Trampled and Broken (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 16
Hestia’s heart had been floating aimlessly all day.
It was always like this around this time of year.
‘Here it comes again….’
She wished she could just fall asleep the night before and not wake up until the next day.
At only thirteen years old, her parents’ death was something she simply couldn’t accept.
Besides, she hadn’t been given enough time to properly grieve.
The funeral had passed in a blur, she’d tiptoed around her uncle’s moods, awakened as a saintess, and moved into the temple.
〈You must behave maturely, Hestia.〉
Yes, Uncle.
〈Your Holiness, your expression seems troubled. Might we have neglected you in some way, causing you distress?〉
No, I’m quite comfortable. Thank you for your concern.
A smile was the only expression permitted to her.
No matter how exalted her status might be, it offered her no real comfort.
Hestia was just a thirteen-year-old child with no adult left to protect her.
She bore more responsibilities than privileges.
Every single day weighed heavily upon her.
Though she clung on desperately, afraid of being abandoned, on days like today—the anniversary of her parents’ passing—her emotions sank beyond her control.
‘I just want to cry today.’
But she couldn’t.
A slightly clouded expression was the absolute limit allowed to her.
Crying children were a nuisance.
So instead of comforting or consoling them, people turned away.
Because it was easier that way.
Hestia swallowed her tears over and over again.
She felt utterly uncomfortable here.
Even though it was the second anniversary, barely anyone genuinely mourned her parents; most guests had formed their own factions and were socializing among themselves.
While greeting visitors, Hestia clenched her hands so tightly they turned pale white.
She wanted to run away from this world of pretense.
‘But… where to?’
At the end of that resigned question, the face of a blunt boy suddenly flashed through her mind.
Hestia took a trembling breath.
‘I miss the young master.’
He wouldn’t say a word to her.
He might not even share her sorrow.
‘…Still.’
Still, he’d be better than this place, better than these people.
The moment she realized where her true refuge lay, she caught her breath.
If it were up to her heart alone, she’d dash out right now and run straight to his palace.
.
.
.
After barely finishing the memorial prayers, she excused herself by saying she wanted to take a walk alone.
Her feet naturally carried her toward the palace she’d once used—the one where Aslan now stayed.
She offered Aslan a brief greeting, but received no reply.
Yet she clearly saw concern in his watchful gaze, so she didn’t feel hurt.
Just…
She was in trouble—the tears she’d held back all this time threatened to burst forth.
‘If I cry here, the young master will be troubled.’
Hestia swallowed hard several times, forcing her emotions down.
“I’ll… just go for a short walk.”
She quickly turned away and, as always, headed for the bridge in the middle of the garden pond.
Convinced no one was watching her anymore, her tears broke free like a dam collapsing, streaming down her cheeks.
To stifle her sobs, she gripped the railing and lowered her head.
Then, through her blurred vision, a familiar face shimmered on the water’s surface.
“Father… Mother…”
Her voice was clearly damp with tears, yet somehow her heart felt parched.
Hestia kept staring at the water’s surface, struggling to suppress the surging emotions.
Her late parents’ faces seemed to overlay her own reflection.
It was possible because she resembled each of them equally.
Her hair color came from her mother; her eye color from her father.
Her high nose bridge was her father’s; her neat eyebrows, her mother’s.
But though she could glimpse their features in her own face, she knew she’d never truly see them again.
Today, missing them more than ever, Hestia couldn’t compose herself.
An unguarded whimper escaped helplessly through her tightly pressed lips.
“Why… did you leave only me behind?”
Overwhelmed by longing, Hestia impulsively reached out—and instantly lost her balance, plunging into the water.
Splash!
The faint drowsiness she’d felt, as if under some spell, vanished immediately as icy cold enveloped her entire body.
‘How foolish.’
Regaining her senses, Hestia flailed and stretched out both arms.
But the long ceremonial robes she wore tangled awkwardly around her.
Strangely fast, a thought of surrender seeped into her mind.
‘I can’t even swim anyway.’
Foolishly, that’s what she believed.
Soon, strength drained from her arms.
Unlike the noisy world above, here underwater there was utter silence—and soon her body and mind grew calm.
The water, though slightly cold, wrapped around her with gentle pressure.
It almost felt as if someone were holding her.
‘It’s like being wrapped in a womb.’
Peaceful. Safe.
Her violet eyes slowly closed beneath her eyelids.
‘Anyway… I have no reason left to live.’
With her parents gone, the one perfect, unwavering ally she’d had in this world disappeared.
There was no one left to anchor her to this earth.
As resignation consumed her heart, all her senses dulled rapidly.
Just as she tried to shut herself off from the world—
Splash.
A powerful impact rippled through the water, stirring the current slightly.
‘What… is happening?’
Her thoughts slowed along with her breathing.
Unable to focus properly, she struggled to make out objects in the dark water.
Or perhaps, honestly, she just didn’t care enough to try.
When she failed to immediately investigate the disturbance, Hestia nearly closed her eyes again.
Her limp body began sinking slowly toward the pond’s bottom.
‘Princess!’
At the sound, she froze.
The darkness around her gradually brightened.
‘What is this?’
Brilliant light poured down from above the surface.
Finally able to see clearly, she recognized who had caused the commotion.
Aslan—someone who shouldn’t be here—came into view.
‘How did the young master get here…?’
Her drooping eyelids lifted again.
And then, Hestia realized their eyes had met.
He stood motionless underwater, just like her.
Neither approaching nor retreating.
Simply watching her quietly, as she was.
Without thinking, Hestia raised one arm toward him.
It was an action born of slight dizziness from lack of air.
Interpreting her gesture somehow, Aslan scowled deeply and opened his mouth.
‘Princess!’
His voice dissolved into muffled ripples in the water.
Hestia, regaining a sliver of clarity, realized Aslan had jumped into the water to find her.
‘To… save me?’
Unbelievably, warmth flooded her heart.
Instinctively, Hestia reached out toward the boy.
As if he’d been waiting, Aslan cut through the water and swam straight to her.
His lips parted, releasing a stream of bubbles.
With desperate urgency, Aslan shouted something at her.
‘Grab on!’
It seemed as though that’s exactly what he was saying.
In that instant, Hestia hesitated.
Gradually, focus returned to her previously vacant eyes.
For the first time since her parents’ senseless death,
someone was purely, sincerely reaching out just for her.
Instantly, her eyes burned hot.
Though underwater, tears surged forth, warming her chilled skin.
When Hestia opened her lips, her breath escaped in a flurry of bubbles.
‘I want to live.’
In a single moment, her wish to die reversed completely.
‘If anyone would just hold onto me—if they’d do that for me.’
She shifted her hand toward Aslan.
Her movements now carried a desperation utterly unlike her earlier sluggishness.
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want to live.
She thrashed.
Aslan swiftly cut through the water, closing the distance between them.
‘Ugh… ngh…’
She couldn’t breathe.
Just as pain twisted Hestia’s face, Aslan firmly seized her hand.
‘Come here.’
His golden eyes, fixed solely on her, seemed to say exactly that.
Gripping her hand even tighter—as if refusing to ever let go—he pulled her toward himself.
Drifting gently like a feather, Hestia sank into Aslan’s embrace and closed her eyes.
His firm, warm hold brought calm to her anxious, turbulent heart.
Unconsciously, the corners of Hestia’s lips curved into a soft smile.
.
.
.
After carrying her into his private chamber, Aslan didn’t even pause to dry himself before immediately bringing Hestia a dry towel and sheets.
“Dry yourself.”
“…Thank you.”
Hestia, having finally stopped coughing, weakly accepted what he offered.
As she squeezed water from her hair with the towel, she bit her trembling lip.
Seeing her shivering, frail body filled Aslan with pity, and he dropped heavily onto his haunches right before her.
“Now talk. Why on earth did you do something so reckless?”
“…”
“Were you planning to die?”
Hestia swallowed hard.
She hoped Aslan would let the earlier question pass, buying herself time.
But this time, his determined stance—refusing to move until he got an answer—pressed heavily on her.
Finally, Hestia let out a deep sigh and lowered her head limply.
“Maybe.”
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
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