Princess’s Struggle for Survival

"Do you hate him?"

After Prince Lucas left, Astrid turned to look at Lyra.

The girl's vigilance had yet to fully dissolve, her delicate frame was visibly tense, as if she were guarding against something.

Hearing Astrid's sudden question, Lyra released her clenched lip, wanting to answer but hesitating due to their relationship.

She remained silent for a long time, simply staring at Astrid.

"Just tell the truth, don't feel any unnecessary pressure."

Astrid slowly approached, the corners of her lips curving into a beautiful arc.

"I promise you, no matter what you say next, I won't be angry."

A sweet fragrance lingered in the air. Lyra instinctively averted her gaze and instead found herself looking downward, at Astrid's delicate collarbone, where a few strands of silky silver hair draped elegantly on either side of her chest.

Astrid's high heels made her four or five centimeters taller than Lyra, creating a noticeable height difference between them.

From her elevated position, Astrid's cold yet charming features were even more striking.

After a long pause, Lyra finally spoke in a soft voice.

"I don't like him... even just a little."

Astrid then asked, "Why?"

"Because of the way he looks at me..."

"More specifically?"

Recalling Prince Lucas's every move in the room earlier, Lyra pursed her lips, hesitating before speaking again. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"It doesn't feel like he's looking at a person, it's more like he's inspecting a product on a shelf."

"And... It's particularly aggressive. It makes me very uncomfortable."

Even someone as innocent as Lyra, who had a natural inclination to like people, couldn't bring herself to like him.

Prince Lucas really wasn't trying to disguise his intentions at all.

Still, Astrid wasn't surprised.

A noble-born royal crown prince like Lucas would inevitably carry an ingrained sense of superiority, one that was especially pronounced when dealing with those of significantly lower status.

It was something developed over time, etched into his very bones, and difficult to change.

And from what Astrid knew of Lucas, he likely viewed Lyra as nothing more than a plaything, something to amuse himself with, a toy to torment.

He had no intention of taking her seriously. The original Astrid was the same, if a situation like this arose, she would torment Lyra for a while and, once she grew bored, simply hand her over to him.

In a way, she and Lucas weren't just siblings. They were far more alike than that.

"Looks like you really do hate him. There's no need to soften it with 'a little'..."

Astrid's tone remained steady, devoid of fluctuation. It was impossible to tell whether she was angry or not. Before Lyra could respond, Astrid suddenly changed the subject.

"Does Miss Lyra hate me?"

The question caught Lyra completely off guard. Instinctively, she wanted to deny it, but when she searched for a reason not to hate Astrid, she found none.

Losing her rightful admission spot had been entirely Astrid's doing.

And now, she was trapped at her side, like a caged bird stripped of its freedom.

By all logic, she should hate her. Yet, at this moment, the emotion in her heart wasn't as strong as she had expected.

Why?

Confused, Lyra sifted through her thoughts, and her mind settled on the memory of that fateful night, when Astrid had forced her to stay.

"Not really," Astrid had said back then. "But someone wanted that spot, and the gift just happened to make me happy."

"So you sold her what was supposed to be mine..."

"You can understand it that way."

Remembering those blood-pressure-raising words, Lyra's suppressed emotions cracked through the surface. She closed her eyes and, after a moment, spoke slowly.

"I hate you."

In her heart, she added, just a little bit. But this time, it was real.

Instead of anger, Astrid responded with laughter.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she brushed her fingers against the silver strands resting on her collarbone.

"You're honest."

She was quite satisfied with Lyra's answer, for now.

Had Lyra changed her attitude too quickly, that would have been a sign of impatience.

Rushing leads to mistakes, and mistakes could arouse Lucas's suspicion.

For now, Astrid had no intention of directly falling out with the crown prince.

"As a reward for your honesty, your payment from Elise will increase from eight gold to ten this month."

Lyra was momentarily stunned. Not only was Astrid not angry, but she had also given her a raise. It took her a moment to respond, then she hurriedly bowed her head.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Being told she was annoying yet rewarded with a higher salary, Princess Astrid was truly a strange person.

As she collected the pollen of the Greenstone Flower, Lyra kept mulling over it, then quickly handed the small porcelain plate to Astrid.

After a brief session of mixing and heating, the second potion was successfully refined. Astrid forced herself to focus, carefully observing the color to ensure the quality hadn't declined.

But no matter how much she tried to push through, the dizziness creeping in was undeniable.

'My mental power is running out.'

If she attempted to refine even half a bottle more, she would collapse on the spot. Deciding against it, Astrid let out a slow breath and instructed Lyra to carry the finished product back with her.

"Your Highness Astrid... are you alright?"

Even Lyra noticed her pale complexion.

"I'm fine."

Stepping out of the pharmacy, Astrid found the sunlight suddenly too bright.

She narrowed her eyes, letting the cool wind brush against her skin as she walked forward.

Seeing this, Lyra quickly followed, adjusting her pace to match Astrid's.

There was something indescribably fragile about the princess in this moment.

Upon returning to Astrid's chambers, she instructed Lyra to prepare a cup of milk tea before settling onto the bed and closing her eyes.

This drained, hollow feeling, one that meditation alone couldn't ease, it was was unbearable.

She needed rest.

By the time Lyra returned with the tea, Astrid was already lying on her side.

The only thing she'd managed to remove were her high heels, her long skirt and stockings still in place, slightly rumpled against her delicate frame.

Lyra's gaze lingered on Astrid's bare black-stockinged legs peeking out from beneath the quilt.

After a moment of hesitation, she chose not to wake her. Instead, she quietly set down the teacup, drew the curtains, and took a seat beside the bed.

Watching the princess sleep, Lyra's thoughts drifted to her distant homeland, to her parents.

'If I were at home, falling asleep in outdoor clothes like this would have earned me a scolding from Mother…'