I stared, transfixed, as Mathias fussed over Jasmine, their hushed conversation a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the room. The ethereal screen flickered in my peripheral vision, its words searing themselves into my mind.
"Second wife?" I whispered, the words tasting like ash. The plot was coldly efficient, using my death to pave the way for my husband and his first love.
A wave of nausea washed over me; the thought of Mathias and Jasmine, together, in my home, after my death, was nauseating. The screen didn't just predict it; it was orchestrating it. My supposed happiness, the life meticulously built, was nothing more than a temporary prop in a larger drama.
“Gracia, please heal her,” Mathias pleaded, his voice a desperate plea cutting through the swirling turmoil within me.
Before becoming the Great General's wife, I was a celebrated mage, capable of healing magic beyond compare. But the secret, the horrifying secret, burned in my chest: I had no mana left. The plot was silent on that detail, but the knowledge was a dagger twisting in my gut. Forcing the magic would be suicidal.
“I can’t perform magic anymore,” I stated, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. He didn't believe me, his frustration evident in the sharp rise of his voice.
"Gracia! Don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment! Her life is in danger! I’ll explain everything later," his desperation was palpable, but a bitter smile stretched my lips.
“I can’t. I truly have no mana left. Because…” I trailed off, glancing at Dana and Josh, my heart aching – they couldn’t bear this burden.
"Mommy, I heard in the city you're the strongest magician after the Tower Master. Mommy, please help her," Josh's innocent face was a mirror of his desperate plea.
"Mommy, you always said we must help others," Dana said, her voice thick with worry.
I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, suppressing the rage clawing at me. "Okay, I'll help. Leave us alone in the room," I whispered, the words a suffocating weight.
Before they left, Mathias's hand enveloped mine, his touch desperate, pleading.
"I'll explain everything later, I promise." His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were haunted with a pain I couldn't begin to comprehend.
Alone with Jasmine, I fought to regain control, the fury threatening to consume me. I stared down at the unconscious woman. “You said you were jealous of my life; you took my place, my family, my life. I tried, I really tried not to believe this plot, but your actions, mirroring its every detail, have forced my hand!” I roared, slamming my fist against the vanity table, the exquisite wood splintering under the force of my anger. Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of anguish and bitter resentment.
“If I told you I envied you, would you change this predetermined path?” I challenged the screen above. It remained silent, impassive.
With a guttural cry, I seized a dagger, the cold steel a chilling comfort against the fiery rage consuming me. A swift stroke across my palm yielded a stream of blood, the crimson tide a sacrifice to the cruel magic. I used it to draw a complex magic circle on the floor, the crimson symbols glowing faintly under the soft light of the room. This was my last resort. More blood, more power, at the cost of my lifespan. Now the cost truly was my life.
“Art of Magic: Blood Healing Magic,” I chanted, the words echoing with pain and fierce determination. The circle pulsed, radiating a crimson light. A blood crystal formed, pulsating with raw magical energy before shooting towards Jasmine; her skin smoothed, her wounds vanished in seconds.
But the price exacted its cruel toll on me. The forbidden magic unleashed a wave of horrifying agony, triggering relentless seizures. I gagged, a blood-soaked cloth hastily pressed to my mouth to muffle my agonized cries. My body felt as though it was being ripped apart, skin peeling away, lifeblood draining, flesh dissolving. Each breath was a knife twisting in my chest.
“Why? Why must I suffer for you? Is this the life you so desperately envied? Couldn't you have settled for a ‘second choice’ without all this pain?” The hateful thoughts, a bitter counterpoint to the racking agony, tore at me.
My gaze snagged on the screen, on the words that haunted me: second choice. It hit me with the force of a physical blow. I had a second choice, too. I could change my destiny, the same way she had tried to change hers. This pain was mine, my sacrifice to control my future.
“I won't let you steal what is mine,” I whispered, my gaze locked onto Jasmine's still form, my resolve solidifying into ice.
When I opened the door, Mathias’ first question hung in the air heavy with concern. "Is she alright?”
“She’s stable. She needs rest,” I replied, turning to leave. He blocked my path, his eyes searching mine.
"I need to explain," he said, his voice edged with urgency.
"I'm not angry because you brought a woman here—I’m not jealous of her. I’m furious because you don’t seem to understand what matters most and what should be your priority. For four years, Mathias, I have been your wife. And I must say, it’s my regret that I didn't realize sooner that you didn’t care for me or our children. You sacrifice everything for the empire, but what about us? Do you even have a family, or are you just a hero?" The anger finally released, my voice filled with a burning resentment—the anger of a betrayed woman, a scorned wife, fueled by the cold cruelty of her own sacrifice. He pulled me into his arms, the embrace as cold and hollow as I expected it would be.
"Gracia, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was neglecting my family. Please, give me a chance," he pleaded, tightening his embrace.
"Don't just say it, do it," I countered, pulling away from him. I retreated to the greenhouse, needing a moment to collect myself. I didn't want to appear weak or emotional in front of my children, so I couldn’t have Jasmine sleeping in the guest room.
I’d only been resting for a few minutes when my eyelids grew heavy. I drifted off to sleep, unaware of the time passing. I woke up in the middle of the night, realizing that no one had come to check on me.
I headed to my room, intending to rest, but as I reached the door, I heard laughter. Dana and Josh were giggling with Jasmine.
Realizing the late hour, I pushed open the door. "M-Madam?" Jasmine stood up to greet me, but Mathias stopped her.
"Lady Jasmine, you're a Marquisess. Your status is higher than ours," he explained.
I smiled, greeting her politely. "Right, Madam. And besides, when did it become a courtesy to call a married woman ‘Lady’? Can I consider myself Lady Gracia?” I asked, my eyes fixed on Mathias.
“Madam, I apologize, but I’m used to being called Lady in the camp. Everyone there, including Sir Mathias, calls me Lady,” Jasmine explained. For the children’s sake, I forced myself to remain calm.
"Dana, Josh, it’s late. Go back to your room. The nannies will help you get ready for bed," I instructed, urging the nannies to take the children out.
"Make amends? Is this how you make amends? You adjust their bedtime so you can spend time with them?" I questioned Mathias. He started to explain, but I cut him off.
"And Madam Jacksonville, as a married woman, it wouldn’t be good for your reputation to be alone with my husband…" I started, but she interrupted me.
"Madam, I apologize. I’m used to the camp. There are no rules there, so I’m comfortable being around Sir Mathias," she said, her tone nonchalant. My eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
"Madam Jacksonville, are you deliberately trying to provoke me?" I asked, my knuckles turning white as I clenched my fists.
I took a deep breath, studying her face, unable to decipher if she was innocent or simply oblivious.
"Madam Jacksonville, this isn’t a camp. This is the Riverlilies mansion. As Mathias’s wife, it’s my responsibility to care for my husband’s guests or FRIENDS. So, I’m informing you that I’ve prepared the GuestRoom," I said, forcing a smile.
She rose and started to leave, smiling at me, but then she stumbled. “Sorry, my legs are a little weak.”
"Nana (Head maid), please escort Marquisess Jacksonville to the GuestRoom," I instructed, but Mathias volunteered to carry Jasmine.
"No, I'll take her," he said, leaving without acknowledging me.
"Nana (Headmaid), in this situation, is it valid for me to be jealous?" I asked, but she didn’t answer. I let out an awkward laugh.
"Just kidding. Please check on the children and bring me a snack," I said.
I lay down on my bed and tried to read the plot. I hated how Jasmine compared her life to mine, even though I was dead in the plot. And I hated how Mathias was constantly with her, neglecting even the children.
I sighed. I realized that if I hadn’t read the plot, I wouldn’t have known the true meaning of a simple, happy family. For four years, I’d carried the weight of our family, convincing myself that everything was perfect, even without Mathias, because he was never truly present.
I looked at the door as a knock sounded. I assumed it was Nana, but it was Mathias.
"Gracia? Can we talk?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. I sat up, straightening my clothes.
"About Jasmine, please don’t misunderstand. The camp is full of knights and merchants. There’s often a lack of space in the tents, so gender isn’t always considered when it comes to sleeping arrangements. But nothing happened between us. In fact, I consider her a sister," he explained.
I remained silent, waiting for him to continue. He pulled me into a hug. "For four years, you’ve been on my mind, Gracia," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. But I didn’t hug him back.
"For four years, not a single letter. I relied on the newspapers to hear about you. Do you know how painful it was to be unknown as your wife? Did you even care?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes. He cupped my face, gently wiping away my tears.
He nodded, trying to calm me down. "The enemy was strong, and I couldn't afford to take my eyes off the battle. But I promise, I never looked at another woman. I always thought about you, dreamed about coming home to you," he explained, his voice filled with remorse. I glanced at the screen, my heart pounding.
I was starting to doubt my suspicions. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, a string of events that happened to align with the plot. Maybe I was being overly suspicious of my husband.
I couldn't help but blame myself, tears streaming down my face. "Mathias, I’m sorry..." I hugged him back, my tears flowing freely. He chuckled softly, stroking my hair.
"By the way, I bought you a ring," he said, changing the subject. He pulled a ring from his pocket. It was an antique ring with an emerald stone, unpolished, slightly worn, but with the potential to be beautiful. It was the first gift he’d given me since our wedding.
"It's beautiful, thank you. Why emerald? And I’m guessing you made it yourself at the smith? It’s a little rough," I said, smiling. He hesitated.
"Ah-h, y-yes, I made it myself," he mumbled.
"So, why emerald?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
I knew it was a trend for husbands to make accessories for their wives, often matching the color of their wives’ eyes. I had ash-gray eyes and dark blue hair – quite a contrast to emerald green.
"B-Because… you love plants. Even our mansion is located outside the city, near the forest and fields. S-So, emerald," he stammered, his cheeks flushing. I couldn't help but smile; I hadn’t realized how much he’d paid attention.
"I'll cherish it," I whispered, my heart warming.