Princess's Struggle for Survival-Chapter 156: I should feel rage.

"I need… some time alone…"

Amalia didn't explicitly ask Astrid to leave, but her words carried the same weight as a dismissal.

Hearing this, Astrid hesitated for a moment before finally turning around, her voice gentle.

"I understand. Miss Amalia should also rest early. Staying up too late harms the body."

After saying so much, it was time to give Amalia some space to process everything.

As the sharp click of high heels echoed, Amalia stood in place, not bothering to see Astrid out.

Only when the bedroom door closed and the footsteps faded did she finally close her eyes, her back sliding down the wall until she sat on the floor, one leg stretched out while the other bent slightly at the knee, resting beside her hip.

A persistent ringing filled her ears, and as her hand brushed against her skirt, the once-smooth fabric now felt rough, the faint friction against her skin almost grating.

As if remembering something, Amalia reached for the necklace around her neck, intending to throw it away.

But once it was in her hand, a faint reluctance took hold. Staring at the blue gem for half a minute, she set the necklace aside, her slender legs closing together as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

The lingering scent of Astrid's perfume filled the air, different from Livia's faint, pleasant citrus aroma. Astrid's fragrance was colder, like a bouquet of long-lasting roses.

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Ever since discovering the truth about Astrid's hair, Amalia had become more sensitive to scents.

Sometimes, she could detect subtle changes in the fragrance on her bed, neither Livia's natural scent nor the soapy smell of a bath, but a rose-like aroma she rarely encountered.

Amalia had tried to convince herself that Livia simply used a unique perfume, one that initially smelled like a mix of mint and citrus but gradually turned into a colder rose scent over time.

But in reality, no such perfume existed. What she had been smelling all along was Astrid's natural scent.

"…Couldn't you have acted better?"

Amalia buried her head between her knees, her delicate nose pressed against her skirt, her shoulders trembling slightly as she tightened her grip.

Meanwhile, Astrid didn't return to her room. Instead, she stood quietly outside Amalia's door, her body just a few centimeters away from the handle.

Inside the bedroom, silence reigned. Amalia leaned against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees, listening to the rhythmic thumping of her heart.

After what felt like an eternity, she picked up the necklace beside her, struggled to her feet, and slowly walked to the bed.

As she neared the bed, her legs gave way, and Amalia collapsed onto the sheets. The softness beneath her was familiar, and the scent of Astrid's hair filled her nose, making the golden-haired girl's breath hitch as she bit her lower lip.

With a soft thud, her delicate little shoes fell to the floor, revealing her pale pink soles through the white stockings.

Amalia frowned, not bothering to change her dress or remove her stockings. She simply crawled into bed, curling up into a fetal position, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, Amalia."

Astrid's words echoed in the golden-haired girl's ears, her lips pressing together as her blue eyes filled with conflict.

The bed felt empty tonight, as if something was missing.

Usually, she would be hugging Livia, sharing warmth and breath, feeling the softness of her body and the fragrance of her hair.

Now, that was gone. And it would never return.

At this thought, the soft bed seemed to grow countless needles, pricking Amalia from all directions.

The golden-haired girl hugged her knees tightly, her hands slipping between her legs, as if trying to draw some semblance of warmth from herself.

She had eaten alone before, slept alone before. It wasn't a big deal.

But the warmth she felt from her legs didn't ease the frown on her face. Instead, it only deepened, as if something was fundamentally wrong.

Missing was missing. No matter how much she tried to deceive herself, the fact remained.

Amalia moved her fingers slightly, her hand shifting to the left but finding nothing to grasp.

If it were Livia, she would have responded warmly, letting Amalia wrap her arms around her waist, even allowing her to tuck her legs between her knees without complaint.

Finding nothing to hold, Amalia slowly uncurled her legs, then reached for the pillow she used to share with Livia, hugging it tightly.

The pillow was soft and fluffy, but it held no warmth and offered no physical feedback.

After getting used to hugging Livia, anything else felt awkward, especially something as lifeless and silent as a pillow.

Thinking of the gentle, golden-haired woman, Amalia's eyes lowered, the disappointment in her pupils almost tangible.

Livia had deceived her for so long. She should hate her, not feel this lost.

Her legs wrapped around the pillow, the friction between her stockings and the pillowcase making a faint sound. Amalia took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let the events of the night replay in her mind.

Under the bright moonlight, Livia's golden hair had faded, turning silver from the tips, while her blue eyes had transformed into a blood-like crimson.

Just as she had suspected, Livia was Astrid. The confirmation brought her no joy, not even the slightest hint of satisfaction.

Livia was a lie, a fabrication created by Astrid to deceive her.

Did she really want to shatter this illusion?

Opening her eyes, Amalia stared at the familiar ceiling, the dust floating in the air forming translucent beams of light under the moonlight.

Her gaze fell on the books neatly arranged on the desk, the easel and oil paints leaning against the wall, and the unopened bottles of grape juice. Almost everything in the room was connected to Livia.

Without Livia, she would have continued living a lonely, monotonous life, devoid of any pursuit or hope, mechanically waking and sleeping each day, never feeling the warmth or care of another.

All of that had been brought to her by Livia. And now, with the truth laid bare, all that false warmth would vanish in the face of reality.

From now on, she would have to walk alone again.

Her vision blurred, the silver moonlight becoming hazy, inadvertently reminding Amalia of that night, when Livia's figure had been obscured by the steam from the hot pot.

Perhaps she could try to reach out to her. Perhaps Livia was the light that had descended from the distant sky to save her.

"If I said I did all this to take care of you, would you believe me, Amalia?"

"Astrid has made many mistakes. She is neither a qualified princess nor a good sister. That's why I wanted someone to do what I couldn't."

"Amalia Valeria, I apologize for deceiving you."

Astrid Calliste, you may have fooled me once, but there won't be a second time.

Her fingers tangled in her hair, the veins on her pale wrists faintly visible as she clenched her fists. The trembling cat in the corner, Auri, cautiously crawled to the edge of the bed, sensing the tension in the air.

Though she didn't understand what was happening, Auri could feel that something was wrong. Without meowing, she simply leaned against the bed, her tail swaying gently.

Seeing Auri, Amalia immediately scooped the orange cat into her arms, though her expression remained unchanged.

Without Livia, she still had Auri.

Auri wouldn't deceive her. Auri had always been there.

Feeling the cat's warmth in her arms, Amalia lowered her gaze, staring at the wooden cat bed in the corner, her eyes dark.

She remembered that even Auri's bed had been arranged by Livia, along with the cat food.

Livia's presence seemed to be everywhere.

After five minutes, Amalia sat up, as if defying Astrid's earlier advice. She didn't put on her slippers, instead stepping barefoot onto the cold floor, her white-stockinged feet making soft sounds as she walked to the door.

Outside, Astrid heard the footsteps but didn't leave. She simply shifted slightly to make room for Amalia to pass.

But Amalia didn't open the door. She stood in front of it for a moment, followed by a short, sharp metallic clinking sound.

Astrid's brows furrowed as she recognized the sound. It was the same one Amalia had made during their first meeting.

It was the sound of a door bolt being slid into place.

---The next morning at 6:20, Amalia, who hadn't slept all night, unlocked the door and stepped out to the bathroom across the hall to wash up.

By this time, Astrid should have already left. Throughout the night, the princess hadn't left any notes, nor had she closed the door to her own room.

Not receiving the emotional outburst she had expected, perhaps Astrid had found no amusement in the situation and would never return.

Amalia held a damp towel, gently wiping her face in the mirror, but her heart felt as if it had been pricked by something sharp, a faint ache spreading through her chest.

Like a ghost in a castle, Livia had appeared suddenly and disappeared just as abruptly. Everything had been predetermined, and in the end, she would have to live alone, just as she had for so many years.

After washing her face, Amalia went downstairs to fetch her breakfast tray. As she returned to the fourth floor, she glanced at the room next door. Livia's room was empty, the furniture still in place.

It wouldn't be long before everything was taken away.

Closing the door, Amalia sat at her desk, reaching out to pet Auri's head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.

Livia was Astrid, after all. With the princess's personality, these things didn't matter. She'd probably just leave them there, too lazy to clean up.

Unconsciously thinking of her again, Amalia took a deep breath and picked up her fork to eat breakfast.

The more she appeared vulnerable, the more it would please someone.

Today's breakfast wasn't bad. There was her favorite apple pudding, along with bacon, fried eggs, and a roasted tomato.

She ate slowly, feeding Auri a bit of meat, and didn't finish until a little past seven.

Staring at the remaining roasted tomato, Amalia froze, suddenly remembering a detail she had overlooked.

Livia knew her taste preferences.

It was only after meeting her that her meals had started to become more enjoyable.