BTCATL 01

1.CHAPTER

“I’m busy right now, so go back…”

“Duke, please divorce me.”

A light voice echoed through the room. The man, who had been waving his hand dismissively, paused.

Only then did his frowning face turn to look directly at me.

Once, that frown had terrified me more than anything else—but now, I felt nothing.

“Do you have somewhere to go and something to do?”

Even his voice, piercing the painful reality of how the imperial palace had all but abandoned me, didn’t make me flinch.

That mocking tone, which once broke my heart, no longer made me sad.

Maybe it was because I had finally let go. No matter what he said, the heart that once fluttered helplessly now remained still—almost as if dead.

Bang!

“Karl…!”

Just as I was about to respond, the office door burst open, and a familiar woman’s voice filled the space.

Her luscious pink hair flew in the air. She quickly clung to the Duke’s arm, glancing coquettishly between the Duke and me.

It was obvious—she must have heard I was alone with the Duke and rushed over in a panic.

She was so brazen, it almost made me forget she had once tried to kill me.

The audacity.

“Karl, what’s going on?”

The woman, Sarsha, with eyes shining like a rabbit’s, asked in a chirping voice that echoed through the now quiet office.

The Duke. Karl.

Even the way she addressed him showed how different we were.

Suppressing a sigh, I raised the corners of my lips before the Duke could answer his beloved mistress.

“I’m giving you a gift, Sarsha.”

“…A gift?”

“Yes.”

I stepped closer to the Duke’s desk and laid down a document with my signature.

“If you’re looking for an answer to what I just said, I have one, Your Grace.”

So I’d like you to handle this, please. You hate me anyway.

When I added that, the Duke looked dumbfounded, staring between me and the document.

Why did he look so surprised? He was the one who gave me the papers in the first place.

“Wait, Ashila…”

“Karl.”

Tilting my head slightly, I watched the two whisper sweetly to each other.

“…Fine. I’ll take care of it.”

With that clear answer, I turned and walked out of the office without a second glance.

The office was on the top floor—the fifth—of the mansion. Leaning on the railing, I could see the entire estate.

Servants bustling around. The vast rooms of the mansion.

To someone else, this might be a place they’d dream of stepping foot in even once. But to me, it was nothing more than a stifling prison.

Three years. I lived here for three years. Some might say it’s a short time—but for me, it was the most agonizing period of my life.

And today, I cast off all the chains that bound me.

The abandoned imperial princess. The title-only duchess.

Those are labels I’ll never carry again.

I smiled, feeling liberated.

The life of being someone’s puppet—was finally over.

* * * *

“Marry Grand Duke Ludwig.”

A unilateral marriage decree, without a shred of regard for my will.

The eyes of my father—the Emperor—as he delivered this command, were nothing but cold.

The eyes of someone looking at something useless. No, worse—eyes filled with contempt.

I wasn’t surprised.

I was the Emperor’s illegitimate child.

Because the imperial family always lacked enough heirs, I was granted the title of princess—but that was it.

I was born to a maid whom the drugged Emperor spent a single night with.

My mother, a fallen noble turned palace maid, had somehow dared to seduce the Emperor with a potion.

They say even carefully planned pregnancies often don’t succeed. So why did I end up being born from a single encounter?

I lowered my eyes.

To the Emperor—who had a very affectionate relationship with the Empress—I was nothing but an obstacle, an object of loathing.

Every time he looked at me, I imagine he saw my mother, who was already dead.

He never came to see me, not even once—but still.

How could the Empress like a child born from a woman who tricked her husband into bed? Naturally, the legitimate Crown Prince—her son—looked at me with scorn too.

The humiliating nickname “the discarded princess” came easily. Everyone in the palace ignored me. They despised me.

I think, when I was very young, I still longed for their love.

I used to crouch in front of my father’s palace every day. Only those with permission could enter the main palace, so I sat quietly in a secluded spot in the outer garden.

Even when it rained, I waited in the downpour just to see my father’s face. Even with a fever, I dragged myself out there.

Many people saw me like that—surely word reached him. But the Emperor never came.

Every day, I sent letters written in a child’s clumsy handwriting to the main palace. They always came back torn to shreds.

Still, I didn’t give up.

As a child, I craved his attention—his love.

If my mother had ever given me love, maybe I wouldn’t have gone that far.

But I was constantly exposed to her violence. I learned early on I would never receive her affection. So I clung to my distant father instead.

Eventually, I started to wear down.

A mother who screamed at me while crying every day. A wet nurse who vanished without a trace.

My surroundings forced me to grow up far too fast.

I learned how to endure pain. Learned not to scream when sharp objects flew at me. Learned how to hide my illnesses.

I had no power to escape my situation, so I desperately sought someone—anyone—to care.

I begged for the Emperor’s love.

I sent letters again and again. “It’s hard.” “Please help me.” No—“Save me.”

Even if I was mature for my age, I was still just a little girl.

Small. Frail. Insignificant.

There’s a limit to what a child can endure.

When my letters finally stopped coming back torn, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe he did care. Maybe he would rescue me from this hell.

But no matter how long I waited, he never came.

I tried everything to reach him. I even sent letters to the Empress, hoping she might say something to him.

What I got in return was my half-brother slapping the letter across my face.

No one helped me.

I was sad.

I was angry.

It wasn’t my choice to be born. I never asked to be here.

I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just exhausted. I just needed someone to rely on.

In one of the few fairy tale books in the palace—which I read until the pages were worn—there were “normal families.”

Parents who loved each other. Brothers and sisters who bickered affectionately. Peaceful, gentle lives.

Some people called that “ordinary,” but to me, it was a desperate dream. One I clung to without letting go.

I remember seeing the Empress’s palace from afar—my half-brother laughing between his loving parents.

It looked like I could reach them if I just stretched out my hand a little farther. That made it even harder to give up.

—

“The daughter of a criminal who seduced His Majesty with drugs—how dare she be so annoying.”

“A discarded princess.”

“She should’ve died. She’s cursed.”

—

As I sat in the garden, the palace servants whispered among themselves.

Those words stabbed into my young heart.

Then one day, my mother died.

As if a grey world was now shrouded in black smoke.

The mother I remember was always violent to me.

She’d scream it was my fault the Emperor never came. She threw old pottery and vases at me, cutting my skin and making me bleed.

It was an endless nightmare. She pushed me to my limits.

Then, she died.

People swarmed the old palace to collect her body.

They cursed at the sight of her hanging corpse. I was tossed into a corner of the room like garbage.

Even if they scowled at me, no one looked directly at me.

Complete disregard.

After they left, I checked my aching body.

Scars from things my mother had thrown covered me.

“…Ha. Hahaha. Hahahaha!”

Little me burst into a dry laugh.

Normal? What a joke.

Affection. Love. Things some people receive without asking. Things I had desperately begged for my entire life—but stupidly, I only realized then.

Or maybe, I had simply resigned myself.

I was utterly alone in this bleak, grey world.

Love? That was a luxury. For the rest of my life, I’d be bound by my mother’s sins, gossiped about by others.

I built walls around my heart. I forgot how to smile—and how to cry.

Eventually, the scorn and disgust in people’s eyes became too much.

Even after all the years of being used to it, those looks still pierced my skin.

From age fifteen, I never stepped outside the palace again.

It was suffocating—but going outside would only bring more suffocation. So I let time pass me by.

Then, on that day—my own father, whose face I had nearly forgotten, summoned me.

In front of all the whispering nobles, he announced my marriage had been arranged.

I looked at his face, then nodded blankly.

Did he know?

That it was my birthday that day?

I had the answer immediately.

No.

I shook off that foolish thought and turned away.

Part of me felt relief. At least I’d be leaving this palace.

Little did I know—that man, the Grand Duke, would drag me even deeper into despair.