With every passing hour, worry gnawed at her.
"Nothing can happen to him. Those demons can’t hurt him," she repeated to herself. But doubt crept in. Everything in this life had started to shift, and she feared her ambitions would ruin not only herself but those around her.
She wanted revenge against Lucian, against King Valerian, against Selvarys. But she didn’t want him dead. She knew he had been fighting demons, chasing them down as their numbers grew.
She had sent her people to investigate, Arlot among them, but even he could only offer a vague explanation. "The demons appeared from Tervland," he’d told her.
The strangest part was the frequency of their appearances in Selvarys. Eldoria was closer to Tervland, yet more demons plagued Selvarys. She couldn’t understand why.
Her legs ached from standing for hours. Unable to bear it any longer, she sat by the stairs as the number of servants in the hallway dwindled. It was growing late—ten o’clock, according to the clock—and still, Lucian hadn’t returned.
Before she knew it, she had drifted into a light sleep.
When Cynthia first stirred awake, she felt Lucian’s muscular arm holding her, though she couldn’t fully wake up. He might have dropped her if he’d known she was conscious.
After placing her on the bed, she heard his footsteps moving around her room. Opening her eyes just a sliver, she saw him rifling through her belongings.
The sight irritated her, even though she wasn’t surprised.
Lucian’s kindness in carrying her back had felt hollow. The distrust in his actions stung more than anything. For once, she wished he would let his guard down if only a little.
What could she do to make him trust her, to believe in her just enough?
For a fleeting moment, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as awful as she remembered. But then the memories of her past life came rushing back. He hadn’t changed.
Even in her past life, he’d shown her glimpses of care only to disappear for months, not even bothering himself to send her letters or give her news about his whereabouts.
In his absence, the maids—emboldened by the grand duke’s indifference—tormented her. They gave her cold water to bathe in and even placed insects beneath her bed. Sometimes, they poisoned her food—not enough to be deadly, but enough to make her sick for weeks, leaving her bedridden and unable to move.
No matter how loudly she screamed for help, no one came.
Not even her husband, Grand Duke Lucian.
Yet, she had clung to the hope that when he finally returned, he would listen to her complaints. That he would punish those who had wronged her. She wanted to punish them but Elene, the head maid, wielded all the power in the household, and Cynthia was nothing more than a hostage from Eldoria. She wasn’t even considered as the grand duchess.
When Lucian did return, it wasn’t to comfort her. He brought another woman. In their world, once a man brought another woman into his home, his wife’s worth crumbled. But Cynthia had never had any worth, to begin with.
Even that day, she was waiting for him for hours because she received news of his arrival. But her heart shattered into pieces at the side of the blonde-haired young lady standing beside him, her arms wrapped around his as she clung to him.
"Who is that?.." she forced a smile on her lips despite her quivering hands.
"She’ll be staying here from now on."
With a cold and dry reply, Lucian walked past her as if she were no less than a servant to whom he had honoured by giving an answer when he didn’t even have to.
She quickly turned despite his cold behaviour and screamed his name but he turned deaf to her voice.
"Why are you doing this?.." she sniffled, tears flowing down her cheeks.
***
Hearing the loud crash of breaking glass, Cynthia jolted awake.
She found herself sitting on the cold floor, her arms wrapped around her legs.
Quickly glancing around, she spotted a few masked men dressed in black, standing before her.
With a soft laugh, she rose to her feet, casually brushing off her dress.
The men flinched, expecting her to scream. Instead, she laughed as if something amusing was happening.
"We are here to kill you!" one of the men announced, pointing a sword at her neck.
"Oh, are you?" she replied, smiling as her violet eyes glimmered in the room’s darkness. "Then go ahead."
The men exchanged confused glances, her calmness unsettling them.
"Are you really here to kill me?" Her voice was hoarse, her tone serious.
Ugh... I hate crying.
She sighed, looking the men over.
"One, two, three... five?" She raised an eyebrow. "That’s it?"
"W-what do you mean, ’that’s it’?" one of the men snapped, unsheathing his sword.
"I was just expecting more. It has been a while since these assassination attempts took place, you see. Hmm. How about a fair fight?" Cynthia suggested, gesturing toward the broken window.
"Fair fight? You must be joking. We’re here to ki—"
The man froze mid-sentence, a sharp blade piercing his chest.
Using the man who had the sword at her throat as leverage, Cynthia stabbed the other with swift precision. She scoffed as the man collapsed, dropping his sword.
The remaining four men stared at each other, baffled by the turn of events.
She didn’t even have a weapon, and she managed to kill one of them?!
"Let’s get out of here!" one of them shouted.
They scrambled for the door, dragging their fallen comrade’s body behind them.
Cynthia exhaled deeply and sank back to the floor, leaning against the wall. Her hand reached toward the nightstand, gently rubbing the necklace hidden inside.
"Ah, I thought Lucian found it," she chuckled softly, still caressing the pendant.
A violet light flickered, and Arlot appeared in the room.
He glanced at the scene, unsurprised, though his gaze softened when it landed on the silver-haired woman slumped on the floor.
"Why’d you call?" he asked, taking a lock of her hair and gazing into her tired eyes.
"Clean up," she said with a faint, hollow smile.
Arlot nodded, snapping his fingers as the blood-stained floor returned to its pristine state.
"Now, tell me," he murmured, brushing a finger across her reddened eyes. "Have you been crying?"
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