Although it was merely a replay of memories, with many scenes and figures already blurred, little Miss Maria could still glimpse the splendor of Cainhurst Castle amidst the battle — a battle where blood spilled everywhere, where slaughter was unending, and where lives were relentlessly taken.
Or perhaps, it would be more accurate to call it former splendor.
In this memory recollection, Maria vaguely sensed no fewer than three Gold-rank powerhouses locked in a deadly duel outside the snowbound castle. The earth-shaking, calamity-like momentum shook not only the walls, but the heart as well.
Maria seriously considered that if this ancient castle, now preserved as a heritage site, hadn’t been so solidly built, it would have been destroyed long ago by the collateral damage of such clashes.
Fortunately, Cainhurst Castle was sturdier than it looked.
If this had happened in reality, and she witnessed Gold-rank powerhouses stabbing each other in the back, Maria would have run as far as possible to avoid being caught in the crossfire and dying a pointless death. But in the illusion of memory, her will was as unyielding as forged steel. So long as she believed she wouldn’t die, then in this vision, she would remain unharmed.
“Couldn’t you at least give me a change of clothes?”
Grumbling at the white silk nightgown on her loli-sized body, Maria glanced down at her completely flat chest. Suddenly, she felt an unusually sincere longing for the bountiful, pleasing figure hidden beneath her voluminous nun’s robes in reality.
“Or is a white silk nightgown the standard loadout for a loli?”
Having long learned to find humor amidst suffering, and momentarily freed from the suffocating pressure of the real world, Maria allowed herself to relax and let go a little.
The world’s suffering — without small joys, would it not be despair?
Her figure, hopping atop piles of corpses, was a bit unsettling. The piercing chill in the memory was so real she soon felt her limbs go numb. Unable to move nimbly, she clumsily fell into a mound of bodies. Maria saw many Cainhurst warriors who had died with eyes still open, each carrying the lingering essence of potent blood, as though the entire world had become a canvas of red, white, and black.
“Tripped by corpses while running away,” she murmured, recalling the fear and sorrow of that past escape.
Among these countless corpses… were there familiar faces?
“Sorrow, fear… and the shame of being unable to save lives. The revulsion of watching one’s kin turn into beasts. A child’s heart, too pure, bore far more than it should have.” Maria touched her chest — still flat, without the faintest rise.
Standing again, she found her hands and nightgown stained crimson.
Curiously, the bloodstains could not be wiped away and seemed to consciously spread, slowly consuming the white silk.
After a few futile attempts, Maria gave up. She sharply sensed she had to reach the castle’s keep before her nightgown was completely dyed red. For within those walls, there might be someone — perhaps the very instigator of this rebellion and coup.
She eyed the distance, then looked at her small, bare feet, sighing in resignation before running across the snow.
Thankfully, this was not reality; running here was merely a concept.
Like the most absurd of dreams, the moment she realized it, she had already stepped into the castle’s grand hall. Opulent, lavish, with marble floors polished enough to reflect her delicate face, and a décor of gold and splendor that spoke of the overwhelming wealth and power of this ancient fortress.
By comparison, the carriage that had carried her out of the north eight years ago was pauper’s fare.
“Who… who’s there?”
The instant Maria entered, a woman seated in the lavish throne-like chair noticed her. This noblewoman, dressed in aristocratic finery, had a bosom so snowy white it made the eyes ache to look. When she stood, the curve’s sway made Maria half-wonder if that soft weight might spill from the thin gown at any moment. Even as a fellow woman, Maria’s gaze turned oddly toward that “noble standard.”
Had she grown up in Cainhurst, would she have ended up like this?
“Maria? Is that you? Why… why would you come back?”
So white, so big—
Ahem. So much information.
“I will never forgive you!” Maria blurted before she could think, voicing the truest emotions in her heart. Her anger, her grief, her hatred toward the betrayer who could never be forgiven — all gnawed at her young soul. She even despised her own kindness, believing that without it, perhaps this tragedy would never have happened.
“I’m sorry, Maria. This is the fate of the Cainhurst bloodline. Your mother — my sister — abandoned the great mission. I had no choice… Please forgive me. Forgive me. Everything… was for the great mission.” The aristocratic woman covered her face and wept, just as she did in Maria’s memories.
Clearly, there was a deeper truth to Cainhurst’s coup. Maria considered this with a calm heart.
It seemed this relative had played a pivotal role in the rebellion. And Maria, through her own kindness, had missed the chance to end it at the root.
No wonder she loathed herself and her identity so deeply.
But the Maria who once carried that guilt was gone. The Maria of now could watch this tangled web of noble grudges with cold detachment. If this was the past, then she had the will to shatter it and once again embrace her Cainhurst heritage!
“Whether I forgive you… will be decided by time and truth.”
Finally speaking with her own will, Maria’s crisp, cold voice became a force that began to unravel the illusion. Her will would completely replace the past and become the true Maria von Cainhurst.
“I await you… my love.” Newest update provided by novel⁂fire.net
The noblewoman’s words made Maria — unfamiliar with such tangled aristocratic scandals — darken in expression. Apparently, Cainhurst’s grudges were even messier than she thought.
Before she could gather herself, the woman was suddenly before her. In Maria’s view, the “noble standard” — large and white — loomed ever closer.
Eh?!
Feeling humiliated in a certain way, Maria tried to struggle, but the next moment, her lips and teeth were pried apart by a deft tongue. A rich, intoxicating blood flowed into her mouth, stolen through that invasive contact.
Drink of this forbidden blood.
We are the immortal lives favored by the highest — the Cainhurst bloodline!
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