NOVEL NEXT Chapter 128: When Did I Become Like This?
Chapter 128: When Did I Become Like This?
A puppy is just a puppy.
So cute.
How could calling itself “not a puppy anymore” magically turn it into a human?
Humans are so filthy and detestable. Staying a carefree little dog is much better.
All it needs is to curl up in its master’s arms, enjoying cuddles and kisses—that’s enough to make it happy.
But wait... where’s my puppy?
Where has my adorable little dog gone?
Come back quickly!
If it’s accidentally run outside and been lured away by those bad women, Master will be very, very upset!What’s that?
You’ve already become someone else’s puppy?
No… that’s not allowed!
Master will get really angry!
At this moment, countless jumbled thoughts and voices flooded Yveste’s mind.
She couldn’t even remember the expression on her face as she left Lynn’s room.
All she knew was that when his cold and ruthless words pierced her heart, her entire mind buzzed with static, as if she were escaping reality by shutting out all external noise.
When she finally came to her senses, she realized she was holding a dagger and quietly sitting by the window of her study.
She stared at the sharp blade in her hand without saying a word.
The scenes from earlier replayed vividly in her mind.
That adorable little dog—it was never truly hers alone.
And what’s worse, it might have already belonged to another woman long before it ever came into her life.
Realizing this, Yveste’s slender wrist trembled slightly. She tried to grip the dagger tightly, but no amount of effort could suppress the pain and exhaustion welling up from within.
There weren’t many things that could make her feel this powerless.
Other than the few times she’d passed out while dealing with Sealed Artifacts, the only other instance was when she watched Lynn die before her very eyes.
And now, she could add one more moment to that list.
But this time, the sense of powerlessness and disgust went far beyond anything she had experienced before.
No matter how despairing her past setbacks had been, there was always a faint glimmer of hope somewhere in the darkness.
But this time, Yveste saw no chance of victory.
The future version of herself—the Witch of the End, Yveste.
Whenever she thought of that cold, white-haired woman she had glimpsed through the River of Time in Lynn’s spiritual world, Yveste felt a surge of seething hatred and jealousy.
That woman was her… and yet, not entirely her.
She possessed far greater strength, rivaling that of the gods.
Her life experience was richer, making her infinitely more mature and dependable.
Her personality seemed more likable, at least enough to completely enchant their little dog.
But most importantly—and most devastatingly—
The future her had seemingly cured the cursed mark on her face.
That “sinful” curse had been the shadow over Yveste’s life since childhood.
It could be said that much of what had driven her to her current state was due to this curse.
Before Lynn appeared, the black curse mark on her face had always been a scar buried deep in her heart, one she refused to touch. She lived her life behind a mask, like a rat that couldn’t show itself in the light.
Pitiful and pathetic.
But now, that future version of herself had rid herself of the curse, becoming so beautiful and noble.
In comparison, she was nothing but an ugly duckling despised by all. Other than Lynn, no one thought she was attractive.
No.
Perhaps even her little dog hadn’t meant it when he once said, “You’re beautiful.”
Looking back now, every part of it seemed suspicious.
It was entirely possible that he had already met that future version of herself long before he ever came to know her.
If that were true, then who was that “beautiful” comment really directed at?
The answer was obvious.
This realization was the final straw that broke Yveste’s fragile state of mind.
No matter how she compared herself, she couldn’t find even the slightest aspect where she could outshine that future woman.
And worse still, she saw no chance of ever surpassing her.
Even if Yveste wanted to change, every bit of progress and improvement she made would only bring her closer to resembling that future version of herself.
It was a terrifying and soul-crushing thought.
To her, the Witch was the endpoint, the one who already had everything she had.
But to the Witch, Yveste was nothing more than a painful memory—a fleeting, insignificant moment in the River of Time.
The gap was insurmountable.
She couldn’t even think of a way to exact revenge or kill her.
...No.
Actually, there was one thing she could do.
In every way that she had been bested by that vile woman, this was the only act she could still manage.
A faint glimmer of light flickered in Yveste’s dull, crimson eyes.
Her breath grew heavier as she lowered her gaze to the dagger in her trembling hand.
If she killed herself right here, then that wretched future woman would no longer exist.
Yveste slowly raised the blade, but a trace of confusion clouded her eyes once more.
But if I die, what will happen to my little puppy?
Without its master, it’ll surely whimper pitifully, lost and desperate.
Not only that, he’s so adorable—there’s a good chance some other woman might take him home.
In that case… I’ll just kill him too.
Even in death, we’ll be buried together, and he’ll stay by my side forever.
Never to part again.
The soft moonlight poured in through the window like flowing water, coating the sharp dagger with a faint silver sheen.
In her daze, Yveste suddenly saw a reflection in the mirror-like surface of the blade.
It was a disheveled, hollow-eyed white-haired woman.
The face felt both familiar and alien to her.
Haggard. Desperate.
Is this… me?
Yveste turned her head instinctively toward the wall beside her.
There hung a portrait—a bold and valiant woman in military uniform. Her gaze was sharp as a blade, her demeanor imposing and regal, the epitome of a proud royal.
Even with a mask obscuring part of her face, she radiated an aura of awe-inspiring dignity.
No. That’s me.
The Third Princess of the Saint Roland Empire, Yveste Roland Alexini.
The woman destined to rise from obscurity, defy all expectations, and emerge victorious in the Succession Ceremony. The one who would lead this decaying empire into a new era of hope and renewal.
Staring at the vibrant, commanding figure in the portrait, Yveste’s hand trembled involuntarily, and the sharp dagger clattered to the ground.
She stared blankly at her pale hand.
The once flawless, delicate skin was now covered with scars and nail marks, the aftermath of her self-destructive behavior in recent days.
These were marks of obsession and madness.
And they were things her past self would never have done.
The Yveste of old would have simply dealt with any displeasing person or situation by erasing it—quickly, decisively.
When had she ever resorted to suppressing those feelings, letting them fester inside her until they led to self-destruction?
When did I start becoming like this?
Yveste’s gaze fell to the dagger on the ground, her mind drifting as though searching for an answer.