Trampled and Broken (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 2
The sole duke of the empire and master of the North, who held half the lands of the Elsword Kingdom.
Yet despite his noble station, Aslan was more often derisively called a “barbarian” behind his back.
It was certainly not because there was anything wrong with his birth or lineage.
If one had to pinpoint a reason, it was because he lived “outside”—beyond the norms of Elsword society—and stood against the winter by slaughtering demons on behalf of the Southerners.
Of course, no one ever expressed gratitude for his sacrifices—at least, not as far as Hestia knew.
‘Why on earth did he come?’
〈May you be unhappy for the rest of your life—only as much as the despair you gave me.〉
His last sharp words to her during their final proper conversation still echoed vividly in her mind.
‘Didn’t you hate me?’
That was precisely why she hadn’t even sent him an invitation.
‘And judging by your expression, you certainly didn’t come here to congratulate me.’
Hestia simply couldn’t fathom Aslan Kalati’s reason for attending her wedding.
Hestia swallowed a sigh and forced her gaze away from him. Her focus now should be on another man—not him.
Stephan Chereto, her soon-to-be husband, who had yet to arrive at the ceremony.
‘When will Sir Stephan arrive?’
She didn’t even dare hope he’d come quickly.
After all, this marriage was entirely one-sided—a union where Hestia could only cling helplessly to Stephan’s sacrifice.
Thus, people loudly praised Stephan for the courage he showed on Hestia’s behalf.
Even as these thoughts swirled in her mind, Aslan continued to stare fixedly at her.
Feeling her cheeks grow hot under his gaze, she let out a faint sigh—prompting Angela to glance subtly toward Aslan and whisper,
“Your Highness, shall I have the guards escort him out?”
Hestia shook her head.
“No. There’s no need for that. He must be busy, yet he came all this way just to offer his congratulations.”
Angela muttered back in a sulky tone,
“You only say that because your veil is blinding you right now. Ask any passerby, and every single one would say that’s not the face of someone here to congratulate you!”
“You really exaggerate.”
Hestia gave a light chuckle, brushing off the remark, then glanced sideways.
Her eyes fell upon the hourglass resting on a nearby table. The sand within was violet—just like her eyes.
‘Not much time left.’
The amount of sand remaining in the upper chamber was about the size of a neatly trimmed pinky fingernail.
It looked so perilously close to running out that Hestia felt her heart tighten as she watched it.
‘At most, there’s only twenty or thirty minutes left.’
Stephan had to arrive and complete the ceremony within that time—or she would die.
Given how tight the schedule was, they might have to skip most of the formal rites and proceed straight to the vows.
Perhaps it was nerves, but Hestia felt her stomach churn and a deep heat rise within her.
‘What if he never comes…?’
Just imagining it made her mouth go dry.
Since Stephan kept failing to appear, the guests began sensing something was amiss and soon started whispering among themselves.
“A wedding where the bride arrives first and waits? I’ve never heard nor seen such a thing.”
“Well, what can you do? Clearly, it’s the princess who’s in a hurry.”
“Shh! Lower your voice—they’ll hear you.”
But their caution lasted only a moment; they never truly stopped gossiping.
“But why is Sir Stephan taking so long? Could the ceremony be postponed?”
“Postponed? Impossible. If he doesn’t come, it’s over—just over.”
“Surely… that can’t be real?”
“Then do you think the oracle was fake?”
A year ago, the gods delivered an oracle through Anetsa: Hestia, the “wrongly rooted being,” would have her life taken.
Yet through Anetsa’s fervent prayers, a way for Hestia to survive was revealed.
She had to take a spouse and align her life with his dawn.
That meant if her spouse died, she would perish as well.
‘Is it really alright to live like this? Won’t my life feel like a parasite clinging to Sir Stephan?’
She briefly held her breath, trying to suppress the bitterness.
And just then—
Boom! The chapel doors burst open.
The sound was so loud that, naturally, everyone’s eyes turned toward the entrance.
But the figure who appeared from outside wasn’t the awaited Stephan Chereto—it was a messenger.
Breathless and trembling from having run, the messenger panted heavily.
Yorgos, Hestia’s uncle and King of Elsword, leapt to his feet.
Speaking on behalf of his niece, he thundered in a commanding voice,
“What is this commotion on such an auspicious day!”
“My apologies, Your Majesty, but I have urgent news that cannot wait.”
“Speak.”
“Lord Chereto has…”
Just hearing that much made the rest painfully easy to imagine.
Hestia squeezed her eyes shut.
Though she’d already sensed it, she still hoped—prayed desperately—that it was merely an accident.
Please. Please. Please.
But as always, the gods ignored Hestia’s earnest plea.
“Lord Chereto has declared the engagement broken!”
“Gasp!”
Everyone, without exception, gasped in shock.
Their gazes, as if by silent agreement, shot toward Hestia like arrows.
Though she should have been the most shocked, Hestia herself remained calm.
Instead, it was Yorgos who roared in fury.
“What in blazes do you mean!”
The messenger, unable to raise his head, bowed low and stammered out the explanation.
“Lord Chereto had been deeply conflicted—wondering what path truly served the will of the gods.”
“But then!”
“As Lord Chereto walked toward the ceremony, he happened to see Saint Anetsa leaving the temple—and in that moment, he finally realized his true calling.”
Hestia let out an involuntary, hollow laugh.
Given how many times this had happened over the past year, she could guess the rest without hearing it.
“Lord Chereto immediately followed after the saint, knelt before her, and swore to become her faithful servant.”
A deep sigh escaped the lips of everyone present upon hearing the messenger’s words.
King Yorgos, eyes snapping open after tightly shutting them, demanded furiously,
“Are you saying Saint Anetsa didn’t stop him? She just stood by and let it happen?”
“The saint had no chance to intervene in time.”
“Hah…! What utter nonsense!”
Yorgos, face flushed crimson, clicked his tongue before issuing a new command.
“His name hasn’t yet been inscribed in the registry—so it’s invalid! Captain of the Royal Guard, take your men and bring him here at once!”
At Yorgos’s order, the guards sprang into action.
“Oh dear, how pitiful.”
The murmurs among the crowd grew louder.
Yet Hestia remained perfectly still, sitting quietly and offering only a hollow smile.
‘Of course… You were never on my side.’
With resigned eyes, Hestia gazed toward one wall of the chapel.
It felt as though the colossal statue of El Rapa loomed over her, pressing down with unbearable weight.
‘Is Anetsa alone your faithful servant? Was my past—my very existence—truly meaningless to you?’
She knew full well that asking would bring no answer.
Lowering her gaze, she quietly rose to her feet.
‘I should leave.’
She didn’t want to face her end in front of so many people.
Just as she took a step toward the inner chamber—
Gurk. Before she could react, dark crimson blood burst from her lips.
“Heavens! Your Highness!”
Angela, standing nearby, cried out.
“I’m fine… Gurk.”
But Hestia couldn’t finish her sentence. Another wave of nausea surged, and a mouthful of blood poured out.
Her pristine white wedding dress was instantly stained red. The pillar holding her upright collapsed.
Her body crumpled.
At the edge of her fading vision, she saw the last violet grain of sand drop—plink—into the lower chamber, and she understood.
‘This is it.’
Thud!
Her body hit the cold stone floor of the chapel.
“Kyaaaah! Princess!”
“Hestia! Hestia, wake up!”
“Saint!”
Even after collapsing, the hemoptysis wouldn’t stop.
She curled into herself, coughing up blood continuously.
‘So dizzy…’
Lack of breath made her vision spin. Everything grew dimmer.
People had already gathered close, forming a circle around her.
“Saint! Can you hear me?”
The archdeacon beside her channeled holy power, but her body refused to accept it.
Hestia knew better than anyone that it was futile—but she no longer had the strength to tell him to stop.
As foretold by Anetsa’s oracle, Hestia’s allotted time in this world was finally running out.
With no more blood left to expel, the coughing gradually subsided—and her breathing grew fainter in kind.
“Make way.”
At that moment, parting the crowd, that man—Aslan Kalati—approached her side.
Without hesitation, he knelt on the blood-soaked floor and lifted Hestia into his arms.
“Princess. Open your eyes—now.”
Aslan’s voice was fiercely harsh.
‘But how strange.’
It didn’t feel harsh all the way through.
Somewhere beneath it, it sounded like the wounded cry of a beast.
Summoning her last strength, Hestia lifted her eyelids—and thought, perhaps madness had taken her on the brink of death.
‘Why do you wear that expression?’
His frown looked both furious and as if he were holding back tears.
‘You… always wanted me dead, didn’t you?’
Male lead is reincarnated to save his wife
I’ve also read this one twice already. The female lead is kinda soft and gets embarrassed easily—not really my type, but the plot is definitely worth reading. Hurry up and read it, y’all!
Intro
When Shen Yuan encountered Su Jin again in his previous life, she had already become the Prime Minister of the current dynasty. As for him, the former top young master of the capital, he had long since fallen into the abyss, becoming a singer on a pleasure boat.
After a song ended, he was redeemed and sent to the Su Residence.
Su Jin respected and cherished him, gave him a roof over his head, and bestowed him with warmth. Shen Yuan fell deeper and deeper, but before he could express his feelings, Su Jin passed away.
Shen Yuan died to follow her in death, but instead, he returned to when he was fifteen years old.
At that time, he was not yet engaged, and Su Jin was just a poor scholar.
Shen Yuan gritted his teeth, casting aside all his pride, and thought of ways to coax and entice her every day.
The colder and more indifferent Su Jin was towards him, the more proactive Shen Yuan became.
He was not afraid of being mocked by the world, only wanting to marry his Wife-master early, to hold her hand and never let go for a lifetime.
[Note: This story will not specifically point out the male lead’s reincarnation time point; it’s all in the details. Whenever you feel that the male lead is acting strangely, he has most likely been reincarnated.]
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
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