Lady To Queen Chapter 57

Chapter 57 – Objective Pain

Patrizia was crying. Large tears formed on her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.

“Ah…”

Only then did she notice her tears, and she quickly wiped her face. Despite her efforts, the tears continued to flow.

“I'm…I'm sorry, Your Majesty,” she said thickly.

“But I…I just couldn't believe it. How could…how could anyone put someone through such a terrible thing…”

“How could you describe it so casually?” Patrizia's words almost broke at the end of her sentence. It seemed impossible. Lucio went through something that a human being should never go through, and yet somehow he managed to speak so calmly.

Why? Why did Lucio seem so indifferent to his trauma? Was Patrizia the only one who was heartbroken? The only one who was…sad?

“Heug…ah….”

Her tears began to flow freely again. She wasn't confident she could keep herself composed after hearing his story, but neither would any other ordinary person.

“You…why…” Lucio attempted. Why was Patrizia crying? He didn't understand. He didn't think it was a normal reaction. No one cried for him. No one ever sympathized with his misery and misfortune. No one offered him comfort or a warm touch after his experience, and people instead chose to cruelly gossip about him in the Imperial Palace. He didn't know what it was like for another person to grieve with him…

“Why…why are you crying?” he managed to ask.

For Patrizia, it was a given. When faced with tragedy, it was natural to be angry, sad, fierce. But no one taught Lucio that.

“Because…because I'm sad,” Patrizia wept. “To experience that at a young age…it is difficult enough for an adult to handle. And I am sad that you have to relive the memories of that day.”

How many tears did Lucio have to shed before he could recount it without it affecting him at all? How many times did he tremble? How many times would he have blamed and hurt himself? How many…

“How…how can you have such a careless look on your face?” she asked. That poor man should be broken down with grief. She gave another strangled sob.

Lucio didn't react like a normal person. But why? Why didn't he cry? Didn't he feel sad? Angry at the injustice that was wrecked upon him? Did he really want to kill that woman?

Patrizia may not be in love with him, but she felt sorry for his misfortune, and for the hurt inflicted upon him. But why did he not weep? Why did he not rage? Had he already become so accustomed to it? Was that pain, anger, and sadness already familiar to him? How much was he hurting by himself?

“You can cry, Your Majesty,” she said.

“It's something you can cry about.”

“It's not a story one tells with such a casual expression, it's not…”

She finally knelt down on the ground in front of him and shuddered from her weeping. Lucio knelt down as well, and observed Patrizia's sobbing form.

He didn't understand her reaction. Why was she so sad for him? She said with certainty that she didn't love him, and she must be angry that he often sided with Rosemond.

“You're…” Lucio began in a cracked voice. “You're crying because of me?”

“…What do you mean by that?”

“You don't even like me,” he pointed out in an even voice.

“It's not just that I don't like you,” Patrizia confessed in a wet voice. “I hate you.”

“…Then why?”

“Because I feel sorry for you.” She raised her tear-filled eyes and looked at him. There was not a shadow of emotion on his face. Somehow, that only made her heart break even more. “What you've been through is far worse than what I've experienced.”

“I cannot compare my misfortunes to yours, even when I hate you.”

“And so I cry. I cry out of pity for you,” she said, wiping her tears. “I pity that you cannot shed a tear, even now.”

“Oh…”

Patrizia's words seemed to crack his facade, and she looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

“Ugh…” Lucio pressed both his hands against his face. No one cried for him, and no one gave him permission to cry. Not even Rosemond. No one except for his queen, who didn't even love him.

There was a shudder in his body, and he started to cry. Patrizia watched him as a soft sob first broke out, and then another.

“Ah…euheug.”

Patrizia swallowed her tears and slowly reached out to Lucio. She bit her lip, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His tears felt hot against her in the cold air, and she wept with him.

For a long time, they shared their grief until it was hard to breathe.

“We're here, Lady Rosemond,” the carriage driver said.

Rosemond stepped off the carriage with a cold look on her face, and scowled at the castle before her that housed two people she hated. She slipped high-heeled shoes onto her feet, then began walking.

She did not say a word as she approached the castle.

Meanwhile, Glara shot anxious looks at Rosemond from behind. Her master had never been so silent before. Rosemond chatted over tea in a relaxed manner, even when she was locked up in prison. This time, however, her face was as stiff as stone, and she remained mute. Glara couldn't shake off the feeling that something was strange.

As soon as Rosemond entered the castle, a butler greeted them. “You're here, Lady Rosemond?”

Rosemond did not acknowledge him, and simply searched for Baron Darrow and his wife. It wasn't hard to find them, as they emerged when they heard the butler.

“Our Rose is here. It's been a long time.”

“Yes, my darling. How many years has it been? Rest, it must have been a long journey.”

Rosemond did not react to their warm words. She only felt bitter hatred towards them, and it made no difference whether they insulted her or praised her. Besides, soon she would move up in society.

With a stony expression, Rosemond took out a document and handed it to them. “Sign,” she said shortly.

“What is this, my daughter?” Baron Darrow asked.

My daughter. How disgusting. When has that man ever treated her like a daughter before?

“It can't be. A renunciation of parental authority?”

Rosemond thought he shouldn't dare be surprised. It was exactly what he wanted. He wanted her gone. He wanted her to disappear from this world. Didn't he just stand aside and do nothing? No, she wasn't being condescending, she was being encouraging.

“I can do as I please!” she snapped.

“You are my daughter.”

Rosemond was already exhausted by his opposition. She didn't want to exchange words with these people as much as possible. Her perfect plan was to come to this castle, stay in it for a maximum of thirty minutes, and then leave. About ten minutes had already passed by now, and there was another twenty left. She spoke, hoping to end this quickly.

“It would be beneficial for you to sign,” Rosemond said in a cool voice. “I already have His Majesty's approval. I am no longer a daughter of Baron Darrow, but of Duke Ephreney. If you care for me at all, just shut up and sign it. I want to get out of this place as soon as possible.”

Every miserable word was true. She wanted to throw off the remainder of this dirty castle off her back and forget it for the rest of her life. Although Darrow was her first identity, it would not be her last.

The Baron's wife looked hurt. “My baby, why would you say that—”

The Baroness' were utterly ridiculous, but Rosemond did not so much as crack a smile. She loathed every corner of this place.

“Drop the mask, Baroness. It's disgusting.”

“You—”

“Honey, stop. Rose, please stop,” Baron Darrow interjected, but the feeling of loathing only swelled in Rosemond even more. How dare he pretend to be her father now?

“You stop,” Rosemond spat. “Do you even have the right to call me by my name?”

“Rose—”

“Don't call me that,” she warned, her eyes flashing like steel. She started to feel nauseous, but she ignored the feeling and kept her face composed. “You must be confused about this, but you have no choice in this matter. Just accept it.”

Accept it like she had to in the past. It's not like he was losing anything important, right?

“Just shut up and sign. I'm sick of this damn castle and I want to get out as soon as possible.”

Both the Baron's and Baroness' faces hardened, and even the Baroness couldn't hide her irritation. The Baron remained in silent thought for a moment, then spoke.

“My baby.”

The pair held on to each other and cried for a long time. At some point, they finally released each other, and Patrizia sat next to Lucio, feeling self-conscious of her tear-swollen face. Both had completely spent themselves from crying.

A wall of silence seemed to sit between them, before Patrizia breached it by speaking up first.

“Your Majesty.”

“…Yes.”

“I have a question.”

“Ask.”

Patrizia looked towards Lucio. “I thought you loved Rosemond and considered her special.”

“Is it related to what you said before…?”

“Yes.”

When Patrizia received confirmation that her guess was right, she closed her eyes quietly. She thought there was something more between Lucio and Rosemond from the beginning. It wasn't just mere affection that bound them.

“She's a woman that has as many stories as I do,” Lucio said.

Patrizia smiled inside when she heard those words. It seemed there were three main characters, and all of them had a story.

A young woman's family was beheaded, then she returned to the past. Another killed his biological mother by order of his adoptive mother. What was the third? Patrizia did not have a good feeling about it.

“…It's why I can't leave her,” Lucio said.

“…Is her situation similar to yours, Your Majesty?” asked Patrizia.

“Well,” he replied vaguely. “Isn't the amount of pain subjective?”

Patrizia agreed, but she also thought there was an objective argument in Lucio's case.

“Her pain is objective,” Lucio said.

Just like his. Another story began.

Chapter end