A Queen’s Fierce Defense

Ophelia flushed with embarrassment, but the nobles opposite her, clearly seasoned by life’s tempests, merely exchanged silent glances before one of them cleared their throat.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” he intoned, executing a bow that exuded an elegant nobility, much like those depicted in period dramas.

“We have already been apprised of Emily’s situation,” he continued. “Is it true that Your Majesty wishes to take Emily into your personal care?”

Ophelia had yet to fully recover from her initial embarrassment.

Yet, the polite, restrained chill in the man’s eyes made Ophelia feel an overwhelming pressure; she averted her gaze, offering a hesitant nod.

“Ah, so that’s the case,” he remarked, his tone unwavering. “It was quite a bother for you to come all this way. A simple messenger would have sufficed; there was no need for such an elaborate visit.”

His gaze then drifted towards Emily.

“After all, a broken engagement is a stain upon my family’s honor. She is merely a discarded piece (TL Note: A strategic term from the game of Go, referring to a sacrificial stone; here, it implies someone abandoned or deemed worthless), and it is fortunate if she can still be of some use to you.”

“One might call it making use of the discarded, I suppose.”

Ophelia’s eyes widened in disbelief upon hearing his words.

She stared at the man before her, struck by the utter normalcy of his expression and the self-evident conviction in his tone, as if his pronouncements were divine truths. Around them, the other nobles offered gazes of silent assent.

Her gaze then shifted back to Emily.

Emily, her eyes red-rimmed, actively avoided the man’s gaze, once again stifling her tears as she stood ramrod straight.

Ophelia felt a surge of emotion once more (TL Note: ‘上头’ (shàngtóu) is a slang term often used to describe getting emotional, overwhelmed, or hyped up).

She inwardly urged herself to calm down, yet the composure eluded her. Her mind replayed the myriad hardships Emily had endured in the novel, contrasting them sharply with the frigid stare of the very man who was, by blood, her kin.

She yearned to shout, “She is no discarded piece!” much like the heroes in countless anime series, but Ophelia found herself lacking the courage. The words churned within her, a tempest of indignation, yet ultimately, they condensed into a single, meek utterance: “Then I am truly grateful.”

The man across from her responded with a polite yet chilling formality, “You overstate the matter, Your Majesty. It is we who should be thanking you.”

‘Is that truly all?’

‘A bitter taste of reluctance filled her.’

‘Could it truly end with such a feeble, “Then I am truly grateful”? Was she to abandon the girl behind her, who yearned so desperately for affirmation? Would she ever be able to mentor Emily with a truly clear conscience if she did?’

Her words caught in her throat.

Ultimately, they dissolved into a torrent of emotion.

Though she dared not be overly forceful, Ophelia felt an undeniable conviction that Emily needed affirmation—a sentiment born purely from her immersion in the novel’s narrative. Her everyday fantasies now crystallized into immediate action, and in that fleeting moment, she once again conquered her social anxiety.

Her formerly meek words now began to gather strength.

“I assure you, I am not overstating the matter,” Ophelia declared, her voice firm. “Emily is an exceptionally gifted young woman. She possesses not only prodigious talent and aristocratic grace, but also a diligence that few can rival. I would never willingly relinquish such a girl to another, and I am truly delighted that you are so readily willing to entrust her to my care.”

The man’s composed expression visibly faltered for a moment.

“But Emily’s engagement has, after all, been rescinded.”

“What does a rescinded engagement matter?” Ophelia retorted, her voice rising. “It does nothing to diminish Emily’s talent and diligence! Furthermore, you were present at the event; have you truly failed to recognize that Emily bears no fault whatsoever? Her counsel to Prince Eli was entirely appropriate. She is no burden, but a peerless national treasure (TL Note: ‘国士无双’ (guóshìwúshuāng) is a Chinese idiom describing an unparalleled individual, a national hero, or someone of peerless talent).”

Ophelia unleashed her full rhetorical force without mercy, feeling a profound satisfaction in her vehement rebuttal. Surely, everyone present would now perceive her as fiercely formidable, wouldn’t they?

“A woman whose engagement is cast aside is deemed to have lost her purpose; such has been the tradition since antiquity,” the man replied, his tone final.

A flicker of struggle crossed the man’s eyes, yet he ultimately reiterated his stance.

Ophelia simply shook her head.

Before everyone present, she clasped Emily’s hand, then offered them a resolute bow.

“Having said all that needs to be said, I will cherish Emily. Thank you all.”

“How can the very meaning of a life be negated by one absurd engagement? Just because it has always been so, does that make it right?”

With her head held high and chest thrust forward, Ophelia felt utterly magnificent! She led Emily by the hand, walking towards the bright sunlight that streamed from outside.

****

A tempest raged within Emily’s heart at that moment.

She simply stared, wide-eyed, at the Queen before her.

As a noble daughter, she had navigated social circles for years, and the most refined of her skills was the art of reading people. Someone like Ophelia, who seemed as transparent as a blank page, she could discern at a single glance.

Ophelia’s initially meek reply of “Then I am truly grateful” had neither surprised nor disappointed her.

What she had not anticipated, however, was Ophelia speaking up for her so vehemently, and before everyone present.

If asked whether it held any practical significance, she would undoubtedly say no; there was, after all, no logical reason for the Queen to sour relations with powerful nobles over a mere ‘discarded piece’.

Yet, a profound warmth bloomed in her heart.

Being a noble daughter was, in her opinion, no blessing at all. She had always believed this, forced to wear the mask of “noble lady” and meticulously portray a flawless image without the slightest deviation.

A girl, forbidden to weep, forbidden to play, forbidden to rest.

She had crumbled multiple times, yet always found a way to reconcile with herself, ultimately swallowing all the pain, the coldness, and the loneliness on her own.

She had departed.

An absurd farce had shattered her very sense of self, but now, a gentle soul had carefully gathered her fragments and begun to mend them. For Emily’s sake, Ophelia was willing to defy her own nature and instincts, and in doing so, she had brought Emily into the light.

Suddenly, she paused, then turned to look back.

The grand house that had once imprisoned her now felt strangely distant, no longer a cage.

“Emily? Did you leave anything behind?” Ophelia asked, her voice soft. “I can have someone collect it later and send it to my residence.”

Ophelia.

Once merely the Queen to all, Ophelia was now, and forevermore, *her* Queen. Ophelia gazed at her with an encompassing tenderness, as if capable of embracing every facet of her being.

A sense of unreality washed over Emily.

“Ophelia, are you truly a dream?” she whispered, the question escaping her lips unbidden.

Ophelia met those bewildered eyes, her heart aching anew. She pulled Emily into a tender embrace, echoing the very words a male protagonist might utter in a novel.

“Can you feel my warmth, Emily?”

“I am as real as the warmth you feel. I am reality. From this day forward, you may weep to me, you may vent your frustrations to me, and it is perfectly acceptable to seek comfort in my embrace. I wish to be your confidante, a friend with whom you can share everything.”

“You’ve striven alone for so long, until this very day. You must be exhausted.”

[The nurturing value instantly soared to 95.]

Ophelia gasped in surprise, a thrill akin to winning the lottery coursing through her. A pang of regret soon followed, however, as it became clear that her mission was rapidly approaching its conclusion.

Both heroines now boasted nurturing values in the nineties; it truly seemed her journey was nearing its end.

Her chest grew damp.

Emily wept openly, her sobs wracking her frame.

Ophelia stood still, allowing Emily to sob freely in her embrace. A sudden dizziness washed over her, and in her periphery, she caught a fleeting glimpse of gold, sparkling like a mirage.

At the far end of the path, a small girl stood.

She was utterly filthy, as if she hadn’t bathed in days, her emerald eyes dull and sickly, her golden hair hanging in matted strands.

She watched Ophelia.

Ophelia stood bathed in the sunlight, a radiance the little girl, despite her outstretched hand, could not reach. Though she was nothing more than a grimy, beggar-like child, a faint smile played on her lips.

“Ophelia…”

“You’re coming to rescue me soon, aren’t you? Oh, or as you would say, to ‘nurture’ me.”

“Ah, Ophelia, my angel, my panacea—”

“For you, I shall no longer be so weak. I will compel glory to bow before me, and then, I shall don the crown.”

“Ophelia, my Queen, I shall possess your beauty wholly.”