Trampled and Broken (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 9
She soon nodded and lifted the corners of her lips.
“Then let’s go see him right away.”
“Yes! I’ll accompany you!”
Hestia followed Angela and headed toward the king’s quarters.
“Your Majesty, Princess Hestia has arrived.”
“Let her in.”
Soon, permission came from inside.
The large double doors opened quietly, and Hestia entered the study, bowing respectfully to her uncle and sovereign of the Elsword Kingdom, King Yorgos.
“Your Majesty, it has been a while since I last paid my respects.”
“Welcome, Hestia. Have you been well all this time, with no discomfort?”
“How could I possibly be uncomfortable when you always care for me in your heart?”
Hestia answered calmly with a smile, but Yorgos frowned in displeasure.
“Do you think I don’t know you’re merely enduring everything because of your gentle nature? It’s ridiculous how the Temple people keep fawning over that new saint—Anetsa or whoever she is.”
Hestia gave a faint smile.
“Everyone treats me kindly.”
When she had announced her intention to stay in the palace for a while, the archdeacons had repeatedly urged her about one thing:
to keep quiet about her terminal diagnosis.
‘But it might be better to mention it beforehand.’
She had received the same request in her previous life.
Thus, she hadn’t said a word until the Temple officially announced her condition.
Later, when Yorgos finally learned the prophecy’s contents, he had furiously scolded her for not consulting him sooner.
‘Let’s wait a little longer. Today isn’t the right day.’
Hestia turned back to him, determined to address a more urgent matter.
“Your Majesty, I have something I’d like to ask.”
“What is it? Speak freely.”
“I was wondering… will Duke Kalati be coming from the north this year as well?”
“Ah, that outsider.”
Yorgos immediately scowled and roughly stroked his chin.
Just thinking of Aslan seemed to sour his mood.
‘Why does he call him an outsider?’
Hestia sensed a strong sense of unease from Yorgos’s attitude.
Though the north was undeniably part of the Elsword Kingdom, her uncle treated it as if it were a completely foreign land.
It felt almost cruel how firmly he had already drawn that line in his mind.
‘Perhaps I’ll soon be pushed beyond that line myself.’
Hestia held her breath, waiting for her uncle’s reply.
Yorgos soon nodded.
“As you said. Three days ago, we received word they passed through the city walls. They should arrive soon—perhaps as early as tonight, or by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
As if recalling Aslan again, Yorgos scowled and clicked his tongue.
“I wonder how miserable he’ll look this time.”
Having gotten the answer she wanted, Hestia concealed her impatience and spoke as casually as possible.
“Your Majesty, actually, I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
Yorgos’s face darkened once more.
Though the royal court and the Temple appeared harmonious on the surface, in truth, they were constantly scheming against each other.
Thus, they often exchanged sharp, cutting remarks behind closed doors.
Yorgos grimaced further and grumbled.
“Is the Temple using you again to squeeze something out of me?”
Hestia quickly shook her head.
“No, it’s a personal request of mine. You don’t need to give me anything in return.”
Surprised, Yorgos raised one eyebrow.
His niece, who had never once asked anyone for help in her life, had just uttered the word “favor”—it struck him as rather curious.
“A personal favor, you say…”
Yorgos soon showed interest.
Though uncle and niece by blood, they had spent far more time apart than together—Hestia had grown up mostly alone in the Temple—so their relationship remained distant.
To Yorgos, Hestia felt less like family and more like someone from the Temple.
Perhaps that’s why a sly smile deepened on his face, as if thinking it wouldn’t hurt to owe a favor to a saint.
“Go on, let’s hear it.”
[This is the timeline separator]Time seemed to drag yet flew by in an instant.
Upon hearing from Angela that Duke Kalati had entered the capital at dawn, Hestia immediately prepared herself.
She had no intention of dressing extravagantly. It wasn’t her style, nor did she even own particularly fine garments or jewelry.
Thanks to that, Hestia arrived at the audience chamber earlier than anyone else in the royal household.
‘I’m nervous.’
She had already secured permission from Yorgos long ago.
〈I wish to attend the audience where Duke Kalati pays his respects to Your Majesty—if you permit it, of course.〉
Yorgos had looked surprised.
Every year, he had urged her to attend precisely to assert his own authority, but she had always refused, uncomfortable with Aslan’s presence.
〈What made you change your mind?〉
〈Because I no longer wish to run from my fate.〉
Apparently interpreting “fate” as “duty,” Yorgos chuckled cheerfully.
〈Hestia, it seems you’ve finally grown up.〉
He didn’t press her for further details.
Thus, Hestia was spared the trouble of inventing clumsy excuses.
‘I’ll be twenty-four this year.’
Hestia steadied her breath and made one final mental review of everything she knew about Aslan, whom she would soon meet.
Unlike his noble peers, who had long since become engaged or married, he remained alone.
‘Until the very moment I died, Duke Aslan never married.’
Of course, that was likely because the situation in the north he guarded was so dire he could focus only on defense.
While lost in such thoughts, Yorgos arrived late.
“You’re early, Hestia.”
“Naturally, I must be here before Your Majesty.”
Though exaggerated, Yorgos didn’t seem to mind her humble deference; he gave a slight smirk, nodded, and took his seat on the throne.
Hestia exchanged a brief glance with the Crown Prince, who was also her cousin, as a simple greeting.
“He’ll be here soon.”
No sooner had those words left her lips than commotion erupted outside the audience chamber doors.
The chief steward entered and bowed deeply to Yorgos, the Crown Prince, and Hestia.
“Your Majesty, Duke Kalati of the North requests an audience.”
“Admit him.”
At the steward’s solemnly rehearsed voice, the great doors finally swung wide open.
Through them stepped Aslan.
He wore armor, not formal court attire.
A surcoat over a padded gambeson, gauntlets—though simplified, he was ready to march straight into battle if ordered.
From the throne behind, a disapproving cluck sounded.
“No money, so he shows up in that ragged gear.”
Hestia subtly clenched her fists, as if personally insulted.
‘Aslan Kalati.’
She silently repeated his name, her mouth suddenly dry.
Memories of his hand, which in her past life had desperately grasped hers, kept surfacing—so vividly that her throat tightened.
“Your sword and helmet, please.”
At the steward’s request, Aslan handed over the helmet tucked under his arm and the sword at his waist.
Unconsciously, Hestia kept forcing her gaze upward, standing firm and staring straight ahead.
The moment their eyes met, she clearly saw his golden irises widen briefly.
Then, almost immediately, Aslan’s brows furrowed. Hestia’s heart sank.
‘He’s… displeased.’
Just as she’d feared—it was exactly as expected.
Aslan didn’t like her.
But still—
merely meeting eyes, and he already loathed her enough to make her shiver.
Hestia bit her lower lip without realizing it.
Humiliation made her want to flee the room at once, but she held firm.
‘It’s fine. His dislike for me isn’t exactly new.’
More importantly, she had no time to wait for a better opportunity—she couldn’t predict when Anetsa might act.
Besides, she couldn’t even guess when Aslan’s mood might improve.
‘Perhaps that day will never come in my lifetime.’
She let out a faint, self-mocking smile.
So it was best to speak her request as soon as possible.
To suppress the flood of negative emotions, she swallowed hard.
While she steeled herself, Aslan steadily advanced toward Yorgos.
Clank. Clank.
The sound of metal scraping and clashing echoed with each step he took.
She’d seen him hand his sword to the steward upon entering, but honestly—what good did that do?
His mere presence was overwhelming enough.
With every step Aslan took, it felt as if the very ground beneath their feet trembled.
His presence was that powerful.
Hestia kept swallowing dryly; Aslan was radiating an untamed, ferocious aura without restraint.
Like Yorgos, Aslan’s expression clearly showed he found this whole affair deeply irritating.
‘I can’t breathe.’
Hestia pressed her lips tightly shut.
The closer Aslan came, the harder it became to draw breath—she felt she might suffocate in his dangerous, savage atmosphere.
Unconsciously, she raised her clasped hands and pressed them against her left chest, over her heart.
In that moment, Hestia truly understood why he was called the Black Lion of the North.
He really was a beast—starved and fierce.
Turns Out He’s Been Secretly in Love with Me
One-line summary: He acts like he doesn’t like her but is actually playing hard to get.
Synopsis:
Xu Muzhou like her. He has liked her for a very long time, and through repeated schemes, he finally closed the distance with her.
But this is still far from enough.
He wants to be the one who stands out among her many suitors, to fight for her attention, and to make her take the initiative to pursue him.
_____
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