Trampled and Broken (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 36
Hestia clutched her chest tightly, as if wanting to tear out her heart, and her frail body trembled.
Amidst her increasingly tangled breaths, she could still hear the many worried voices directed toward her.
The circle of people surrounding Hestia kept growing, yet not one of them offered a helping hand.
Seeing that she couldn’t even lift herself up or respond, the murmuring around her grew even more intense.
“Please call someone!”
“But who should we call? The royal palace? Or the temple?”
While they argued back and forth, Hestia continued lying face down, gasping for breath.
Anetsa swiftly closed the distance and reached Hestia’s side in an instant.
“Everyone, please calm down. Our priority should be moving Saint Hestia somewhere else so she can rest.”
“Lady Anetsa is absolutely right.”
Relieved to have finally found someone capable of handling the situation, the nobles nodded and listened attentively to Anetsa.
Anetsa glanced sideways and spoke softly.
“My lord… would you mind helping move her?”
“Of course.”
Someone responded to her request with a gentle, almost fluid voice tinged with amusement.
Though she had collapsed, Hestia hadn’t lost consciousness entirely, and upon hearing that voice, her heart sank.
It was a voice she knew all too well.
‘Stephan Chereto.’
It seemed he was approaching her—the sound of his shoes striking the floor grew steadily louder and closer.
Why did her hearing grow sharper when her body ached as if it were breaking apart?
Hestia overheard the nobles whispering about her.
“But isn’t this strange? Saint Hestia has always been somewhat frail, but still—she’s a saint! I’ve heard those blessed with divine power never fall ill…”
“Exactly! I’ve also heard they never get sick unless physically injured, since they carry the grace of the gods within them.”
“Then why is Saint Hestia…? Could that rumor actually be true?”
“I heard it too—that she’s getting married because her holy power has run dry…”
At that moment, Hestia’s hunched body twitched faintly.
A metallic taste began spreading in her mouth.
‘Blood.’
If she vomited it out now, the rumors would swell like bursting bubbles.
‘I mustn’t… give them any reason.’
Hestia painfully swallowed the blood-tinged bile with grim determination.
While she did so, Stephan Chereto had already quietly approached her side.
As he lowered himself, a sweet fragrance reached her.
Stephan addressed Hestia in an exceedingly polite and gentle tone.
“Saint Hestia, please excuse my intrusion for a moment.”
The moment she saw his refined hand reaching toward her, Hestia instinctively shrank further into herself.
“Please don’t refuse me. I only wish to help. Grant me the supreme honor of serving you.”
She wanted to say she was fine, that he shouldn’t touch her—but she lacked even the strength to move a finger.
‘I suppose there’s no choice.’
Just as Hestia resigned herself to letting Stephan touch her—
“Move aside.”
A low voice cut sharply through the crowd.
Though quiet, it carried undeniable authority, instantly overwhelming everyone present.
Stephan Chereto was among them.
His fingers, about to grasp Hestia’s shoulder, froze midair.
A cold voice followed, piercing through the air.
“Don’t lay a hand on her carelessly.”
The savage growl belonged to none other than Aslan.
At the sound of his voice, the crowd parted like the sea, clearing a path for Aslan to reach Hestia.
It felt almost absurdly easy for them to meet like this.
Thud. Thud.
Aslan walked forward quietly, yet each step was so heavy that all onlookers swallowed hard.
Still, no one dared stop him as he drew closer to Hestia.
Stephan Chereto visibly gulped and pulled back from Hestia.
Though his pride stung, Aslan’s command carried an irresistible force that made his body obey before his mind could protest.
“Watching you all chatter on and on about a collapsed person—now that’s truly a sight to behold.”
Even with Aslan’s sarcasm, no one dared retort.
A few who had enjoyed gossiping behind her back now turned away, coughing awkwardly or fanning themselves to hide their flushed faces.
Stopping before Hestia, Aslan looked down at her with inscrutable eyes.
She already looked small, but curled up as she was, she seemed even tinier.
“If what you say is true…”
The knee of Aslan—who seemed as if nothing could ever make him bow—bent.
With a completely calm expression, he knelt on one knee and reached toward Hestia.
His fingertips met a fragility so delicate it felt as if she might crumble at any moment.
Aslan clenched his teeth.
“I suppose if the gods have abandoned her, I might as well take her.”
His voice was low and quiet—only Hestia could hear it.
Aslan lifted her up with effortless ease.
On Hestia’s usually expressionless, doll-like face, clear astonishment appeared.
In that instant, Aslan felt a faint trace of satisfaction seep into his otherwise uncomfortable mood.
He turned to leave the banquet hall—but hadn’t even taken a full step before halting in place.
Anetsa had blocked his way.
“My lord, just who do you think you are to dare lay hands on the saint?”
Aslan gave a derisive snort. His smile held no warmth whatsoever, causing Anetsa’s expression to harden further.
“Put down Saint Hestia. Sir Stephan, whom I have permitted, will escort her to the resting room.”
But Aslan didn’t budge an inch.
Instead, he tightened his hold on Hestia.
“And if I refuse?”
At those brief words, Anetsa’s brow furrowed.
“Do you even know who I am?”
Though her voice trembled slightly, Aslan’s response was utterly indifferent.
“Should I?”
“…Hah!”
Anetsa let out a small but unmistakably offended breath.
Her followers grew restless, but Aslan merely gave another dismissive snort.
He spoke again, his voice icy cold.
“I know you’re Saint Anetsa. But saints aren’t exactly welcome among northerners, so I’m not sure what treatment you expect—but I certainly can’t give it to you.”
“Duke Kalati! You’re being outrageously rude!”
Anetsa’s followers bravely raised their voices on her behalf—but the moment they met Aslan’s frigid gaze, they quickly cowered.
Aslan turned his eyes back to Anetsa.
“Frankly, I’d feel far less secure leaving the princess in your care. How ironic.”
Even in her dazed state, Hestia couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.
‘At least in front of others, he properly uses my title.’
That was something.
She smiled inwardly, relieved she wouldn’t have to excuse his rudeness later.
Yet despite hearing those words from Aslan, Anetsa still stood firmly in his path, refusing to step aside.
As the standoff dragged on, Aslan’s patience wore thin, and he clicked his tongue irritably before speaking coldly.
“Must we really stand here bickering endlessly?”
He glanced down at Hestia, then lifted his gaze to Anetsa with detached calm.
“If you truly don’t wish her harm, you’d best let me go now.”
That made sense.
Prolonging this would benefit neither Anetsa nor herself.
But since things weren’t unfolding as she’d planned, a stubborn defiance took hold of her.
Anetsa twisted her lips and spoke again.
“If you claim I lack the right, then do you possess it yourself? Without a reasonable justification that satisfies everyone, I cannot possibly step aside.”
She feigned composure, but her voice faltered—overwhelmed by Aslan’s presence.
Refusing to show it, she forced her chin higher.
Aslan, meanwhile, grew increasingly irritated by Anetsa’s persistent attempts to trap him with her words.
He made no effort to hide his annoyance, letting it show plainly on his face as he snapped back.
“Does it truly matter what our relationship is? If you’re satisfied with my reason, you’ll let me pass—yes?”
“Of course.”
At Anetsa’s reply, the corners of Aslan’s mouth twisted dangerously upward.
“Then I’ll tell you.”
He clicked his tongue briefly before beginning.
Glancing around, he noticed everyone straining to hear what he’d say next.
He surveyed the nobles encircling them like exotic animals on display.
Finally, his golden eyes settled on Hestia’s face.
She looked even paler than before, weakly clutching his collar as if it were a lifeline—and strangely, he found himself clenching his teeth again.
All he wanted now was to leave this place immediately.
He turned to Anetsa and opened his mouth.
His tone was uncharacteristically crisp and clear.
“We’re to be married.”
Male lead first thought she played hard to get, only to realize she
really disliked him
Short intro:
What she can’t stand the most is the streets full of effeminate men, especially that so-called top beauty whom she avoids at all costs.
Shen Yaoxing looks at Jiang Mingyue, who keeps approaching her with coy shyness.
Shen Yaoxing: Bro, don’t be like this, I’m really about to throw up!
She fears nothing in heaven or earth, except for him getting close to her.
*
At first he thought she was just using the trick of feigning indifference to attract his attention. Later, he learned that she truly despised him.
This dealt a heavy blow to Jiang Mingyue, and he vowed to make her, like everyone else, fall at his feet in worship!
***
Synopsis:
Before transmigrating, Shen Yaoxing only wanted to find a reliable man to spend her life with. Who knew that after transmigrating, she would become a reliable woman herself…
A forced misandrist, highly skilled, and reliable female lead
vs.
An initially aloof and arrogant, later morbid, obsessed male lead
_____
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