The Regressed Princess - Chapter 77

Chapter 77: Only Wishing to Sink — She Saw Andra’s Eyes Burning Like a Conflagration…

The sea… Eleanor looked up under the moonlight, gazing at the profile of her lover’s upturned lips.

Thump!

A stone struck the tranquil lake of her heart, sending out ripples.

No I can’t go see the sea, because I’m going to.

She bit her lip, a drop of blood falling onto her tongue… it tasted salty.

Andra’s pace was swift. She didn’t hear the silent roar in her lover’s heart as she charged onto the beach, rushing toward the sea. Soft grains of sand jumped into their shoes, dancing between their toes.

She hoisted Eleanor up, letting the Princess sit on her shoulders to look out at the surging waves.

The night sea was dark and profound, like pieces of hard black jade packed into an invisible cloth bag, clanging as they were swung by a god. Andra stared at the dark waters for a while, feeling the lover on her shoulders trembling slightly.

“Whoa, it’s actually a bit terrifying?”

She teased playfully, then quickly looked left and right, climbing onto a reef and gently setting Eleanor down beside her. They sat side-by-side on the high rock, like two seagulls admiring french fries. The sturdier seagull on the left nudged the smaller one on the right, spreading her wings heartily to shield her.

“Here, hold on tight.”

As Andra spoke, her wrist firmly hooked her lover’s arm, pulling the warmth of their bodies together. She whispered in Eleanor’s ear: “Let’s wait for the sunrise together.”

Eleanor turned her face silently, scrutinizing Andra’s handsome, smiling face. The moonlight was hazily smeared across the high bridge of her nose, sketching a moist curve along her lip line. As for those bright eyes—there was no need for reflected light; they were already illuminated from within.

She was always like this… the Andra of the first life had also watered their love with this same moving vitality.

Why would a girl who transmigrated here become obsessed with a romance game? Why, before her eighteenth birthday, did she care about nothing except her love for Andra?

Because that love was simply too beautiful—so beautiful that one couldn’t bear to miss a single second.

Waking up in the morning with a handsome lover lying beside you. She was young, lovely, and full of vigor; every inch of her physique made the heart skip a beat. When Andra danced with her blade, she could cleave through layers of danger, leaving behind only the ripple of tranquil temptation.

Eleanor wanted to give her flowers, cook for her, forge swords for her… she wanted her to stand triumphantly at the very front of the crowd. Because of love, she wanted to offer up everything beautiful; she would even pluck her own feathers to build the warmest nest.

And Andra was the same.

In the first life, she had squandered her youth for the beautiful Princess, spending vast amounts of time weaving garlands for her and learning to sing. Before the age of eighteen, her most practiced exercises were running through fields, flying kites, and chasing insignificant rabbits.

In the third life, she taught swordsmanship with absolute sincerity. No matter what she was doing as long as the Princess gave the command she would charge through any hardship without hesitation.

I truly want to be with this version of her forever, forever and ever.

Looking at Andra’s bright smile and listening to her point at the sea while recounting romantic legends, Eleanor felt a sudden impulse. An impulse to end this life immediately so that in the next life, she could take Andra to a future where no one else could see, fueled by an even more passionate love.

But she restrained herself.

“I have things I want to do.”

The Eleanor of the first life and Evelyn on the stage had said these words with expressions ranging from sentimental to cold.

You once made me mistakenly believe I came to this world to fall into a dreamlike romance with you. But more people have let me know—I still have many things I should do.

In an instant, countless faces—crying, laughing, serious, or despairing flashed through her mind.

“Andra won’t necessarily destroy these things; she could be my best assistant.”

No, she is destined to accelerate this era, crushing many lives in the throes of birth.

“Without her, there would be someone else. Unification is an inevitability of the era; better a short pain than a long one.”

Then I want to try walking my own path.

Eleanor calmly refuted the tiny voice in her heart. Since she could strip Ophilia of the chance to be King simply because of Ophilia’s mediocrity even going as far as killing her to change that “established” future—then why should she give Andra special treatment?

“Because you because I love her so, so much.”

Eleanor’s voice stopped abruptly. She no longer tried to persuade herself, nor could she explain this subtle state of mind.

Love? Love. Love—Love is the most powerful force.

Lilia on the stage seemed to still be laughing and spinning; the faint scent of incense had not fully dissipated. Eleanor could not control her body. Driven by instinct or a surge of emotion, she leaned toward Andra, wrapping her arms around her neck, and took the initiative to offer to demand a kiss.

At first, it was just a shallow touch, tentatively swimming deeper. Andra froze for a second, then her gaze became disordered. She raised her arms, reciprocating her youthful lover with intense movements.

Perhaps the night was too dark and the sea too profound. At some point, they rolled into a hollow in the reef, tearing through the overlapping gold threads on the cloak and fabric amidst the soft sand.

The moment the moonlight spilled over the girl’s skin, Andra stopped. Her body was still trembling slightly, her golden-red eyes drowned in thick emotion, her breath coming in gasps… but she stopped. At this moment, there was no hesitation, no regret; it was more like the final mercy of a predator.

Should I continue? Do you want me to continue?

She held the Princess’s slender wrist, meticulously scrutinizing every trace of shyness and fragility on her lover’s face.

Should I continue? Does she want me to?

Eleanor also surfaced from the intense emotions, her eyelashes cutting through fragments of memory, condensing into cold teardrops.

Slaughter… Her slaughter of Andra had long been scheduled. She had spent years laying out the board, fully utilizing Andra’s talents at every stage, and after it was over, she planned to drown her in the deep sea.

What kind of person could, under these circumstances, enjoy all the beauty of their lover with a clear conscience? Truly was she really going to squeeze every last drop of value out of Andra?

Eleanor wanted to wail aloud. What… what had she done in this life? She made Andra educate Messara, let her guide her own swordsmanship, sent her to suppress the restless city lords, and had her face various assassinations alongside Manzhu…

She forged Andra into a sword, used her as a shield, and feigned the status of a lover… yet she had written the ending from the very beginning: an ending where Andra died an innocent and tragic death, and only she could realize her dream.

How terrifying; she was so horrific that she felt disgusted by herself. The light in Eleanor’s eyes faded; she wanted to shake her head and end this absurd scene.

But she saw Andra’s eyes burning like a conflagration.

Andra wanted to continue very much… very urgently. Her lover’s hand hovered over the ribbon’s knot, but that predatory gaze was extending into darker places, as if she wanted to pull her hair and possess every fiber of her being.

Gulp.

She heard the sound of Andra swallowing, followed by words soaked in an inexplicable tenderness…

“This mark… is so beautiful.” It was as if the Mother Goddess had shed a tear for her daughter.

The place Andra touched was that bright red, blood-like “birthmark.”

“Mother, let me remember her. Let me remember this towering rage I have been too indolent.”

Eleanor blinked, submissively holding back her tears. If this was what Andra wanted… then she would give it to her, as a small compensation for this life. She wanted everything to end at this sea; she was willing to bloom fully before the tide rose.

She felt her body float up, gently cushioned by her unfurled nightgown. Just as the two were about to fall into each other…

Clang! A sharp sound suddenly rang out nearby.

Andra’s finger paused, and her breathing became heavy.

Clang, clang-clang-clang!

Successive strikes vibrated, making the skull ache. Eleanor opened her eyes; she felt the overflowing killing intent.

Andra’s arms trembled violently, her fingers having moved from the soft neck to claw fiercely into the sand. She was nearly mad with rage, but before going mad she was going to kill the interrupters first!

Andra buckled her leather armor and snatched her cloak to throw over herself. She picked up her sword and said “Hide well” to her lover in a raspy voice before leaping down from the reef. Her lips were pressed tight, and she charged out like a wraith from hell!

“Ha, huff…”

A golden-haired girl ran along the beach, chased by three sturdy youths. All four were dressed in exquisite formal wear; the youths’ scimitars were encrusted with jewels, and the girl wore a delicate, headband-shaped crown.

The girl’s skirt billowed; the chase looked romantic at first glance, but a closer look revealed the youths’ blades were covered in blood. The girl’s skirt wasn’t long; the reason it billowed was that she had torn a large piece of it away herself.

“Princess, please stop!” The youth behind was clearly chasing from a distance, panting heavily.

Another youth flanked from the right, shouting sternly: “All who betray the King are dead! You’d better be sensible!”

“What do you want?!” Eliza was cornered toward the sea, weeping as her chest heaved: “You… weren’t you my personal guards before?”

Two of the youths flushed with shame. But Belai had its own circumstances; they soon stiffened their faces and pressed in from different directions, like three wolves closing in on a fawn.

“Princess, do not resist anymore. The King’s patience is limited.” “Yes, if you hadn’t fled, my sister wouldn’t have met with an accident!”

One of the youths gnashed her teeth and brandished her blade, scaring Eliza into staggering back a few more steps. She peeked toward the right side of the coast, where her final followers should have been lying in ambush…

Clang, clang-clang!

A burst of clashing swords suddenly echoed from afar, coming closer and closer yet it soon fell silent, sinking into total stillness. Eliza’s face turned deathly pale: Heavens, her final knight… had he also perished along with the pursuers?

She fell to the ground in despair, and the three youths also looked anxious. But they didn’t turn to check; they rushed toward the fallen Princess. The youth who had been gnashing her teeth had a distorted face, roaring as she ran: “You jinx! It’s you who killed them!”

Eliza shuddered, trembling as she retorted: “No… it wasn’t… it was you! You could have let us go!”

“Hmph!” The youth sneered, being the first to reach the Princess, raising her scimitar high.

“Hey!!!” The people behind roared: “Do not harm the Princess!”

The youth turned a deaf ear, swinging the blade down with a grin—

Splurt! Hot blood sprayed wildly, drenching the youth’s head and face. Her smile froze as her body buckled, rotating slowly as it fell from mid-air.

Thump.

The sound of the corpse hitting the ground vibrated simultaneously with Eliza’s heartbeat. A golden-red figure stood before her, having severed the traitor’s waist with ease.

“Heh.” The golden-red warrior was laughing.

Her figure flickered; no one could track her movement. In the next second, the second person also collapsed.

“Aaaaah! Who are you?!” The third person broke down before the hellish scene, dancing her sword wildly in a frantic struggle. Dammit, how could the Princess have recruited such a monster?!

Whoosh.

Her barrage of questions was nailed into her throat by a sword. Andra flicked her wrist and swept the final syllable away with a forceful slash. Eliza covered her mouth, suffocating deeply, her teeth chattering from the bloody slaughter before her.

This person’s killing posture was too effortless and poetic. It didn’t look like slaying enemies; it was more like… a youth sitting on a boat, easily plucking lotus pods one by one!

Who was she?

The same doubt rose in Eliza as it had in the dead: all the money she had spent could never hire such a powerful mercenary. How could such a person be a mercenary?

The intense fear stopped abruptly when the golden-red figure turned around. So did Eliza’s gasping breath.

Splash.

Andra flicked her sword in the wind, shaking off the blood droplets. She turned sideways as Eliza rolled back, casting a cold glance. The sea breeze blew; the golden-haired girl clutched her trembling lips.

Before her was the treacherous sea, yet she seemed to see a pale sun within the ink-black darkness.

The royal court of Belai was like a web woven of gold, attracting talent from all directions. Among them were many handsome and powerful nobles. Yet, compared to the person before her, they were like golden beads on sand, jade on marble; a single glance could crush all the efforts of others.

Eliza’s heart pounded. She was well-versed in all plays and most myths; she recognized the attire at a glance: she was playing Yang, the Yang of mythology.

The patterns of these clothes had a hint of Hetuyan style, but the sewing techniques and cut clearly originated from Nolanna. Even without considering the details of the clothing, someone who could play “Yang” at a masquerade must be of high status.

As clever as she was, she immediately found a possibility among the tangled clues. The foreign high noble who had come to visit the new King Charlotte this morning…

Golden-red hair and eyes, powerful martial skills, and attire combining Nolannan and Hetuyan elements.

This person was the Hound of Enlin, the Demon of City-Breaking, the Iron-Blooded Warrior… the Prince Consort of the wise Princess Eleanor, the Royal Daughter from Hetuya, Andra!

Support