Trampled and Broken (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 14
Strangely enough, Aslan lowered his speech level to Hestia, and she raised hers to him, who was of ducal rank.
〈There’s no one else around to see us anyway. Let’s just be comfortable.〉
Hestia’s primary residence was the temple, but she always returned to the palace for New Year’s and royal ceremonies.
Though it was a rather inappropriate word to use about a person, to put it bluntly, it was because Yorgos was reluctant to fully relinquish his claim over her to the temple.
Thanks to that, Hestia came to the palace far more often than Aslan had expected, and each time, as if determined to keep her promise, she reliably sought him out.
That day, too, was one when Hestia—who had been out of sight for a while—finally showed her face again.
Though inwardly glad, he feigned indifference and asked her with feigned concern,
“Is it really alright for you to be out here like this?”
She nodded immediately.
Contrary to Aslan’s expectations, no one looked for Hestia even when she disappeared midway through banquets.
Though she was both a princess and a saintess, she belonged to no group because she was still considered merely a “child.”
Hestia nodded right away in response to Aslan’s question.
“After all, Archdeacon Boswa makes every decision. If there’s anything I need to know, he’ll tell me tomorrow.”
She was a saintess yet held no authority whatsoever.
She was merely a symbolic figure—nothing more, nothing less.
Yet Hestia harbored neither complaints nor doubts about her situation.
She was still young, and no one had ever taught her what she ought to do.
Aslan suppressed the urge to click his tongue in frustration.
“They really use her however suits them.”
At his cold remark, Hestia turned toward him with an innocent expression.
“What do you mean by that?”
The moment their eyes met—hers violet—Aslan clenched his teeth unconsciously and held his breath, then slowly exhaled as he shook his head a beat too late.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Though he brushed it off vaguely, Hestia thankfully didn’t press further.
Why didn’t she understand her own worth?
Hestia was the kingdom’s sole legitimate princess and saintess.
To neglect such a person in every gathering solely because of her youth felt unmistakably like political maneuvering.
‘Though she herself probably doesn’t see it that way.’
Aslan stole a sidelong glance at Hestia and held back a sigh.
For instance, if Hestia were to utter even a single word like, “I feel left out,” or “It hurts,” it could spark hostility between the royal court and the temple.
Moreover, if she were to say, “I want to find my place,” the Elsword nobles might split into factions—one backing King Yorgos and the other supporting the rightful bloodline.
Everyone knew this except Hestia herself, which made it seem to Aslan that adults deliberately excluded her from important matters.
Aslan was angry about this, yet simultaneously sank into self-loathing.
He’d fallen into thinking he was no different from those elders in the banquet hall.
If only he could properly show Hestia her true influence and value…
‘What if she stops coming to see me?’
He knew it made no sense, yet that anxiety crept in anyway.
That was why. Because he wanted Hestia to keep seeking him out.
Because of that petty desire—that she, like him, would continue relying solely on him.
Afraid she might be disappointed if she ever discovered his scheming thoughts,
he kept his mouth shut and held his words back.
.
.
.
Life in the capital was terribly dull, so Aslan’s days were extremely simple and repetitive.
He woke, ate, trained, and then read books.
Recently, however, one new habit had been added.
Namely, strolling through the garden.
More precisely, it was a habit formed after meeting Hestia.
‘Why do you keep staring like that?’
At first, it was curiosity about Hestia.
But once it became routine, he found himself captivated by the scenery of seasons other than winter.
Only a few months after moving into the palace, Aslan realized that various flowers bloomed here.
Apparently, the gardeners had tended the plants meticulously before Hestia left the palace, so even now, without anyone caring for them, different flowers bloomed and withered with each season, never growing tiresome.
“So this is what flowers are like.”
Aslan quietly observed the blossoms every day.
‘Is there no way to share this?’
He wanted to show his father and his close friends everything he saw with his own eyes.
But it was just a wishful thought.
Aslan well knew it was impossible unless they could drive winter from Kalati.
Yet unlike his reason, his restless heart refused to settle.
He wanted to convey to them the hope he’d found here.
‘Should I send a letter?’
If he carefully pressed some flowers and enclosed them…
Would they feel the same comfort, hope, and resolve these blossoms gave him?
They must be exhausted, but spring would surely come someday.
Or, if not, he’d come to them—so please, just hold on a little longer.
But as if betraying his resolve, the strength suddenly drained from Aslan’s hand, which had gripped the flower stalk so firmly it seemed ready to snap.
“What meaning would it have, even if I sent them?”
Flowers, spring… they weren’t things one could simply obtain like that.
Besides, though they grew everywhere here, nothing was as precious as flowers in Duke Kalati’s domain.
Thus, he hesitated to pluck them.
The more beautiful and rare something was, the more carefully it deserved to be treated.
Aslan clenched his fist tightly, as if to suppress the greed welling up inside, and breathed heavily.
Yet, for some reason,
though he knew it was utterly random, Hestia’s face suddenly flashed through his mind.
His clenched fist tightened even more.
.
.
.
Their relationship progressed during winter.
People had been coming and going from the palace since morning.
But unlike other days, the atmosphere was solemn.
Even Aslan, who didn’t directly attend the event, could sense it.
“Time really flies. It’s already been two years.”
“Indeed. Who could have known they’d pass so suddenly?”
“Only Princess Saintess Hestia is truly pitiful.”
“Don’t say that. Do you think they’d have left their young princess alone in this world?”
Aslan belatedly realized it was the memorial service for Hestia’s parents, the late king and queen.
Now that he knew, he briefly wondered if he should attend as well.
But after much deliberation, he decided against it.
“It might bring harm to Kalati.”
He clenched his fist.
Though he was technically a hostage in the royal palace, in another sense, he also represented Kalati’s public face.
Every action of his reflected on Kalati’s reputation, so he couldn’t afford to act recklessly.
In any case, he was still inexperienced, and Aslan humbly acknowledged that.
If he let his emotions get the better of him and made a mistake, Kalati’s treatment would only worsen further.
Winter’s grip grew stronger by the day, and the capital’s people grew increasingly hostile.
Certainly, some nobles at the memorial would recognize him.
‘What if someone provokes me…?’
He could endure insults directed at himself.
But if anyone dared speak ill of his family, his friends, or Kalati, he wasn’t sure he could hold back.
Aslan swallowed a sigh and silently offered a brief, private elegy to the late royal couple.
He knew well that Hestia’s parents had perished while traveling to the north to offer aid.
‘They were good people.’
Before being dragged to the capital by Yorgos, Aslan—as heir to the dukedom—had met the late king and queen when they visited Kalati.
They’d promised wholeheartedly to support the north and help rebuild it.
‘They were like the princess.’
Then again, parent and child were bound to resemble each other, weren’t they?
Regardless,
they were the kind of people who inspired trust, and Aslan had genuinely felt their sincerity.
Thus, when news of their deaths arrived, both Aslan and his father, Wayne Kalati, mourned them deeply.
‘It’s not where you mourn that matters. Better to avoid unnecessary trouble.’
Aslan didn’t want to unsettle Hestia’s heart.
Especially not today.
“Haa…”
Aslan let out a deep sigh to ease the tightness in his chest.
The sky, usually so clear, felt unusually overcast—as if mirroring someone’s heavy heart.
‘She probably won’t come today.’
She must be overwhelmed.
Aslan swallowed hard, as if trying to push down his bitterness, and lowered his gaze from the sky.
If he could wish for anything, it was simply that she wouldn’t grieve too deeply.
.
.
.
Though his reason insisted she wouldn’t come, his body still wandered to the garden at sunset as usual.
‘How stubborn of me.’
He cursed himself inwardly yet couldn’t bring himself to leave the garden.
Sitting on a bench with a clear view of the entrance, he kept glancing toward the garden gate every few minutes.
He tried focusing on the book in his hands, but it was no use.
The book was merely an excuse; not a single page had turned.
Even when he forced himself to concentrate, he couldn’t recall where he’d left off, rereading the same paragraph repeatedly.
How long had he spent alone like this?
‘Maybe I should head in now.’
Just as he was about to give up and close the book,
he heard the voice he’d secretly been waiting for.
“Have you been well, my lord?”
Male lead is a Love-Obsessed Merman
When he discovers she has gone, he risks everything to pursue her on land, enduring agonizing pain to transform his tail into human legs…
One-line summary: Male lead chases female lead. The male lead’s love is a bit sick, an invincible love brain.
Synopsis
During a voyage at sea, Jiang Yang accidentally captures a merman.
Servant: I heard that mermen are fierce and brutal.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman obediently rubbing her palm like a puppy: “You call this fierce and brutal?”
Servant: I heard that mermen have no human nature.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman with wet puppy eyes, obsessively calling her ‘A Yang’ like a childish infant: “You call this having no human nature?”
With great difficulty, she releases the merman back into the sea and returns to shore.
Who would have thought that in less than half a month, the merman, who should have been freely wandering in the South China Sea, would shed his scales, endure the pain of losing his tail, transform into human legs, and come ashore to find her?
He kneels at her feet, rubbing her palm, with merman tears rolling down: “A Yang, don’t abandon me.”
_____
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