Princess's Struggle for Survival-Chapter 474: "I know everything now.”

As the eldest son of Duke Velmont, one of the Four Great Dukes of the Empire, Tristan, the exceptionally handsome and talented Earl, was undoubtedly a standout among the younger generation.

Whether due to aspirations of climbing the social ladder or simply admiration for the man himself, there were countless noble ladies within imperial circles who wished to marry him and become the future Duchess.

In the original novel, the villainess Princess Astrid Calliste relentlessly tormented Lyra precisely because of this man. Ultimately, she brought disaster upon herself. In a certain sense, Tristan was the primary reason Astrid resented Lyra, after all, whenever both were present, this handsome earl would unfailingly stand chivalrously by Lyra’s side, stoking the flames of jealousy burning within Astrid.

Of course, after awakening her memories from a past life, Astrid felt nothing for him. At most, she thought the duke’s son was diligent, intelligent, and a decent heir to a great family. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Why are you suddenly asking about him?" Astrid asked softly.

She had heard a similar question from another clumsy maid before. However, Lyra had a more girlish disposition, easily embarrassed, she could barely admit her own feelings, resorting to clumsy hints to hide her true heart.

Amalia, upon hearing this, gazed deeply at Astrid. Her pale blue eyes shimmered like rippling water. Her delicate white-stockinged ankle hooked over her black-stockinged calf as she spoke.

"Because I deeply care about my sister’s emotional affairs."

It was a concern born from the role of a younger sister, mixed with the curiosity of an admirer yearning for answers. These two emotions intertwined, prompting Amalia to ask this question.

Feeling the seriousness in the white-stockinged girl’s words, seeing those blue eyes fixed intently upon her, desperately seeking an answer, Astrid slightly narrowed her crimson eyes. As a warm touch brushed against her calf, that strange sensation buried deep within her heart from that night resurfaced.

After a brief pause, Astrid turned her head to gaze at the deep night scenery outside the window. Her fingertips lightly touched the back of Amalia’s hand.

"Now that I think about it, you’ve long reached the age where you should begin understanding these matters of love and affection."

According to the novel’s setting, the little tyrant sitting beside her would soon reach adulthood. Having passed the age of sixteen, what young girl wouldn’t yearn, wouldn’t feel curiosity toward the overflowing emotions in her chest?

Amalia only becoming curious now was actually rather late.

"I was about sixteen when I first met Tristan Velmont."

"As the emperor’s most favored princess at the time, whatever I desire, gems, silk, furs, beautiful dresses, or even novel magical devices, my father would do his utmost to provide. He wouldn’t hesitate even to mobilize craftsmen nationally for custom orders. Over time, my personality grew haughty and capricious. I believed everyone in the world should adore me, flatter me, and cater to me."

Back then, the Third Princess enjoyed the emperor’s favor, denied nothing in life, and was widely recognized as the empire’s most beautiful woman, with millions of admirers. Naturally, she held herself in high regard, believing no one could compare to her.

"But Tristan was different. During our first meeting, he acted cold and distant, seemingly completely immune to the charm of the empire’s jewel."

"This was the first time I ever experienced being ignored." 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Recalling these past events, Astrid felt no emotional fluctuation. Although these were real experiences that had happened to her, after awakening her memories, her past-life personality had taken dominance over her soul. Narrating felt like recounting a distant, bygone era, naturally, no sense of shame arose.

"So that’s why my sister was so fixed on him?" Amalia asked.

"Mmm." Astrid’s voice was soft as she watched moonlight settle on the windowsill, forming a flowing silver river.

"Just like the novel I serialized in the Empire Weekly, my first reaction back then was exactly the same as that wretched prince’s."

"Something along the lines of, Fine, your cold attitude has successfully caught my attention."

The young Astrid had been so arrogant. Seeing that Tristan’s eyes held none of the usual admiration displayed by other noble youths, instead carrying traces of disdain and even disgust, the silver-haired girl nearly lost control and exploded on the spot.

However, bound by noble etiquette, the original she didn’t lash out immediately. Instead, she began silently observing Tristan·Velmont.

"After learning a bit about Earl Tristan, knowing he was the top among the younger generation and the future heir of the Velmont family, I decided I wanted someone like him to fall for me, to become hopelessly devoted, declaring he would marry no one but me."

"Just like a child encountering a novel, fascinating toy, desperate to claim it as their own, reluctant to let anyone else touch it."

This tendency was especially pronounced in the already spoiled Third Princess, which was exactly why Lyra had been targeted from the moment she arrived in the capital.

"On top of that, fueled by baseless vanity and a competitive spirit, I was determined to make Tristan fall madly in love with me, turning this imperial prodigy into another captive of the princess."

"And thus, the subsequent events unfolded."

Tristan naturally disliked empty-headed beauties and despised the spoiled, haughty behavior of princesses. He deliberately avoided the Third Princess. Astrid’s attempts at affection failed, instead pushing him further away through her various maneuvers, eventually turning it into an obsession.

Hearing Astrid speak thus, a flicker of something unreadable, almost like relief, passed through Amalia’s eyes. She pulled Astrid’s hand gently and spoke.

"So that means... Sister never truly loved him from beginning to end?"

Astrid nodded slightly, giving a clear affirmation.

"Mm."

If she had truly loved Earl Tristan, she wouldn’t have felt not even a trace of lingering attachment after her memories awakened. During their negotiations, she remained perfectly calm throughout, as though the person sitting across from her conducting business was a complete stranger.

"Looking back now, my feelings toward Tristan·Velmont back then was merely childish competitiveness, I simply wanted the one who kept his distance to become just another one of my millions of suitors."

Astrid crossed her legs, speaking softly. Her gentle voice blended with the moonlight, as if it could flow directly into Amalia’s heart.

"As if doing so would prove my charm was unmatched by anyone."

Outwardly proud and reckless, seemingly uncaring of others’ feelings, yet inwardly deeply concerned about what others thought of her, immature, naive. But it was exactly these unchecked beliefs that led to a series of tragedies later on, even causing the fated heroine Lyra, who loathed taking lives, to hate her with every fiber of her being.

This feeling wasn’t love, not even close to affection. It was merely a desire to satisfy her possessiveness and competitive pride.

Amalia remained silent for a long while after hearing this. The heaviness that had clogged her heart finally dissolved. Beneath her delicate features, a tide of complex emotions surged.

"I see..."

Sister had never loved Tristan at all.

A surge of secret delight welled up within her, like a punctured balloon steadily releasing air. Before Astrid could confirm Amalia’s true motive for asking, the golden-haired girl clinging to her leg spoke again.

"If Sister didn’t eat enough at dinner, let’s go next door."

"I’ve had plenty of food prepared, enough for two."

Astrid glanced at Amalia’s leg pressed against her own.

Once again feeling a slight oddness at Amalia’s display of intimacy, Astrid thought for a few seconds before replying.

"Alright, let’s go then."

Amalia had surely brought her here for more than just this conversation. If she were merely curious about Astrid’s romantic affairs, they could have chatted about it any night, lying in bed after a bath.

And doing so wouldn’t have felt as deliberate as tonight, almost as if Amalia was trying to tell her something, as if certain things she shouldn’t have overlooked were finally clicking into place.

Receiving Astrid’s answer, Amalia blinked. With a shift of will, the Imperial Scepter resting by the bed slipped into her palm.

The two moved next door, to the room where Livia Valeria once rested. The dust here had also been cleaned away. Tables and chairs were neatly arranged. Food items were also arranged.

Astrid paused, taken aback. Her gaze dropped. The plates held sliced mushrooms, potatoes, cabbages, pre-cut beef and mutton, as well as some poultry and eggs.

This spread wasn’t inferior at all to what they used to eat in the old castle.

"I remember my sister used to take me eating like this."

As she spoke, Amalia snapped her fingers. The surrounding candles lit up one by one, just like that day when she and Anno met in the dim corridor.

Warm light fell upon their cheeks, adding a layer of coziness to the already peaceful atmosphere. The solidified base melted into the water, floating with specks of oil bubbles.

Besides garlic, ginger, and chili, the air also carried a hint of milky fragrance, likely due to Amalia’s instructions to the cooks to add milk into the broth for flavor.

"It’s been four years already."

Sniffing the increasingly rich aroma in the air, Amalia continued.

"I still remember the first time I ate this, I was amazed by this unique way of dining."

"From childhood until then, I’d had meals with another person."

Astrid had given her so many firsts, novel ways of eating, and that familial care and affection.

Hearing this, Astrid seemed to recall those times as well. Her tone softened further.

"Back then, Amalia was a bit slimmer than you are now."

If holding Amalia now feels soft and warm, four years ago in the castle, this cool and aloof little girl had felt delicate and thin, her small frame clearly noticeable when held while sleeping.

"Mmm." Amalia nodded, her eyes glimmering with nostalgia.

"Back then, I was picky about food and didn’t care about my health. I ate when I wanted, skipped meals when I didn’t."

After all, her father had wished for her to die in that castle, and no one had ever truly loved her.

Until Livia Valeria appeared.

Astrid frowned slightly at this, but seeing the relatively healthy Amalia before her now, her brows relaxed again.

"That’s why I wanted to give Amalia extra meals."

"Children are in their growing years. Poor nutrition can lead to serious consequences."

Although by today’s standards, Amalia still had a petite, underdeveloped little girl’s physique, she felt far healthier to Astrid than she had in the castle days.

Nurturing a sapling requires both emotional love and material nourishment. Only by attending to both could one be considered whole.

Amalia’s heart warmed at these words. She pressed her lips together and said, "I know, Sister."

It was exactly these small, thoughtful gestures that made her feel truly enveloped in Astrid’s love.

Distracted by actions of starting to eat, Astrid missed the opportunity to ask why Amalia cared so much about her romantic affairs, why she chose today to revisit the castle, and why she hadn’t told her before.

Tonight, Amalia was acting strangely in every way.

The red meat slices cooked perfectly. The golden-haired girl mixed some tomato and barbecue sauce into her bowl, creating her favorite sweet-and-sour flavor. After tasting to confirm it was cooked, she lifted her chopsticks and skillfully transferred a piece of meat from her bowl into Astrid’s bowl.

"Sister, eat too."

The last time someone did this, it was Astrid serving Amalia. Now, roles reversed, this steaming scene gained an extra layer of dreamy disorientation.

Astrid took a small bite. The taste of the dinner was excellent, spicy but not harsh, numbing but not sharp, with a rich milky aroma, the texture incredibly smooth.

Watching Astrid’s lips glisten with sauce, Amalia gradually straightened her leg beneath the table. The struggle in her eyes disappeared, replaced by resolution and clarity.

They continued eating and talking, reminiscing about the beautiful memories that once belonged only to them. They drank some grape juice. After a while, during a pause as more meat was added to the pot, Amalia spoke softly.

"Sister..."

"I know everything now."

Astrid’s eyelashes trembled slightly. She lifted her gaze to meet the white-stockinged girl across from her.

Amalia didn’t avert her eyes. Her voice remains gentle.

"Your answer to that man... about why you brought me out."