Chapter 57: At Regina’s Home [2]

“R—Right away, Your Majesty!” She scrambled to her feet, hurrying back toward the kitchen without another word.

Ada instinctively gripped the edge of the mattress, struggling to sit up once more. “I must go and assist her—”

“There is no need for that,” Lumiel’s exasperated voice halted her in her tracks. “I presume Regina has been the one preparing your meals since you fell ill?”

Ada offered a slight, weak nod.

“We would usually prepare our meals together, but this past month has proven… complicated for me,” she said, guilt creeping in her hoarse voice.

“I can easily see that,” Lumiel replied, his gaze sweeping over her pallid complexion and frail physique.

He narrowed his eyes, examining her with a stare. “When exactly did this sickness begin?”

“I cannot say for certain, Your Majesty… but for a couple of months now, I have felt a terrible, lingering fatigue. It has only worsened over these past few weeks. I fear I simply overworked myself,” she replied, letting out a soft, rattling sigh.

“You can barely stand,” Lumiel pointed out.

“I believe it is merely a severe fever, Your Majesty. She should be perfectly fine with the proper treatment,” Regina chimed in, anxiously peeking her head out from the kitchen doorway.

Lumiel offered no reply to her optimism, instead pondered briefly.

’Chronic fatigue, drastic weight loss, and coughing as though she were about to hack up her own lungs. What are the odds this is consumption?’

He had never been a physician or a doctor in his past life, obviously, but that did not mean he was entirely ignorant of basic pathology. In Helios and the neighboring kingdoms, tuberculosis was a rampant scourge, especially among the impoverished masses who labored endlessly in squalor and could ill-afford proper medicine.

And in a medieval setting such as this, consumption was a notoriously fatal disease. While it did not boast a perfect mortality rate, a shocking majority of those afflicted inevitably wasted away and died.

“For how long have the two of you resided in the capital?” Lumiel asked, breaking his internal silence.

“Ten years, Your Majesty,” Ada replied softly.

“Ten years. Hmm,” Lumiel repeated, leaning back in his chair. “You must have been quite young when you first arrived with Regina. A former Baroness, stripped of all standing and reduced to such destitution, yet you managed to survive a decade in these slums.”

“We had some… assistance, Your Majesty,” she replied hesitantly.

“Even so, there are few trials in this world more agonizing than a disgraced, single mother attempting to raise her daughter alone in the worst streets of the city,” Lumiel said.

“It has been difficult, yes,” she nodded, a fragile, hollow smile forming on her lips.

“You are quite a strong woman, are you not?” Lumiel asked, a tinge of respect in his voice.

“I—I truly do not believe so, Your Majesty,” she denied, shaking her head sadly.

“Others might be too blind to notice, but I can clearly see that you have broken your back over these last ten years just to keep your daughter safe. Now I fully understand why Regina is so hardworking. She inherited that spirit directly from you, did she not?”

Ada’s bitter smile deepened. “My daughter has risen entirely on her own merit, Your Majesty. I had nothing to do with it… I have been nothing but a miserable failure as a parent. Even now, I am entirely reliant upon my own child, acting as a parasitic burden on her youth,” she confessed. Her voice choked with unshed emotion as she quickly lowered her head, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

In the adjoining kitchen, Regina remained completely silent. She wanted to rush in and vehemently deny her mother’s harsh words, to comfort her, but she did not dare raise her voice in the Lumiel’s presence.

She refused to let her composure crack in front of Lumiel.

Ada bit down hard on her trembling lip. “I… I simply feel as though I have sold her away,” she added, her tone breaking despite herself..

She was consumed by guilt over the mere fact that she had dragged Regina to the capital in the first place, foolishly believing they could carve out a decent life here.

Instead, she had been forced to watch her daughter, from the tender age of seven, scrub filthy laundry until her small hands bled. Just months prior to their exile, that same little girl had slept securely in a luxurious canopy bed within a sprawling mansion, listening to her mother read enchanting stories before drifting into a peaceful slumber.

Worse still, Ada had been forced to watch her daughter blossom into womanhood beneath the perverted, and twisted stares of the men rotting in the slums. She had been forced to swallow her maternal pride and tolerate men like Onark leering at her precious child every single day, entirely incapable of protecting her. The paralyzing fear of being cast out onto the freezing streets to suffer an even more gruesome fate had kept her utterly powerless.

She felt as though she had merely dragged her child into a different, far more worse nightmare. And now, she did not even know how Regina had miraculously managed to secure a position within the royal castle out of thin air.

She was not a foolish woman, she suspected dark truths, yet she did not dare to question her daughter. She was terrified to learn what Regina might have been forced to sacrifice to obtain such a role. Her silence felt like the real cowardice, only adding further weight to her endless lamentations.

“You are not a failure,” Lumiel said calmly, his voice slicing through her self-deprecating thoughts.

Ada raised her tearful gaze, her breath catching in her throat as she saw Lumiel drop to one knee directly beside her bed.

The mask of playful amusement he had worn since his arrival had vanished entirely, replaced by a serious expression. His golden-amber eyes flickered with quiet intensity as he reached out, gently pressing his hand against her pale, hollow cheek.

“Whereas your husband abandoned his family out of cowardice, wounded ego, and pathetic pride, you chose to swallow the world’s mockery and insults with your head held high. You took your little girl’s hand and remained by her side when she was terrified of the loss, of the night, and of the uncertain future. You gave her hope and warmth. You gave her strength and unconditional love when she felt entirely abandoned by her father.”

A faint smile spread across his lips.

“You have raised her wonderfully. She is highly educated, beautiful, and brimming with intelligence and charm. She inherited that stubbornness and the determination to march forward, entirely ignoring the vile remarks of lesser men. She learned how to survive, no matter how dire or pitch-black the future seemed, from no one else but you, her mother.”

He paused, his thumb gently brushing away the fresh tears spilling over her cheekbones.

“She owes you her entire life. Her current position, and everything she is doing to provide for you right now, is merely her way of returning a small fraction of the boundless love you have poured into her since the day you first carried her in your womb.”

He smiled warmly.

“You are far from being a failure, Ada. Rather, you must hold your head high. Be proud of the strong, independent woman you have raised, and rejoice in the fact that you protected her against the darkness for so long.”

Ada completely broke down into sobs wracking her fragile frame as she buried her tear-soaked face in her trembling hands. His heartfelt words struck the very core of her soul, simply having her decade of silent agony and sacrifice acknowledged by someone healed a wound she believed would never close.

Lumiel leaned forward, gathering her into a gentle, comforting embrace. He softly patted her frail back, allowing the broken mother to weep into his shoulder and release ten years of pent-up sorrow without uttering another word.

Regina, who had overheard every single word, leaned against the thin wooden screen separating the kitchen from the living area. Warm tears streamed down her own cheeks as she clamped both hands over her mouth to muffle her whimpers.

She had never, in all her years, seen or heard her mother break down and cry with such unguarded emotion.

Every words Lumiel had spoken resonated deep within Regina’s own heart. He was right; her mother was the only reason she had survived this long. Nothing Regina could have ever said would have delivered the perfect validation that Lumiel had just provided. She felt an unbelievable surge of gratitude toward him for offering her mother that release and acknowledgement.

“Unfortunately, the hour grows late,” Lumiel said gently after several long minutes, slowly untangling himself from the embrace and rising to his feet.

“Y—Your Majesty…” Ada’s voice cracked, trying to articulate her gratitude, but he raised a hand to silence her.

“I truly must return to the castle before the Queen Mother unleashes the entire Royal Guard to hunt for me,” he joked with a warm smile, pivoting toward the exit.

“Your Majesty!” Regina cried softly, stepping out from the shadows of the kitchen.

Lumiel paused, glancing over his shoulder as she wiped at her tear-stained face in a sudden rush of panic and shame.

Lumiel merely smiled at her.

“Enjoy your evening, Regina. Go and share that meal with your mother,” he said.

With one fluid motion, he pulled the hood over his head and slipped out into the night, gently pulling the rickety wooden door shut behind him. Regina reached out, wanting to stop him, to thank him properly, but the words caught completely in her throat.

Turning back, she locked eyes with her mother. Regina immediately collapsed to her knees beside the bed, throwing her arms around Ada in a desperate hug. She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, weeping freely without needing to say a single word.

Ada let out a watery, exhausted chuckle, tears still flowing freely as she returned the embrace, her frail fingers tenderly stroking her daughter’s hair.

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