Princess's Struggle for Survival-Chapter 56: Amalia

The quill in her hand moved gracefully, leaving light, elegant strokes on the parchment.

Once she had finished sketching the outline of the sunset, Amalia glanced at the wall clock.

It was six twenty-five, almost dinner time.

Remembering that today was the day of the transaction, she quickly set down her pen, changed into her shoes and socks, and descended the spiral staircase to the ground floor.

At the entrance of the castle, a young maid carrying a dinner plate in one hand and a crumpled leather bag in the other gazed at Amalia with an expression that was hard to read, somewhere between sadness and satisfaction.

Noticing the slightly bulging bag in the maid's hand, Amalia's eyes flickered with a faint light.

She touched the few gems left in her pocket and sighed inwardly.

Taking out a finger-sized green agate, its translucent dark green surface glowed with a mesmerizing luster in the setting sun.

The maid's expression shifted to one of barely concealed excitement as she saw it.

Amalia accepted the bag from the maid, carefully rummaged through it to ensure everything was in order, and then handed the agate to the woman.

The maid took the gem, bowed slightly, and her usually cold cheeks softened with a hint of respect.

"Thank you, Your Highness Amalia, for your generosity."

This single green agate could buy a plot of farmland in her hometown, and two of them could secure a large house.

Most servants in the palace considered delivering meals to the unfavored fourth princess, Amalia, a thankless task.

While serving Princess Astrid might come with occasional scoldings, the rewards were far more substantial and the work far more prestigious.

Only this maid knew just how profitable her arrangement with Amalia truly was.

A book, a pen, some oil paints for artwork, such simple items could be exchanged for a high-quality green agate.

What other trade could offer such immense profit?

As the maid set down the dinner plate and walked away with the agate in hand, she couldn't help but feel a smug satisfaction.

Once the maid left, Amalia picked up her bag and carried the dinner plate to her bedroom.

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Walking through the narrow corridor, she passed door after door marked with room numbers.

The sound of her slightly heeled princess shoes echoed crisply against the floor tiles, creating a rhythmic cadence.

Ascending to the sixth floor, she was met with an endless expanse of darkness.

The royal castle, with its hundreds of rooms, was home to only one resident: the fourth princess, Amalia Valeria, the least favored of Emperor Hibbort's children.

Amalia had lived here for eight years, since she was six.

It was a long time, enough to become familiar with every corner of the castle.

Yet, all she truly knew were the few rooms near her own and the spiral staircase she climbed and descended daily.

Standing at the top of the staircase, Amalia looked down at the winding steps beneath her feet.

Once again, she felt the urge to jump.

Her existence had never been blessed by anyone. If she died, no one would care.

Jump, a voice whispered in her heart.

But another voice quickly drowned it out.

You should take revenge on them. Take back everything that belongs to you.

The body receded from the edge of the air, and the momentary dizziness in her mind quickly disappeared.

Amalia walked into the room with a dinner plate and sat down at the table, picking up her fork.

Her dinner today consisted of fried fish, mashed potatoes, carrot pie, and a pea beef bisque.

Although she was not particularly favored, as a member of the royal family, Amalia's three meals a day were not skimped on; on the contrary, they were quite lavish.

The only downside was that high-status individuals like Princess Astrid and Prince Lucas could request any dish they desired for their meals, while Amalia, who lived in the castle, had no such luxury.

She ate whatever the chef prepared, and if she didn't like it, her only option was to leave it untouched.

Amalia didn't care for fish, and after years of eating the same dishes, she had grown tired of them.

She put down her fork, wiped her lips, and prepared to continue painting.

The maid had brought her enough oil paint materials this time to last more than half a month, so she didn't have to worry about running out anytime soon.

Amalia carefully placed the small box containing the oil paints in the drawer of her painting table, taking it out only when she needed it.

This way, she didn't have to worry about accidentally spilling it on the floor.

Stroke by stroke, the remaining twilight in her mind poured onto the canvas.

The blonde girl looked focused, her turquoise eyes fixed on the quill in her hand.

At 8:20 p.m., when Amalia finished the painting, she got up and went to the closet.

She took out a pure white silk nightdress, her eyes inadvertently falling on the richly decorated princess dress in the corner. Her pink lips pursed slightly.

The princess dress in the wardrobe was primarily white, with a thin pale pink belt at the waist and cascading pleats adorned with lace embellishments below.

But the most striking feature of the dress wasn't the silk fabric, it was the jewels used to decorate it.

Each gem was worth a fortune, though curiously, one side of the dress was covered in precious stones, while the other side was bare, devoid of any adornment.

Amalia looked at the princess dress and was silent for a moment.

Then she bent down, stretched out her slender, pale hand, and pried off a few of the gems, placing them on the bedside table.

Every gem here was a reward from her trades with the maid, and each one had to be carefully accounted for.

After taking a shower and changing into her nightdress, Amalia delivered her worn clothes and used cutlery to the door in two trips.

Someone would come early the next morning to collect and clean them, so she didn't have to worry about it.

She had just put down her plate and was about to go upstairs to read a book when she suddenly heard a sharp sound behind her.

"Meow~"

Turning her head, she saw an orange kitten lying on the plate, its tiny paws gently tugging at the leftover fried fish Amalia hadn't finished.

A cat? The blonde girl froze for a moment, her footsteps halting involuntarily.

The orange cat glanced up at her, and seeing that Amalia made no move to stop it, it stretched out its pink tongue and began to lick the fried fish.

Hidden in the shadows, Elise watched the interaction between the girl and the cat at the castle gate.

Her posture remained straight, her expression unchanging.

After a while, Elise noticed Amalia looking around.

Once she was sure no one was nearby, she crouched down and gently touched the orange cat's head.

When the fried fish on the plate was finished, Amalia hesitated for half a minute.

Seeing the cat meow twice as if preparing to leave, she bit her lip and gently picked it up, carrying it into the dimly lit castle under the moonlight.

------

Twenty minutes later, in Astrid's bedroom, the silver-haired princess listened to Elise's report. Lying on her bed, Astrid raised an eyebrow slightly, her tone calm.

"Well done, Elise."

For now, Amalia didn't seem like the militaristic, misanthropic tyrant described in the future books.

Astrid twirled a strand of silver hair around her fingertip, her pink lips whispering.

"Keep an eye on Amalia for the next few days. I need more accurate information."

The brief moment of tenderness didn't reveal much, and Astrid wanted to observe Amalia a little longer before deciding whether or not to make contact with her.

The thought of making contact with Amalia gave Astrid another headache. Not only did Amalia despise her as a high-spirited, wasteful sister, but the original Astrid had also provoked her repeatedly, saying many harsh and ugly things.

This wasn't difficult to understand.

After all, Astrid was an adopted princess. Even though Emperor Hibbort adored her, the lack of a strong blood bond left her with a lingering sense of insecurity.

In this context, Amalia, the illegitimate daughter of the Fourth Princess, had become an outlet for Astrid's negative emotions.

For years, Amalia had been a punching bag for Astrid's frustrations.

Direct contact now would likely only deepen the animosity between them, and their encounters would undoubtedly be tense.

After sending Elise back to rest, Astrid lay alone in her room, silently pondering how to gain Amalia's trust, assuming Amalia hadn't completely succumbed to darkness.

Compared to the naive and sweet heroine Lyra, Amalia, who had experienced the harsh realities of the world, was far more challenging to approach.

Winning her over would be an even greater struggle.

Once again, Astrid realized just how daunting it was to "clean the slate" of her past actions.