"Secret?"
"Yes. It's the story of my life."
So Lamia knelt there and began to tell her story—something she had never shared with anyone before.
And her story amazed me from the very first sentence.
"My original name is Lamia Yeblak. I am a descendant of the Yeblak family—the royal house of the now-defunct Kingdom of Stony."
"What?!"
Stony had been a small kingdom in the southeastern part of the continent, destroyed by Arrental long ago.
The House of Yeblak was the royal family of the Kingdom of Stony.
Lamia's expression was so deadly serious that I couldn't dismiss her words as some kind of jest.
"You're... descended from royalty?"
"It doesn't mean anything anymore."
"Why would it be meaningless? Isn't the current Master of the Magic Tower from the Yeblak family?"
The Tower had been built on the ruins of the old Kingdom of Stony.
Among the people of the Kingdom of Stony, many were born with powerful magical abilities. It had been said since ancient times that most great magicians were born in Stony.
Even after losing their kingdom, the people of Stony hadn't dispersed. Instead, they'd built a tower on that very site to preserve the legacy of their fallen nation.
"Well, I've heard that much. But I don't know much about the family itself. The kingdom fell long before my parents were even born."
"That's true, but still—"
"I was born just as the Yeblak family was on the verge of collapse. I was sold into a political marriage when I was very young. I left my family when I was eight years old."
It was surprising enough that Lamia came from the Yeblak royal family.
But it was even more shocking to learn she'd been married off for political reasons at the age of eight.
"How can someone so young be married?! Isn't early marriage illegal?"
"That's a law established by the Arrental Imperial Family. There are many places within Arrental's borders that lie far beyond the reach of imperial authority. It's an empire with vast territory—too vast to police every corner."
That was true enough.
Even though Ronheim had been subjugated by Arrental, it still maintained its own culture and lived according to its own customs.
Lamia continued speaking.
"I was abused by my stepmother until I was eight. Then, after I was married, I was abused by my in-laws—and later by my husband."
"I couldn't bear it anymore. So when I was sixteen, I ran away from my husband."
I was speechless.
I simply stared down at Lamia's bowed head, unable to find words.
It wasn't just my life that was strange and difficult.
Lamia's life has been just as hard as mine.
"I ran away and barely managed to get work as a maid at a farmhouse. One day, while helping a sow give birth, I accidentally killed a piglet. I was kicked out immediately and became a wanderer."
"..."
"A man approached me while I was begging on the streets. He was incredibly kind. I trusted him and followed him—and that's how I started my life as a gypsy."
"..."
"But the once-kind man suddenly changed whenever he got drunk. He started swinging his fists at every opportunity. I had to run away again."
"..."
"I wandered among the gypsies, moving from one group to another. I slept on the streets. I ate abandoned food. And yes—I enjoyed the freedom of the men I met along the way."
So it hadn't been a lie when she'd said she had multiple husbands and lovers.
"But there was someone among them I truly loved. He was different from all the others. We decided to give up our gypsy life and settle down together. The happiness I'd finally found didn't last long, though."
"Why? What happened?"
"One day, I was falsely accused of theft by a merchant and thrown in jail. As I was being dragged away, he shouted, 'Trust me! Everything will be all right! I'll save you!' I believed him—the man I loved. But..."
Lamia's expression twisted with old pain.
"He had the heart and the desire to save me. But he didn't have the power."
She clutched the hem of her skirt as though the memory still made her furious.
The fabric crumpled limply in her tightly clenched fist.
"That's when I realized. I was the only one who could protect myself. No one would protect me. And no one could."
Suddenly, I remembered what had happened yesterday.
What Lamia had said when she'd been caught trying to escape—when Granada dragged her back to the banquet hall.
"I believed in you, Madam. But I didn't believe in what was going to happen to you and me. My life is my own. I couldn't leave it in the hands of others."
She'd said that because of these experiences.
She believed in my desire to help her—but she didn't believe I had the power to save her.
"I ran desperately after that. It was the first time I ever used magic. No one taught me how—it just happened instinctively. After escaping like that, I became a loner again, wandering the country."
"..."
"Then, recently, a gypsy friend I'd met sold me to Empress Kavala. For some reason, he made me drink heavily that night. I was so drunk I don't remember much—but I saw him hand me over to someone and receive money."
"..."
"I was locked in a box and taken to the Empress's palace. The rest of the story is, as you know, Madam."
I was speechless.
I couldn't say anything as she calmly told her story without shedding a single tear.
I can't compare someone else's misfortune to my own... but she's lived a life just as difficult as mine.
I quietly climbed off the bed and sat down on the floor in front of her.
Then I took her hands in mine.
Lamia seemed startled that I was kneeling across from her in the same position—holding her hands like an equal.
Her voice, which had been so calm until then, began to tremble slightly.
"The reason I'm telling you this story is..."
She fell silent for a while, unable to continue. It was as though something had caught in her throat.
I waited quietly, simply holding her hands.
A screaming silence flowed between us.
All I could do was offer her my presence, my understanding.
After a long moment spent suppressing her emotions, Lamia continued speaking—her voice calm once more.
"I felt like you could protect me, Madam. I felt it yesterday. I realized I could trust you with my life."
"Lamia..."
She pulled her hands from mine—only to grasp them tightly in hers instead.
"I want to settle down. I don't want to wander anymore. Can you please... let me stay here?"
"...!"
"I don't want to leave! Please let me stay by your side! I'll do my very best!"
The look in her eyes as she gazed up at me was achingly earnest.
I hugged her tightly.
"Stay by my side, Lamia. Let's be happy here—together—from now on."
Let us both stay rooted in this Ronheim. Let us fight desperately to prevent misfortune from swallowing us ever again.
I was so glad that Lamia had said she wouldn't leave.
I had wanted to hold onto her when she kept insisting on leaving—but I hadn't been able to bring myself to say it.
"Really? You mean it?"
"Yes. Stay."
"Thank you!"
Lamia's face, which had been taut with tension, finally relaxed.
"I can't tell you how much I've been agonizing all night about whether to tell you this story."
"You must have been in so much pain, Lamia."
"I thought you might not accept me, Madam..."
"No. Never. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad I'm not lonely anymore."
We hugged each other for a while longer, talking quietly.
After some time passed, Lamia pulled back and stared at me intently.
She looked much more relaxed than when she'd first brought up her past.
"But, Madam..."
"Yes?"
"I've been wondering about this for a while now."
"What is it?"
Lamia held her stomach and laughed heartily.
Then she gathered up some snow that had accumulated on the windowsill, wrapped it in a handkerchief, and held it gently to my eyes.
I lay down and received the cold compress from Lamia, asking the same question over and over again.
"Is it really that strange-looking?"
And Lamia gave an overly honest answer.
"No, you're still incredibly beautiful. It's just funny."
"What?!"
"Stay still! Do you want to wander around looking like this all day?"
"Ugh..."
Thanks to Lamia's diligent efforts, my puffy eyelids finally returned to normal around noon.
It was around that time when Mainz arrived looking unusually excited with a report.
Apparently, the servants who had gone to entrust the Vermis mushrooms to the Szeged merchants—and the knights who had disposed of Kavala's treasures—had all returned to Ronheim.
"Prepare a banquet for our returning guests. Make sure they're thanked properly for their hard work."
"Yes, of course, Madam. But there's something else..."
"What is it?"
Mainz delivered unexpected news.
"Among those who returned, there is a guest of yours, Madam. He wishes to see you."
"My... guest?"
To Be Continued...
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