Trampled and Broken (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 21
Aslan tried to ignore her and pass by.
“I-I waited for you!”
Yet at those words, he ultimately had no choice but to rein in his horse.
In truth, proper etiquette demanded that he dismount and greet her.
But Aslan did not do so.
Instead, from atop his steed, he fixed Hestia with a sharp gaze and asked,
“Why did you come? To mock me?”
He let out a savage, mocking laugh.
“You must have had quite the fun all this time.”
“What do you… mean by that?”
“Playing with me. Otherwise…”
He trailed off.
The atmosphere around Aslan instantly turned razor-sharp, and with sheer presence alone, he pinned Hestia down.
“I wondered how you dared come looking for me.”
Hestia flinched.
Her violet eyes, gazing up at him, quickly grew moist with tears.
“Aslan…”
“Did you come just to receive a final farewell? Then I’ll gladly give it. What would you like to hear? ‘Thank you for letting me live in delusion all this while’? Something like that?”
His sarcasm cut deeply into Hestia.
With tears about to spill over, she barely managed to part her trembling lips.
“Aslan, please—just listen to me for a moment.”
But Aslan had no intention of listening.
Without pause, he unleashed his anger upon her.
“Did you still see me as nothing but a dog wagging its tail at the sight of a princess?”
It was less an accusation aimed at Hestia and more a bitter self-reproach.
Aslan clenched his teeth.
Though he saw plainly with his own eyes that his words wounded her, he couldn’t stop himself.
He exhaled slowly to steady his emotions and gathered his resolve.
Finally given a moment to breathe, Hestia opened her quivering lips.
“I… I didn’t come here to fight with you. First, I wish to pray for the late Duke Kalati’s soul. And about the oracle…”
But Aslan cut her off again mid-sentence.
“Hey, Your Highness.”
Hestia’s violet eyes, fixed on him, trembled even more violently.
Gazing at her pitiful expression, Aslan spoke coldly.
“What more is there to say between us now? You made your choice, and I accepted it. So there’s only one thing I have left to say to you.”
He twisted his lips further, locking eyes with Hestia, who looked at him as if asking what it could be, his gaze icy.
“May you live your entire life in misery—only as much despair as you’ve given me.”
With a face grown cold, he gripped the reins even tighter.
“Hyah!”
Kicking his stirrups, his horse shot past Hestia like an arrow.
Thus, after three years as a hostage, Aslan returned to Kalati.
Clutching nothing but seething fury.
[This is the timeline separator]Back to the present.
The night of the royal banquet hosted by the king.
Hestia had shed her usual priestly robes and donned a dress.
With time too short to commission a new gown, she wore an old one she already owned and applied only the simplest of makeup.
Though nominally the kingdom’s princess and saintess, Hestia appeared strikingly plain compared to the other southern nobles.
Yet even so, she drew everyone’s attention.
The nobles, fully aware it was impolite, kept stealing glances at her face.
A few bold souls approached Hestia to offer greetings and desperately tried to strike up conversation, but it never flowed as easily as they’d hoped.
Hestia’s mind was entirely elsewhere.
“Your Holiness…”
“You seem even more…”
She gave perfunctory replies to the murmurs drifting near her ears, her eyes ceaselessly scanning the room.
Despite the rushed preparations, the banquet was splendid.
Golden draperies rippled from the ceiling, and expensive champagne cascaded like a waterfall from towering stacks of glasses, poured without a care for its cost.
To an outsider, it would be hard to believe the North and South belonged to the same nation.
‘Did he come? If so, where is he?’
But the Aslan she sought was nowhere to be seen.
He was the sort of man whose presence stood out even in far larger crowds. If she couldn’t find him, it meant he hadn’t come at all.
‘As expected… he didn’t come.’
Hestia swallowed a sigh.
Just then, Yorgos and the Crown Prince entered the hall and began looking around.
Not finding Aslan either, Yorgos frowned slightly and clicked his tongue—a gesture that caught Hestia’s eye.
Since this wasn’t the first time, Yorgos quickly gave up searching for Aslan and immediately raised his glass to begin his toast.
“I’m deeply grateful to you all for attending tonight.”
Feigning a dignified tone, Yorgos continued.
“We safely weathered another winter last year. A victory for us all!”
Emphasizing the word “victory” as if it were his own achievement, he lifted his wine glass even higher.
“For Kalati!”
Regardless of Aslan’s attendance, this banquet was ostensibly held to honor Kalati’s efforts, so he had to be lauded.
Following the king’s lead, the southern nobles filling the hall immediately echoed in unison.
“For Elsword!”
At that cue, lively dance music soon began.
Couples stepped into the center of the hall and started dancing.
Those standing beside Hestia grew somewhat restless.
“Your Holiness, if it’s not too forward…”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well and was just about to leave.”
Her gentle yet firm refusal flushed the face of the man who’d asked her to dance.
“Oh! I see… I should’ve noticed.”
“Not at all. I appreciate the invitation.”
Hestia offered a carefully crafted smile to spare him embarrassment, then bowed slightly in apology before walking away.
‘I’ve shown my face at the banquet long enough.’
Soon after, Archdeacon Boswa would escort Saint Anetsa into the hall.
Whenever a banquet was held at the palace, an invitation always went to the temple—but in Hestia’s memory, they had never once arrived early.
It was customary for them to appear later than the king, to subtly demonstrate that the temple’s influence rivaled the royal court’s.
Caught between both sides, Hestia found the resulting awkwardness utterly unbearable.
‘Anyway, I don’t want to run into Anetsa.’
So it was best to slip away before then.
‘Better hurry.’
Quietly returning to her room, Hestia immediately asked her waiting maid, Angela,
“Angela, what I asked for?”
“It’s all prepared without issue, Your Highness.”
Angela held a dark-colored robe in her hands but clutched it tightly, reluctant to hand it over.
“Do you really have to go?”
At Angela’s worried question, Hestia lowered her eyebrows.
Knowing Angela was the only one who truly cared for her, she felt deeply guilty for involving her in this.
“Yes. It’s important.”
“Then… at least take a royal guard with you?”
Hestia shook her head.
“I don’t want anyone to know.”
In her past life, Hestia’s health had begun deteriorating sharply around this very time.
Though she felt fine now, symptoms could appear at any moment—and she didn’t want unnecessary rumors sparked by prying eyes.
Taking a deep breath to calm her restless heart, she forced a smile.
“I’ll be back before sunrise. If things go well, I might return even sooner.”
“Why not just summon him?”
“Because he’s someone I’d never meet again if I did.”
With a bitter smile, Hestia took the robe and slipped it on herself, adding,
“If anyone comes looking for me, just say I’m unwell.”
Angela nodded solemnly, her expression grave.
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Good. I trust you.”
After carefully fastening her robe, Hestia quietly left the room with Angela.
“This way, Your Highness. I’ll guide you.”
“Okay.”
The two headed toward the palace’s back entrance.
As if forewarned, the guards bowed their heads upon seeing Hestia wrapped in her robe.
“Are you certain you’ll be alright without an escort?”
“I don’t want to trouble anyone by dragging a whole retinue along. I’ll slip out quietly so as not to burden you.”
Swallowing hard, she added with a hint of anxiety,
“I know and trust your loyalty—but I’d prefer no rumors start spreading.”
“…Yes, Your Highness. Of course. Please don’t worry about that.”
Though the guards still looked uneasy, they couldn’t disobey Hestia, whose status far outranked theirs.
‘No… it’s more accurate to say they didn’t seem eager to stop me.’
Hestia silently swallowed a bitter smile.
‘My position at the temple isn’t secure, but here in the palace, I’m even more insignificant.’
That was precisely why she hadn’t planned to stay at the temple to meet Aslan.
Too many eyes watched her there, making movement difficult.
But in the palace, surveillance was comparatively lighter—and she had at least one reliable ally in Angela.
“Step in carefully.”
Holding Angela’s hand, Hestia climbed into the carriage.
Before closing the door, she smiled reassuringly at Angela, who watched her with worried eyes.
“Then I’ll be off, Angela.”
There was no more time to waste.
She shut the carriage door firmly, and soon the vehicle carrying her vanished into the darkness, leaving the palace behind.
My Step-brother Is Obsessed With Me (Female-dominant)
A gentle female protagonist vs pitiful in the early stage, and a sick male protagonist in the later stage
Cheng Songer transmigrated into the body of a vicious cannon fodder female supporting character with the same name as her in a female-dominant novel.
In the original story, the cannon fodder female supporting character was inhumane, committing domestic violence, gambling excessively, being lustful, and even wanting to sell her stepbrother to a brothel for money.
As luck would have it, she just happened to transmigrate at this time.
Seeing Cheng Qingzhi biting his lip, enduring the tears in his eyes, looking pitiful, her heart softened.
She stuffed the money back into the Madam’s hand and reached out to him.
“Brother, come home with me.”
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