Trampled and Broken (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 13
Aslan instinctively held his breath. There was no need to ask who it was.
Not only could he sense no killing intent whatsoever, but the intruder—who had secretly entered this abandoned palace—had made no effort to conceal their presence, leading Aslan to believe he would soon discern their identity.
‘No, to be precise, it seems they simply don’t know how to suppress their presence.’
Aslan tightly bit his lip and slowly turned around.
Unconsciously, he sucked in a sharp breath and froze on the spot.
“……!”
His pupils dilated.
A doll-like girl stood right before him.
It was as if someone had spun thread from the moonlight of that night sky and woven it into a human-shaped doll—she would surely look just like the girl before his eyes.
The thought crossed his mind almost involuntarily.
Though she still looked young, she exuded an aura that made it impossible to treat her carelessly.
To Aslan, the capital was an utterly unfamiliar place.
Spring, summer, and autumn—
All the colors Kalati had lost were here.
The boy felt profoundly like a stranger.
And lonely.
With nowhere to turn, nowhere to rest his heart,
this foreign land made him uncomfortable.
Yet for the first time, here in the south—indeed, within the royal palace itself—he had encountered Kalati.
In an instant, his gaze was completely stolen by Hestia.
There stood the Kalati he had left behind.
A girl as white as fresh snow.
Yet contrary to appearances, she was anything but cold—a spring fairy smiled gently at him.
‘A fairy?’
Though he had never believed in such things in his life, Aslan found himself thinking exactly that.
The girl before him simply didn’t seem real.
While he stood there dumbly staring at her,
a cascade of silver threads poured down like a waterfall to one side.
At that moment, Aslan felt every muscle in his body tense up and stiffen instantly.
Without blinking even once, the girl looked straight at him and asked,
“Why are you crying?”
“……What?”
Aslan unconsciously furrowed his brow. A beat late, he blinked—and in that instant, something cold clinging to his lashes slid down his cheek.
‘Damn it.’
He hastily turned his head aside and roughly wiped away the tears with his palm.
“Who’s crying.”
He’d only managed to hurriedly dry the moisture, but he didn’t doubt the darkness would hide the rest and the wind would dry what remained.
Ahem. Ahem.
Clearing his throat lightly, Aslan forced his voice into a neutral tone and looked back at the girl.
“But who are you? How did you get here?”
“I just… feel most comfortable here.”
To Aslan, her words made no sense at all.
The girl, who hadn’t revealed her name, kept her head bowed low and began fiddling nervously with her clasped fingers.
Judging by her attire, she wasn’t palace staff but rather the young daughter of some noble family who’d attended tonight’s party with her parents.
Aslan stared down at her silently for a moment before speaking bluntly.
“Your parents will worry. Go back to the party.”
“My parents… aren’t here.”
Aslan’s movement jerked to an unnatural halt. He muttered a quiet curse under his breath and clenched his teeth.
Meanwhile, the girl continued in a voice so lonely it seemed she might vanish at any moment,
“They’ve passed away.”
Aslan drew in a deep breath.
This was too heavy a topic—he had no idea what words to offer her in return.
“They say I can’t live here anymore.”
Her voice trembled so finely it seemed ready to break into sobs at any second.
For a moment, Aslan made a face as if thinking, ‘If she starts crying, this’ll be a hassle.’
He had no idea how to care for children, let alone how to comfort them.
Yet despite the clear tears gathering in her large eyes, she didn’t let them fall.
“This used to be my home…”
Aslan narrowed his eyes.
‘Her home?’
Did that mean she wasn’t just nobility—but royalty?
Suddenly, a figure came to mind.
‘Could it be?’
Only then did he begin to guess her true identity.
A girl whose parents had passed away and who once lived here—
She must surely be Hestia Elsword, who had awakened as a Saint last year.
He’d even heard she’d moved to the temple, after which he’d paid her no further attention.
‘So she’s attending the party celebrating King Yorgos’s birthday.’
Aslan now knew the girl before him was both a Saint and a princess, yet strangely, he felt no urge to address her formally.
‘She doesn’t seem to mind either, so it should be fine, right?’
Aslan gave a slight shrug of his broad shoulders.
Still, he thought it best to confirm properly, so he asked,
“Did you live here before?”
The girl’s almond-shaped eyes widened into perfect circles, then she cautiously nodded.
“Yes. I lived here. Oh—my apologies for the late introduction. My name is Hestia.”
Of course.
Aslan clicked his tongue inwardly.
No wonder the palace’s colors had seemed overly bright to him, and the furnishings so quaintly delicate.
“I live here now.”
“Oh… I see.”
A blush spread across her pale cheeks.
“I’m glad. I was worried it might be forgotten entirely… It’s good that someone nice is using it.”
Just what about him made her think he was “nice”?
But faced with that sweet, smiling face, Aslan couldn’t bring himself to correct her—he simply pressed his lips shut.
Feeling awkward, he averted his gaze and scratched the bridge of his nose, sensing their conversation was running dry.
He jerked his chin toward the banquet hall and said,
“Go back inside quickly. Someone will come looking for you—don’t cause a commotion here unnecessarily.”
Why did his words keep coming out so gruffly? Aslan cursed himself inwardly.
The girl’s expression dimmed briefly before she reluctantly nodded.
But instead of leaving right away, she hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him again.
“But…”
“Hmm?”
“It’s not like I live at the temple all the time.”
“……?”
Aslan tilted his head ever so slightly. He couldn’t immediately understand why she was telling him this.
Unsure how to respond, he simply frowned and said nothing.
“I can come back once or twice a year. Um… sometimes up to six times.”
When he remained silent, Hestia grew anxious and carefully asked again,
“So… does that mean I can come visit again?”
Visit to see what?
His question was answered the moment he looked at Hestia’s face.
Her violet eyes were fixed on him with unwavering sincerity.
‘She wants to come see me again?’
Fifteen-year-old Aslan was young. He missed human connection. So… he nodded.
And so it must have begun then—
The moment Aslan started waiting eagerly for that tiny girl, whose head barely reached his shoulder.
.
.
.
When Hestia asked if she could visit occasionally, Aslan answered with a simple nod.
After that, whenever grand gatherings or events were held at the palace, Hestia would secretly slip away and faithfully visit Aslan’s residence.
He, too, who had never paid much attention to palace affairs before, began noting the dates of major events in advance—and on those nights, he would be waiting outside.
〈Might as well stretch my legs.〉
It was a flimsy excuse at best, but he needed even that much to justify it to himself.
Though he hated to admit it, Aslan waited for Hestia.
Perhaps it was because every color that composed her felt like the most familiar hues of Kalati to him.
She was the only one who sought him out first, the only one who spoke to him despite his isolation—even though they shared no common ground.
Of course, he knew.
It was quite possible Hestia did this not for “him,” but for the “place.”
‘Even so.’
Whenever he halfheartedly swung his wooden practice sword, lost in thought, Hestia would always approach with a smile as clear as sunlight and greet him.
〈It’s been a while, my lord. Have you been well?〉
〈…As you can see.〉
Yet despite this, their relationship never grew any closer.
It couldn’t be helped.
They only met once every few months, exchanging brief, awkward greetings.
How could they possibly develop any deeper connection?
Aslan wasn’t the sociable or warm type, not even out of politeness, and Hestia was shy—so their relationship remained virtually unchanged from the beginning.
〈Then I’ll quietly take my leave. Please continue what you were doing, my lord.〉
They exchanged greetings, but conversation rarely followed—and each simply went about their own business.
Hestia never entered the palace itself, instead strolling through the garden.
Unlike other palaces, this one had a pond in its garden with notably deep water.
Her steps always led her there, and she would stand for a long while on the small bridge crossing the pond.
Aslan knew that spot offered the best view of the entire palace, so Hestia’s behavior didn’t seem odd to him.
‘She’s probably reminiscing about the time she lived here.’
Not wanting to disturb her thoughts, Aslan never approached to speak.
He always watched until Hestia stopped in the middle of the bridge, then turned his gaze away.
Thus, they each spent their time separately.
However, Aslan never went indoors while Hestia stood on that bridge.
And one more thing—
No matter what else he did, his full attention always remained fixed on Hestia.
Like a compass.
No matter how many times he tried forcing his focus elsewhere, it never strayed from her direction.
Male lead is a clingy little husband
One-line summary: The male lead is initially an arrogant, noble, love-deprived brat, later a cute, clingy, scheming little jealous one.
Introduction:
One day, Lu Yuner’s soul transmigrates into a female-dominant world. She enters the Imperial Academy and takes up the position of a doctoral instructor, teaching classes and grading schoolwork.
One day, she encounters the young prince Su Qingwan secretly skipping class from the male academy.
As a result, Su Qingwan is punished.
From then on, Su Qingwan sees Lu Yuner as a “thorn in his side”.
But before long, this “thorn” becomes the person he cherishes most, and he goes to great lengths to win Lu Yuner’s affection.
Mini scene 1:
One day, the sun is high in the sky but Su Qingwan still hasn’t gotten up for class.
Servant Xiaoyuan: “Young prince, it’s time for class. You’ll be late otherwise.”
Su Qingwan says arrogantly: “I’m not going. I am the esteemed prince, my status is so noble, why should I suffer this hardship? Besides, isn’t learning all this just to please women? Hmph, they’re not worthy!”
Mini scene 2:
After Su Qingwan falls for someone, he completely changes. He no longer skips class and diligently learns how to be a good husband and father. But he discovers that Sister Yuner is always surrounded by admirers.
Drunk and overcome with jealousy one day, he clings to Lu Yuner, crying beautifully like a pear blossom in the rain.
Su Qingwan: “Qingwan likes Sister Yuner.”
Lu Yuner: “Young prince, you’re drunk.”
Su Qingwan: “Qingwan isn’t drunk. Qingwan likes Sister Yuner, likes you so much, likes you to bits…” Before he can finish, Lu Yuner’s eyes flash with emotion and she leans in closer.
[Reading Guide]
1. The female lead is gentle, gracious, humble and polite but not weak. The male lead is initially an arrogant, noble, love-deprived brat, later a cute, clingy, scheming little jealous one.
2. 1v1, a bit torturous in the beginning but definitely sweet later on.
_____
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