Chapter 98: Visit

Ross didn’t dodge or respond. He just sat there.

Vanessa stroked his hair, again and again, just like she did when he was sick as a child.

“Your father… has been under a lot of pressure lately. The matter of the Evil God, the affairs at court, and House Dale… He’s not targeting you.”

Ross was silent for a long time, so long that Vanessa thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then he spoke.

“Queen Mother.”

“Yes.”

“Did Freya like me when she was little?”

The Queen’s hand stopped.

“She always used to follow me around and call me Brother Ross.”

Ross’s voice was very soft, so soft it sounded like he was talking to himself.

“Wherever I went, she followed.

Once I fell out of a tree while climbing, and she cried louder than I did.”

He paused.

“But later, she stopped talking to me. Why?”

Vanessa was silent.

She remembered many years ago, after Freya’s mother died, the Duke of Dale came to the Imperial Palace to pick up that little child.

Freya stood beside the carriage and looked back once—

She wasn’t sure if the child was looking at this palace, or at Ross standing on the steps.

Then she got into the carriage and left.

After that, the little girl who used to chase after Ross calling him “Brother” never came back.

“Her mother passed away…”

Vanessa chose her words carefully.

“She was very sad…”

“No.”

Ross interrupted her.

“It’s not because of sadness.

The way she looked at me changed.

It wasn’t grief, it wasn’t distance, it was…”

He paused.

“It was disappointment.

As if I had done something wrong to her.

But I don’t know what I did.”

The Queen said nothing.

Of course she knew why Freya was disappointed—

Not disappointed in Ross, but in her, disappointed in the entire Castor family.

But she couldn’t tell Ross this.

“Maybe… she changed.”

She said softly.

“People change as they grow up.”

Ross shook his head.

“It’s not her who changed. It’s me.”

He lowered his head.

“I’ve done a lot of wrong things.

I listened to words I shouldn’t have, trusted people I shouldn’t have, made choices I shouldn’t have.

I thought I was trying to win her over, but every time I did something, it pushed her further away.”

Vanessa’s fingers slowly tightened.

“Ross, that’s not your fault…”

“Then whose fault is it?”

Ross raised his head, his blue eyes staring straight at her.

“Queen Mother, who arranged for Irina to be at the Academy?”

Vanessa’s expression changed.

“Who made her get close to me?”

Ross’s eyes were red, his voice trembling.

“Who made me think that Freya didn’t like me because she was too proud, too cold, and not because—”

His voice choked, and he didn’t finish.

The room was dead silent.

Vanessa sat there motionless, her well-maintained face showing panic for the first time.

“Ross, Queen Mother only…”

“Only wanted to help me?”

Ross took over her words, and suddenly his voice was calm, calm like still water.

“Queen Mother, have you ever thought that maybe Freya never needed your help? Maybe she never needed me to do anything?”

Vanessa opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found herself unable to speak.

Ross looked at her for a long time, then looked away.

“I’m tired.”

He lay down, turning his back to her.

“Go back, Queen Mother.”

Vanessa sat there, looking at his back.

She reached out, wanting to touch his hair, but her hand hovered in the air for a long time, then slowly withdrew.

She stood up, walked to the door, and looked back—

Ross curled up on the bed, not moving. The moonlight fell on his golden hair, outlining his figure in an especially lonely silhouette.

She pushed open the door and walked out.

The door closed softly behind her.

Vanessa stood in the corridor, back against the cold wall, and closed her eyes.

She remembered Ross as a child—

Sitting on her lap, looking up and calling her Queen Mother.

The first time he put on the Crown Prince’s ceremonial robe, nervous and at a loss.

Standing in front of Freya, when those light purple eyes coldly swept over him, the flicker of hurt in his eyes.

She opened her eyes. Moonlight streamed in from the window, falling on her face, making her well-maintained features look somewhat pale.

“Your Highness.”

A maid’s voice came from afar, cautious.

“Shall we go back?”

Vanessa didn’t answer.

She just stood there, looking at the closed door for a long time.

Then she turned and walked in the other direction.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, growing fainter and fainter.

Freya stood by the dormitory window, looking at the gray sky outside.

It had been several days, and Ross still hadn’t returned to the Academy.

That empty seat was like a silent reminder that some things were not over yet, and some people had not let go.

Anke’s information was always timely, and by evening she brought the latest rumor.

“I heard the Crown Prince is on a hunger strike in the palace, hasn’t eaten for days.”

She lowered her voice, her brown eyes flashing with complex light.

“The Emperor is furious, the Queen is frantic, but no one can talk him out of it.”

Freya didn’t speak, just turned a page of her book.

Anke looked at her calm appearance, hesitated to speak, but finally sighed.

“Freya… will you go see him?”

“No.”

Anke was silent and didn’t ask again.

Outside the window, the night grew deeper. She stood up to leave.

When she reached the door, she stopped.

“Freya, I know you don’t like the Crown Prince, and I know he did a lot of things wrong.

But…”

She paused.

“When he was little, he was really good to you.”

The door closed behind her.

Freya sat there, not turning a page for a long time.

Lyra was lying on the floor mat, secretly watching her. She wanted to say something, but didn’t know what to say, so finally she burrowed herself into the blanket.

The next morning, as soon as Freya walked out of the dormitory building, she saw someone who shouldn’t be here.

Vanessa stood at the bottom of the steps, wearing a simple, unadorned dress, without any attendants. She stood there alone. The morning light fell on her hair, making her face, so similar to Ross’s, look somewhat pale.

“Freya.”

She spoke, her voice a little hoarse.

Freya stopped.

Lyra’s brow immediately furrowed, and she instinctively took half a step forward.

Freya raised her hand to stop her.

“Wait for me.”

She said softly, then walked toward the Queen.

The two stood under the phoenix tree. The morning wind swept up a few fallen leaves, swirling around their feet.

Vanessa looked at Freya for a long time. Her blue eyes, so like Ross’s, churned with complex emotions.

“Ross… hasn’t eaten for days.”

Her voice was very soft.

“I know I have no right to come and beg you, and I know you hate me.”

She paused.

“But… for the sake of your mother and I being friends, for the sake of you two growing up together…”

She didn’t finish.

Freya looked at her, looking at this woman who had once been high and mighty, who could manipulate things with a flip of her hand. Now she stood before her, eyes slightly red, voice trembling, like an ordinary mother anxious for her son.

“I’ll go.”

Freya said.

Vanessa’s head shot up, her blue eyes full of disbelief.

Freya didn’t look at her again. She turned and walked back to Lyra.

“I’m going to the Imperial Palace. You go find Anke. Don’t wait for me at noon.”

Lyra grabbed her sleeve.

“Boss!”

“It’s fine.”

Freya gently pulled her hand away and ruffled her hair.

“I’ll be back soon.”

She followed Vanessa into the carriage.

The wheels rolled, and the Imperial Palace drew nearer.

Freya leaned against the inner wall of the carriage and closed her eyes.

She recalled the last moment of her previous life—Ross raising his sword, Irina sneering behind him.

Her heart ached with a phantom pain—

It had once been pierced by a sword blade, once torn apart by mana.

In this life, that sword has not yet fallen. Ross has not yet become the one who kills her.

But there are some things she cannot wait to remedy after they happen.

The carriage stopped.

Freya opened her eyes.

Ross’s room was deep within the Imperial Palace, so quiet that she could only hear her own heartbeat.

Vanessa stopped at the door.

“He’s inside.”

She said softly.

“Go on in.”

Freya pushed open the door and walked in.

The room was very dark. The curtains were drawn tight, with only a thin line of light squeezing in through a gap.

The air was thick with a suffocating, depressing atmosphere.

Ross sat on the edge of the bed, his back to the door. He didn’t turn around when he heard footsteps.

“I said I’m not eating.”

His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

Freya didn’t answer. She just stood there.

Ross waited a moment, but the person didn’t leave, nor did they continue to persuade.

A little annoyed, he turned his head.

“I said I—”

He froze.

Freya stood by the door, backlit. Her light purple hair stood out strikingly in the dim room.

She looked at him. There was no ripple in her light purple eyes.

“I heard you’re not eating.”

Her voice was very calm.

“Came to see if you’re dead or not.”

Ross opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn’t speak.

He just looked at her, like he was looking at someone who had returned from very, very far away.

“You…”

His voice was as rough as sandpaper.

“Why are you here?”

“Your mother came to find me.”

Freya walked over and sat down on the chair opposite him.

“She knelt and begged me, tears streaming.”

Ross lowered his head.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have let Queen Mother go find you…”

“You didn’t wrong me.”

Freya’s voice remained calm.

“You wronged yourself.”

Ross said nothing. He just sat there like a withered tree struck by lightning.

Freya looked at him, at his gaunt face, his dull eyes, his cracked lips.

She remembered Ross as a child—

Golden hair shining in the sun, a smile as bright as a summer sun, holding her hand and running in the garden, calling her “Little Sister Freya.”

“Ross.”

She spoke.

He looked up.

“Do you like me?”

Ross stared at her calm light purple eyes, his lips moving.