Chapter 47 The Color of Ruin
The barn had always smelled the same.
Rotting hay. Damp wood. Iron.
It was a smell Amaria had long grown used to-one that clung to her skin, seeped into her clothes, and followed her no matter how far she tried to run.
But it was quiet here.
And quiet was something better to her than getting hair pulled out.
Amaria sat in the corner of the barn, her knees pulled close to her chest, her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her worn dress. The sting on her arm throbbed faintly-a thin scratch, shallow but fresh. The Baron's daughter had hurt her again.
She hadn't even noticed the wound.
Only that it hurt.
Only that it bled.
A droplet slid down her skin, fell and vanished into the bag of grains below.
Amaria blinked.
She tilted her head slightly, watching.
Moments later, the barn door creaked open.
A maid stepped inside, humming softly to herself as she gathered the feed. Without a second thought, she scooped up the grains-mixed, tainted-and scattered them before the chickens.
Amaria said nothing.
She only hid and watched.
---
The next day
One of the chickens fluttered weakly, its feathers no longer the dull white they once were.
They had changed.
A faint hue of purple clung to them, unnatural against the light.
Amaria stepped closer.
Her eyes widened-not in fear.
But in wonder.
"...Pretty."
The word slipped from her lips before she could stop it.
But the beauty didn't last.
Days passed.
And one by one-
The chickens in the barn died.
---
The manor stirred with panic.
Voices overlapped each other.
Accusations were thrown.
The maid-tearful and trembling-was dragged away, her plea ignored. She was the only one who could have done the chicken massacre.
"I did nothing wrong-!"
She yelled before the door shut behind her.
Silence followed.
"Daddy, why did the chickens die?" the Baron's daughter asked.
"They were poisoned, sweetie. I don't know what the maid was thinking and what she gains from killing all the chickens in the barn."
Amaria stood at the edge of the hall just watching the scene take place.
...Was it ... me?
Her gaze lowered slowly to her own hand.
To the place where the scratch had once been.
Now gone, as if it had never existed.
---
She returned to the barn. This time, she wasn't there to hide.
She was now curious.
The only other thing different that the chickens consumed was the drop of blood she shed.
She separated a bowl of grain into a small pouch.
A shard of broken wood lay nearby.
She picked it up.
Then-
Pressed it against her skin.
She softly inhaled then allowed a shallow cut against it.
Crimson welled on the pressed area.
She had dropped it on the feed she separated.
Amaria stirred the feed gently, almost carefully, as if she were preparing something delicate.
However, all the chickens have died.
What should I try feeding it to?
The question lingered only briefly.
A bird landed nearby, pecking at the ground, probably foraging for food.
Amaria's eyes lit up.
She scattered the grains in one area and soon enough, a couple more birds had flocked.
Without suspicion, the birds started pecking eagerly at each grain.
Amaria watched from beneath the shade of a tree.
Hours passed.
Then days.
And just as before-
Purple feathers.
Then stillness.
Then silence.
Lifeless birds littered the ground like fallen petals.
Amaria stepped forward, crouching beside one.
Her fingers brushed against its feathers.
Oh?
"...So it wasn't the maid, after all."
Her voice was soft but she had already concluded something.
A slow smile curved against her lips.
---
The next day
The Baron's daughter didn't let a single day go by when she does not mock Amaria.
Her tone was as displeasing as ever.
"You reek. Ugh, " she sneered, covering her nose, "Though, it might just be your natural stench."
Amaria lowered her gaze, small and meek.
"...I'm sorry." She forced these words to come out of her mouth.
Though, her mind had already been elsewhere.
She was already observing, calculating, and planning for the moment she would take her revenge.
---
A few days later
Amaria prepared tea in her room.
But it was not just tea.
She pricked her finger, letting a single drop of blood fall into the porcelain cup.
Her fingers trembled-not from fear.
But from anticipation.
Finally-
Finally-
Finding the time to prepare this proved difficult, with the Baron's daughter always lingering nearby and the household staff keeping a constant eye over Amaria.
"...The Baron's daughter died?"
The murmurs outside her room made her pause.
Had she heard correctly?
She stepped into the hallway.
"...Who died?"
The maids startled.
"Oh! Sorry, my lady! We didn't know you were there!" the maids looked at each other with their heads bowed towards Amaria, scared she might tattle on them to the Baron.
"It's alright, everyone," Amaria smiled, "But who is dead?"
"Ah- You did not know, my lady? The Baron's daughter- she had not been out of her room for several days." the maid explained.
No wonder I have not heard her annoying voice for a while.
"The Baron was worried so he forced the door open but what they found was so shocking his wife had fainted at the sight."
"...What was it?" Amaria asked.
"She took her own life-"
"...Over a man, they said..."
"The one she loved said he already had fallen for someone else..."
"It was quite scandalous, my lady."
"It's probably because she does not believe in the Goddess that she turned out that way-" one maid blurted out and immediately covered her mouth.
Amaria realized something right then and there.
"My lady, I didn't -!"
"It's fine, Fanny." Amaria said, her eyes soft with practiced sorrow, "I must comfort the Baron and Baroness now."
"How kind you are truly, my lady."
"You are indeed a blessing to this family, my lady."
Amaria seemingly forced a smile.
"Thank you, all for your kind words." she said before walking away.
Then-
A soft laugh slipped from her lips, just enough that no one would notice.
"...Ah."
Her hand slowly rose to her lips.
"How amusing.."
She did not need to shed blood. She had noticed it for a while, people had found her to be irresistible. Like they could not say 'no' to her every request.
However, she had dismissed the thought after meeting the Baron's daughter who had abused her everyday since she was adopted because it was only her that was not affected by Amaria's charm.
Until now.
No one could trample her anymore.
Even if the Baron's daughter did not commit suicide, Amaria would have gotten rid of her one way or another.
Her gaze drifted to her reflection in the glass window of the Baron's house.
Her eyes.
Her smile.
It was not the Amaria the people around her had seen.
It was scary rather than gentle.
Creepy rather than cute.
Sinister rather than soft.
A quiet hum escaped her.
---
From that day forward-
Amaria had hidden her true self. She became the angel everyone believed her to be.
Later, when the Baron introduced her to his close relative-a successful Count from the Capital-Amaria wasted no time in displaying her charm.
The Capital held far greater opportunities.
And just like that, the Count took her in.
Life could not have been so perfect.
Until-
The engagement party of the Count.
She had met Rael at that time, and, just like any other lady in the ton, she desired him. More than anything she had ever wanted in her life.
A prince who will sweep me away and take me to his castle..
That was what she initially thought.
She tried her usual antics, but they did not work. It was so frustrating for her. That man did not even flinch at the sight of her fragile self.
Worse was, after that day. She never saw him again.
How is he going to sweep me away, if he isn't even anywhere near me?
She would tantrum in her room alone all day.
I must have him.
I will have him.
She thought repeatedly.
Then-
"A royal decree from His Majesty!"
The hall fell silent.
"Lady Amaria Makor-you are hereby summoned to the Palace. By decree of Their Majesties and the Basilica Church, you are to be sheltered as the Blessed Child, as proclaimed by the Saintess Serena. You will reside in the Palace, with all luxuries afforded to you."
"All hail the Blessed Child of the Goddess Serafim!"
"All hail!"
Amaria smiled just enough that no one would notice.
She could not have been more satisfied with this. Now, she had the means to stay in contact with the Prince of her desires. Not only that, when she successfully marries him, the throne would not be far away.
The image of the throne burned in her mind.
The Crown Prince at her side.
A kingdom beneath her feet.
Everything within her reach.
But-
Every time, she approached him, he remained distant. Like a wall she could not break no matter how hard she tried to climb over.
There was only one person he ever looked at.
Esmeralda Schuan
The Duke's precious daughter. The one obstacle she could not remove. And all she could do was clench her teeth.
I want her gone.
I hope she dies.
I wish she would kill herself.
She thought this over and over again. But nothing would happen to the lady. Every time Amaria thought she would have her way, Esmeralda would always seem to come out on top.
I hate her.
She's a slut.
She deserves the most gruesome death possible.
Her nails dug into her palm.
Hard enough to draw blood once more.
This time-
She did not smile.
Esmeralda.
The name alone was enough to twist something inside her chest.
She stared at her dripping blood on the floor.
Her smile returned.
But not the kind anyone would expect.
It was darker.
Heavier.
And ominous.
I suppose, I'll be using this after all.