Chapter 36 The Third Bloodstain Your answers are all wrong.

It's the perfect time for a nap in the afternoon.

A misty aroma mingled with incense, enveloping the luxurious bedroom in a fog-like atmosphere.

Layers of white and gold curtains hung down, isolating the king's life from the sight of his attendants.

A beautiful woman bent down and gazed affectionately at the handsome young man lying on his side in her arms.

So beautiful...My King.

Wenzhu looked at Eva, who was napping in her arms, with admiration. She had heard that the king had amazing beauty before entering the palace, but she never expected him to be so captivating.

The concubine, beautiful but no more beautiful than the king, stroked the king's thick eyelashes with her gaze and floating fingers through the air, her heart filled with tenderness and affection.

Last night was so much fun... I wish I could stay with her forever.

Deep within Wenzhu's smiling eyes was a hint of anxiety: Such a handsome king is naturally not lacking in love, with so many beauties willing to flutter around her like butterflies, so what am I?

Wenzhu's mother was merely the lord of a small city-state, and the support her family provided was far less than the honor that Wang Neng brought them.

All she could rely on was her noble bloodline and her unremarkable appearance compared to the king.

"Sigh..." Wenzhu couldn't help but sigh as she looked at Wang's exquisite face and nose. Even though Wang was pressing down on her knees and long hair, she couldn't bear to move an inch.

“Uh,” Eva frowned in her sleep, her expression seemingly pained.

But Moonjoo didn't notice Eva's pain; she only thought that the way the king frowned was very handsome, and she liked this serious, even slightly frightening, look the most.

As expected of a queen, she governs the country well even in her dreams... No, she's probably hunting? Reliving past wars?

Just as Wenzhu was about to imagine herself as the wise and diligent king she had always fantasized about when talking to Eva, she remembered that the young man on her lap slept for twelve hours every day, and even when he woke up, he was always out drinking and partying.

She suddenly felt an urge to encourage students to study.

If she could persuade the king to return to being the diligent and wise king who was good at fighting, history would surely record her as "Queen Munju" or "a certain wise queen".

Maybe, just maybe, I can become the king's next queen? The king is still very young, and we can have several more children together.

Wenzhu's heart fluttered; the future she imagined was so beautiful that she couldn't help but want to reach out and shake the sleeping Wang awake—thankfully, reason stopped her.

No, no, you absolutely cannot do that.

She remembered that she wasn't the only one who had done this; many beautiful young women had tried to persuade the king, but they had all failed.

The king wouldn't argue with them; she would simply wave her hand with that bored expression, and then those beauties could only wither away quietly, never to appear before the king again.

“Hmm…” Eva slowly opened her eyes, turned over and lay on her back – but she didn’t see the person she was lying on, she just stared at the crystal decorations on the dome.

Wenzhu bit her lip and called out softly, "Your Majesty."

"Hmm..." Eva's eyes finally turned around, and she seemed to glance at her.

Just that one cold, indifferent glance was enough to completely sober up Wenzhu.

She flinched guiltily, and her fingernail snagged on Eva's hair, pulling out a few strands of that ebony hair.

"Hiss..." Eva squinted and hissed in confusion, but it didn't seem like she was angry.

However, Wenzhu trembled with fear, still immersed in her fantasy: What if the king had someone drag me out? And then, and then I would never see the king again!

She hurriedly picked up the silver wine pot beside the couch, filled the cup with wine, and tremblingly smiled as she did last night, bringing the cup to her lips, "Your Majesty, I... I will punish myself with a cup."

“…” Eva looked at her with an ambiguous expression.

Wenzhu couldn't read the other person's eyes and didn't bother to look anymore. She tilted her head back and drank it all in one gulp.

A few drops of wine slid down the corners of his mouth and his fair skin, bringing with them a... wonderful, lightheaded feeling.

Hey, why is this wine so...

Intoxicating? Arousing? Numb and tingling.

After just one glass, Wenzhu immediately realized that this wine was very different from the one she had drunk last night.

It wasn't a delicious fruit wine or a stimulating grain wine, but a kind of medicinal wine that made her tongue numb and her mind wander.

I think I've drunk something similar before?

Wenzhu's eyes and shoulders swayed uncontrollably from side to side, and she staggered and fell to the floor.

Eva rose from the couch, casting a deep shadow that blocked out all the light.

Under the shadow of the darkness, Wenzhu finally remembered when she had drunk a similar liquid. It was when she was a child, after playing in the river, that she fell seriously ill and was bedridden.

My mother brought over a supposedly very precious pain-relieving herbal medicine, and it seemed to have this kind of effect, except it didn't taste like alcohol.

Why did the king drink the medicinal wine? Was it because he liked...?

She could think no more and closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

Eva stared at the beauty on the ground with a gloomy expression, then looked away after a few seconds.

"Drag her away." She tossed her hair aside, stepped barefoot onto the carpet, her eyes devoid of any emotion.

The servants emerged silently from behind the curtain, one carrying her by the arm and the other by the leg, and carried the fast-sleeping Wenzhu out.

Eva picked up the silver wine pot, took a sip, and then slumped back on the couch with a normal expression.

"come over."

She didn't say her name, but the person in question had already approached from the other side of the curtain.

The woman did not kneel or bow. Instead, she silently placed her hand on her chest and whispered in Eva's ear in a calm and gentle tone, recounting the events that had occurred at the market that day.

"...I see."

Eva rubbed her temples, her expression once again turning somber and unreadable.

That was by no means well-intentioned, nor was it a mother's pride and joy for her daughter. It wasn't exactly melancholy, but more like a kind of... helplessness.

"Heh." She chuckled, closed her eyes, and made a gesture of raising one finger.

So the person who had been speaking softly behind him withdrew, leaving the king alone in the empty palace.

"Who does this child take after?"

Eva closed her eyes and murmured to herself, "Anyway, it doesn't look like you."

Today, the queen does not see her ministers; she sits for a long time in the darkness.

Her personal attendant, wearing a platinum and gold belt, crawled gently before her and whispered, "Princess Eleanor and Princess Myrcella request an audience."

"Let her in, ha."

Wang, who had been sitting there blankly, immediately reacted, and her reply was so quick that she laughed at herself.

The attendant withdrew silently, and then—the lights came on.

As people came to pay their respects, lamps were lit one by one.

The heavy curtains blocked out the light of day, making the flames shine even brighter.

A girl with cascading black hair walked towards us through the darkness.

When those bright amber eyes shone upon her, for a moment Eva thought it was her younger self looking up, silently questioning something.

Fortunately, the child spoke up quickly.

Eleanor no longer rushed into her mother's arms; she stood a few steps away and bowed respectfully.

"Mother, how are you? I have something interesting to tell you."

Very good, excellent.

Eva relaxed and almost wanted to applaud. This child was indeed very smart, just not tactful enough.

...Well, although I do dislike smooth-talking people more.

Wang chuckled and waved his hand, gesturing for him to speak quickly.

It was only then that she noticed Eleanor's other daughter—Myrcella.

The child looked sullen. She forced her way out from behind her sister and found a corner to sit down.

Eva’s gaze returned to Eleanor, listening as she recounted the fabricated story.

"...That's how it is. The wealthy merchant Doni is willing to offer you a thousand well-trained slaves, as well as many exquisite tapestries and jewels."

Eleanor smiled and said, "My daughter wishes to ask you for a favor: to get rid of those slaves—"

Eva looked into her daughter's eyes and roughly understood what she was going to say.

Indeed, it was "given to my sister Myrcella".

Before the king could speak, Mysera jumped up from her seat and retorted loudly, "I don't want that! What kind of trash is the slave legion? Mother, just give me some elite troops!"

"Sister, what are you saying!" Eleanor rushed over to stop her in anger, but she was much weaker than her sister and was easily blocked by Myrcella, who grabbed her wrist and pinned her to the side.

Hmph~ My "Crown Prince" is throwing a tantrum.

Eva wasn't surprised. After all, this child has never had his own army. He must have been holding back a lot of frustration.

She wasn't wrong. The next second, Mysella shouted angrily, "I'm almost thirteen years old, and all I do all day is practice, practice, practice! I can't even be a general!"

According to the tradition of Norlana and most countries, all princesses receive highly specialized training at the age of seven or eight and are assigned to a general chosen by the king, gradually integrating into the military system.

The Crown Princess, in particular, should receive a real army on her twelfth birthday and gradually undertake some tours in the following years.

For example, supervising tax collection, hunting giant beasts, and eliminating bandits and highway robbers.

However, like her older sisters, Misella stays in the royal capital's school all day long, studying and studying, and rarely has the opportunity to go hunting. How can this not make her feel uncomfortable and anxious?

Eleanor almost laughed in exasperation at her sister's "wonderful" performance.

She had just given Mysella countless instructions outside, telling her to make a good impression on Eva and at least recruit a thousand soldiers—and this is how she performed?!

Her blood pressure rose rapidly: Even if Andra was arrogant in her previous life, she never put on airs when facing soldiers, and she would never talk nonsense in front of outsiders!

And is this really just nonsense instead of the truth?

Trash slaves.....

Eleanor suddenly felt that her sister was a stranger.

In her past life, she spent decades with Andra before she could barely see through his true nature. What about Mysera?

Is Mysella really that "a bit mischievous, but loyal and willing to protect the country" good older sister?

Maybe it will be like that in the future, but right now, this child who clearly promised not to lose his temper but still couldn't help but make a scene in front of his mother is obviously just naughty.

Eleanor took a deep breath; thankfully, the pendant was there to catch her, or everything would have been over.

She turned back to look at Eva with a sense of relief, wondering if her mother simply liked outspoken children like Mysella.

"Heh." Eva smiled ambiguously.

She crossed her legs high above her, her fingers rhythmically tapping the armrest.

The mother's attitude made Mysella lose her temper, like a small animal that had withdrawn its claws but still wanted to test the waters.

Eva did not answer her two daughters' questions. She suddenly took out a golden wine jug from behind her—perhaps from a hidden compartment at the edge of the long bed—and refilled the empty cup.

Clang.

She pushed a glass of murky liquid in front of the two children.

"Drink up." Eva finally stood up from the couch.

Without hesitation, she looked at the child who resembled her more and called out her name with a smile: "Eleanor".

"......"

Eleanor noticed and looked up, slowly taking her grip on the glass.

"Huh? Why are you making Eleanor drink alcohol? She doesn't like it!" Myrcella remembered that her sister had never liked drinking alcohol since she was little, and she wouldn't let her drink with younger children, even scaring them by saying that drinking would make them stupid.

Eva did not answer; she simply gazed into Eleanor's eyes, just as her daughter gazed into hers.

Eleanor slowly brought the cup to her lips and took a sip.

"Cough cough cough!" The taste is pungent and irritating, not pleasant at all, and—

It's definitely not alcohol, and it's not just any alcohol.

Colorless, odorless, and highly poisonous—it's indeed difficult to find all three options.

She looked up at Eva again, but her mother remained expressionless.

"Why?" Eleanor knew it was definitely not just because of a hunt, a confrontation, or a decision she made on her own.

Because her mother had doted on her so much in her past life that she had told her this even at the very end of her life.

"I don't have many days left to live. Go quickly, Lily. Go far away from that boy. She... can continue to protect you."

My mother wasn't a good person; she was mean to many people, but in my past life, she at least "loved" me.

What exactly went wrong?

Could it be that she... thinks I'm a monster who has taken over her daughter's body?

Eleanor stared intently into Eva's eyes. If she didn't receive a truly heartfelt answer, this regression would be a failure no matter what.

She must break free from the future of relying on Andra and forever choosing the same path as Andra!

"You drink first, drink quickly." A hint of sadness finally surfaced in Eva's eyes. She half-squatted down and stroked Eleanor's shoulder, like a mother comforting her daughter to take her medicine.

“Okay, you must tell me.” Eleanor nodded solemnly and brought the cup to her lips.

Mysella, who was just throwing a tantrum, has finally realized what's wrong.

She bristled like a small animal, frantically struggling to jump up and grab the cup.

"Wait a minute, no—what are you doing?!"

Unfortunately, she was still a step too late; her sister's actions were so resolute.

Eleanor tilted her head back and drank the liquid in the glass in one gulp.

With a clang, the golden cup rolled to the ground.

She gripped her pendant tightly, then raised her head and loudly questioned the king: "Mother—what do I have to do for you to let me go, to let Myrcella go?"

She finally realized that it was probably Myrcella who was truly facing an inevitable death crisis.

After her first regression, she did not say anything to her mother such as "I want to be a queen, I want to be a princess" or anything similar.

Eleanor was safe and sound in her previous life, but Myrcella died on her way to becoming king.

[The mother never had the idea of ​​passing the throne to Myrcella.]

That's why Eva has been slow to give Mysella command of the army and has allowed her to become like this.

But why? Why?!

If Eva has someone else in mind, why raise her older sister to be so carefree? What are her inner conflicts and reasons?

She clutched her chest in sorrow, and strangely discovered that the pain from this poisoning was completely different from before.

Although it was all poisoned wine, this time the poisoned wine did not cause much pain after entering the throat, only a choking bitterness.

After she drank it, her limbs felt stiff and cold, but her throat was dry and no large amount of blood came out.

"Because... I don't have time, Eleanor."

Wang lowered his head, pressed his forehead against hers, and whispered, "Don't worry, I will too."

"Also what?" Eva didn't seem inclined to explain.

She simply hugged her daughter briefly, then withdrew her hand and looked at Mysera, who was wailing beside her.

Eva's gaze toward her other daughter was now empty.

"Didn't you want an army? I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"I don't want it anymore, I don't want it anymore... Please, please, Mother—save Lily!"

Don't say that... and don't cry like that.

Eleanor collapsed to the ground, feeling Myrcella embracing her tightly as she sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

No, Mysera.

Your answers are all wrong.

And my answer... is probably the same.

Eleanor clenched the pendant, letting the petals pierce her palm and take away her last warmth.