chapter 21

Back to Sixteen-Year-Old Irene…

Irene was crying—crying with a painful sob that tore through the silence around her. Beside her, her maid Sally also wept, as if grief had stormed into both their hearts at once.

Fantine, weighed down by guilt and remorse, told her everything she knew… all she had kept hidden in her heart over the years, all that she had tried to bury.

When she finished speaking, she fell to her knees, pressed her forehead to the ground, and began to sob uncontrollably, repeating in a choked voice:

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I failed to raise my only daughter well… It's all my fault…"

At that, Irene stopped crying. She approached her, leaned down, and embraced her from above—holding her tightly as if shielding her from her own cruel words. She said with a trembling voice:

"How can you say it's your fault? If it weren't for you, my mother wouldn't have been able to escape. I always wanted to know who Fantine was… I wondered for all those years… and now, you're standing in front of me.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Fantine… You can't imagine how much I loved you, how I wished to speak to you…

So you're the Fantine… the one who saved us all…

You gave my mother a chance to escape, and gave me a life and a childhood—even if short-lived.

And now, you're the reason I've managed to stand on my feet again. You don't understand… but in my eyes—and theirs—you're an angel."

Fantine responded, "No… I'm not the angel. You are… and your pure mother…

All she ever wanted was to help her family… Irene, my daughter, your mother is innocent. Never believe anyone who says otherwise… I…"

She couldn't go on. Her tears said everything her words couldn't.

Irene said, "I know… Fantine, please, don't cry… don't apologize… you did nothing wrong.

It's all because of that man… everything is his fault."

She then raised her eyes toward the sky, as if speaking to the spirit of her mother:

"Mother… my dearest mother… did you go through all this?

Every time you hit me, I used to hate you, never understanding why…

But now… I see that you did it all for me.

I'm sorry, Mother… sorry for not understanding sooner."

Sally, who had heard everything, remained in her place.

She said with a wounded voice, "I understand now… She wasn't the reason… It was all of us."

Irene looked at her gently. Sally raised her eyes and said, "Miss Irene, I'm sorry…"

She cried a little, then added,

"When I was ordered to care for and watch you personally, I hated you so much. I hated everything around you.

I kept saying to myself: why do I have to look after the daughter of tainted blood?

But now I've come to fully realize… I was the tainted one. I was the disgrace."

Irene approached her and hugged her, saying:

"Never… I was never angry with you.

You always looked after me, protected me…

You can't imagine how grateful I am to you."

"Yes… I lost my mother… and my gentle grandparents… I lost everything.

But in return… I gained two mothers instead of one.

Thank you… both of you."

Both Fantine and Sally looked at Irene with warmth in their eyes.

Something blossomed in each of their hearts.

That evening, Irene felt—for the first time—that she had her own little family.

And that night… for the first time in years, Irene slept peacefully.

In her dream, she saw her mother's smiling face, her arms wrapping around her gently, her voice whispering in her ear:

"You are the most precious thing I have… you were the reason I endured and stayed alive."

It was the first true memory Irene ever recovered of her mother since her death.

And when she woke up the next morning, she broke into tears—sobbing deeply.

But her heart… had changed.

At that moment, she made a vow… to take revenge.

Yes… behind all the wreckage of this life, buried beneath the ashes of memory… stood Irene.

She began studying with fierce determination. She learned fast—so fast it startled those around her.

She asked a guard to deliver a message to the king, requesting permission to study politics and history in the royal library.

When Arxson read the message, he let out a victorious laugh, then said to himself:

"You've finally decided to leave your nest, have you?

I knew you'd become useful eventually…

My precious Louisa's daughter… In the end, keeping you was the right call."

He ordered her transfer to the palace and for a room to be prepared—one fit for the mission he had long imagined for her.

She began to learn—rigidly—the foundations of royalty, the principles of language and politics.

She spent most of her time in the library.

And the more she read, the more she learned how corrupt her father and grandfather were—rotten to the core.

All they cared about was absolute power and wealth.

They took what they wanted, no matter how many lives it cost.

In truth, life meant nothing to them.

Irene made a promise to herself… that she would hold that man accountable for everything he did—no matter the cost.

For her mother, for her mother's soul, for the innocents, and for her own stolen dignity—

She would dedicate what remained of her life to this cause.

She began outlining her path. Her goal had become far greater—it now required a flawless plan.

And at the center of that plan stood one crucial necessity: freedom of movement—which meant one thing:

Marriage.

To a man of power… one who didn't care about his wife.

So she started researching.

She compiled a list of names of all potential candidates who could fit her scheme.

And waited… for the perfect moment to cast her bait.

---

Over the next three years, Irene suffered abuse from everyone.

The servants.

The guards.

And especially her half-siblings.

Many of them had married and moved on, yet each had left a scar in her heart in their own way.

After the marriage of the two sons of the first queen—Crown Prince Reynold and Elyan—they remained in the palace, now joined by their two malicious wives, who brought an added layer of venom.

On another front were Adeline and Selina—the most poisonous of all.

Though they despised each other, they formed a hateful alliance against Irene under one banner:

"The enemy of your enemy… is your friend."

Even, the one who hated her the most, never missed a chance to torment her.

He would hit her whenever the opportunity arose, knowing no one would defend her.

He thrived on her weakness.

The only person who treated her with decency was Dimitri.

He always defended her—always stopped the others from bullying her.

He was the only righteous soul among her nine brothers.

Irene respected him… but never got close.

She trusted no one in that corrupted palace.

She only watched from afar—recording every detail in her mind.

And every day, her resolve to get revenge deepened.

She felt like she was standing alone… against an entire army.

Even Fantine and Sally weren't by her side anymore.

The royal family only accepted handpicked servants—loyal to the throne.

Irene was alone in that battle.

---

Back to the Present…

Irene sat in a corner of the room, her body stiff as stone.

Hands resting on her knees, eyes frozen in a daze.

Silence filled the room—but inside her, a storm raged, ripping apart every last shred of composure.

Every moment of her past flashed before her eyes…

Every slap.

Every scornful glance.

Every silent tear.

Even the massacre of her parents—

And the scream she let out that day… a scream still echoing in her ears.

But—as she always had—she cut off the memory with a steady gaze and whispered to herself, as she had done countless times before:

"This is not the time to break.

This is the time to attack.

And this pain?

It's nothing compared to what I've endured my whole life."

She stood up slowly.

Her body ached with every step.

Her legs heavy, shoulders tense.

And the mark on her neck still burned, as if it were branded by fire.

She entered the bathroom, turned on the cold tap, and washed her face thoroughly—

Hoping the water would wash away the remnants of her tears.

Then she looked up at her reflection in the mirror.

She stared at herself—at those tired eyes.

Then at her swollen neck.

She smirked bitterly and said:

"You'll pay for this… with your neck—for daring to touch mine."

She let out a short laugh—real, though brief.

She didn't regret the words she had thrown at him.

In fact, she felt she had finally launched a sharp arrow into the heart of the beast—

An arrow that made him erupt like a volcano and reveal the fragility beneath his throne of power.

She lightly knocked on the door afterward and requested some ointment and painkillers.

Long minutes passed.

Then the door flung open.

A box and the ointment were thrown harshly onto the floor.

The door slammed shut again before she could utter a word.

She stood silently, staring at the scattered items. Then, with ice in her voice, muttered:

"Pathetic display of pity."

She knelt down calmly, picked up the pills and ointment, took the prescribed dose, and sat on the nearby couch, sipping a bit of water from a ceramic cup.

Though pain gnawed at her body… she wouldn't let it stop her.

She opened a new book—one on the history of alliances between the Three Kingdoms—and began reading carefully.

She jotted down notes on small scraps of paper, hiding them between old magazines, tying them together with a thin red thread she had crafted herself.

Every bit of information, every name, every incident… was a piece of the puzzle.

She knew time was running out—

And her next move had to be precise.

But she wasn't backing down.

If anything, the pain… the rage… the loneliness—

Had become her fuel.

The fuel of a woman born from ashes—rising again…

To crush every soul who ever thought she was just a shadow.

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