Chapitre 2: 2

HE/HEROINE AND MY VILLAINESS

(FIND YOUR HOME WITH REASONS)

"But I heard from an old belief that when two people die together and have a deep connection, they will see each other again, so there's a fifty percent chance Alda could be here as well," I mumble to myself, forming theories and cultivating a positive mindset.

'Ugh... I feel so drained and exhausted that I don't have much energy yet...' I reflected, my body and head throbbing with pain.

"My poor child..." Madam Rose began to sob, both relieved and worried about her daughter's well-being. She stood up and stroked my cheeks.

With a disoriented expression on my face, I turned my head and shrugged her hand away from my cheek. However, Madam Rose's hand remained in my cheeks, or should I say Vendia cheeks, because of how weak, lack of strength, and exhausted my body felt on the inside.

I let out a long, tired sigh and turned away from them, my gaze fixed on a soft-to-ouch blanket that encased my waist to my feet.

"Haah... why am I here?" I ask silently between my breaths, not minding all the people inside the room.

"I'm exhausted; please don't cry, don't cry because I'm not your daughte—-" I added but my words were unfinished because I lost consciousness before I could finish them, leaving everyone shocked and alarmed by my sudden collapse in bed.

"Vendia! My baby, my poor baby!" cries Madam Rose as she watches her daughter lose consciousness, catching her head just in time and laying her back on the bed in a comfortable position.

"Dear..." Lord Marthen observes his wife, who is weeping in vain for their only daughter.

"What happened? Why does she lose consciousness again? And why does she look at us as someone else? What is going on?" Madam Rose asks, her voice trembling with desperation and anxiety.

"You told us our daughter only had a high fever, so what is THIS?" Madam Rose cried, enraged. The doctor trembled and bowed his head.

"M, my lord, M, madam. I, I swear the young miss was only suffering from a high fever, unless..." the old physician said, his voice shaking. He returned their gaze, sweating and trembling as he gulped and concluded.

"Unless what? Speak!" Lord Marthen demanded impatiently.

"Unless the young miss has a severe mental breakdown and it affects her, giving her amnesia," the doctor concludes.

"Despicable! How can my daughter have amnesia? How is that even conceivable? "Lord Marthen inquired, his brow furrowed, a sniping glare directed at the old physician, as he embraced his wife, who was crying in despair, close to him.

"Her case is rare; I've never had a case like this before, but it is possible, my lord," the old physician said, sticking to his conclusion. The noble couple on the verge of tears studied his expression for a split second, until Lord Marthen remembered something.

'Come to think of it, she told me back then, when I found her alone in the forest, laying on the muddy ground,' Lord Marthen reflected.

[FLASHBACK]

I looked everywhere for Vendia, my daughter. She had been missing for four days, but we couldn't find her anywhere, so I ordered my guards and people to join me in searching inside the forest with the king guards' aides.

And I discovered her drenched in the mud. I dashed towards her, terrified, and carried her in her bridal gown. As she speaks, she awakens in my arms with a weak, raspy voice.

"F, father... I, I killed her... Father... I'm sorry," she forced herself to say as she forced herself to speak fluently for me.

"I'm sorry for causing you all pain and disappointing you. Because of my selfishness, Father. Because I am compelled to achieve an impossible goal in order to be with the person I love. Father, I made you all suffer. Father, I..." As she spoke, I couldn't help but notice her pale complexion and suspect something was wrong.

Her lips are so dry that the skin is peeling, and I couldn't help but feel hurt and anxious seeing her like that; it made me forget the words she spoke to me, and all I could think of was rushing her home and giving her medication.

"Vendia, don't say anything else, just rest in Father's arms, okay? Don't worry about anything anymore. Father is here now. Father will take you home now," I couldn't help but let out a trembling sigh in the end to calm my thoughts.

Convincing myself to calm down in front of her and not think exaggerated scenes in my head, that everything will be fine now because I found her and will bring her home with me, but when my daughter gave me a force smile and swiftly giggled in front of me while tears burst out into her eyes and flaw into her pale cheeks.

My heart couldn't stop racing as I realized something bad was about to happen.

"Father is right. I don't need to think any further. I'm exhausted, Father. Can I go to sleep now? " She asked as her breath began to shorten, as if something was stuck in her throat, preventing her from breathing freely.

I gulp and maintain my composure, even though I know something isn't quite right.

"Of course, my daughter can rest for the time being. T-then, rest your head on Father's chest for a while, okay? " I respond, trying not to stutter as I begin to walk at a normal pace with her in my embrace. Pretending to be at ease.

My emotions were already crawling over me at the time, but I stopped them from entering my heart and mind because I didn't want to admit something terrifying in my mind. I couldn't accept it. I'd rather dream of accepting it in a dream than accept it in reality.

"I want to forget everything, Father; I'm tired. Father, I..." She couldn't finish her sentence because her head, as well as the rest of her body, was losing strength, and she passed out in my arms as her tears stopped flowing.

"Vendia? VENDIA," I screamed in terror as she passed out in front of me, and I came to a halt, bending down and carrying her in my arms.

I examine her quickly and discover she has a high fever and is still breathing. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

However, my relief was cut short when I learned that the air that comes out of her mouth and nose is so low. I tried to feel her pulse with my hand, but as I touched her, I realized her body was as cold as ice, and her skin had already turned pale.

The warmth I felt in her body earlier has faded, leaving me stunned and unsure of what to think as I continue to stare at her.

Her clothes are stained with mud and blood. It stinks and is filthy. Nonetheless, I didn't care and was only concerned with the fact that her clothes were stained with blood.

I was so shocked to see such a thing that my hand trembled and my mind began to circulate breath-taking thoughts that caused my tears to flow indefinitely.

I forced my trembling right hand to move to examine her body further and trace where the blood trail ended up on the abdominal part of her stomach.

My eyes became stiff, and my heart briefly stopped beating. My lungs dried up and my breathing became labored as my mind became agitated. My hand comes to a halt in the air as I feel my body tremble and shiver in fear and nervousness at the thought of the horrifying truth.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but it has no effect. The shocking image of my daughter that was shown to me made me lose all motivation to think further.

I wanted to stop looking and gulp all of these thoughts inside, pretending that nothing was wrong, but I couldn't because it felt so real. Everything is depicted in reality.

As I investigate my daughter's condition further. I noticed that the clothes on her stomach were ripped open like a slit close to her abdomen.

Her clothes became tangled in the slit wound in her stomach, which resembled a dagger stab wound. Some of the blood had dried and caused the cloth to stick inside the wound, infecting it.

The skin inside the wound has already turned purple, and some of the parts are too disgusting to describe in detail.

I move my hand to my daughter's stomach and use my right hand to cover the horrifying and already rotten wound while pulling her close to my neck and screaming angrily at myself.

All of this, I believe, occurred as a result of my failure to protect my family and my lack of ability to act.

My tears flowed like a river as I clenched my teeth and clenched my left finger into a fist, my body trembling from such hatred and guilt.

Anger and despised crawl through my heart and mind as I hold her body in my embrace, sobbing like a maniac.

"HAHAHAHA, ha, hahahaha. Hahahahaha. What have you done to yourself, my daughter? This is my child. Why did you become this way? No, hahahaha, no, no,"

I held her face in my palm that was wet from the rain and dirty from the mud and noticed the veins in her face and body were now visible, as if there was no more blood flowing inside her body and no trace of warmth.

It made me lose my sanity and I couldn't see anything other than my daughter in front of me, lifeless and cold. I just held her close to me for five minutes, my wide eyes wide with disbelief as I stared at my daughter's cold body, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"My Lord!" Sir Sebi called out to me, huffing from running and drenched from the heavy rain, his eyes filled with concern, and that's when I regained some senses in my mind.

I immediately signaled him to tell all the guards and other people who had joined me in my search for my daughter to stop looking, and we dashed back home in panic.

[FLASHBACK END]

Lord Marthen, sighing, returns to his senses and smiles at his daughter with relief.

'If my daughter didn't make it. 'I'd never forgive myself,' he reasoned.

Seeing my only daughter suffer in such a way enraged me and caused me to lose my temper in front of all my servants. I know who is causing her anguish and suffering.

I'm well aware of who they are. However, because of the ambiguous theory regarding who my daughter had killed. I can't just rush up and make those people pay for what they've done. Before I rush to war and face those scheming dirty rats, I need a clear explanation from my daughter first.

Besides, what's more important right now is that my daughter recovers from her illness and that my wife does not become ill again.

Lord Marthen clenched his teeth inside, furious upon thinking at the people he believes are causing his daughter's pain, and clenched his trembling hand into a fist.

"So, what should we do?" Lord Marthen sighed as he waited for an answer.

"Yes, how can we reclaim our daughter's memories?" Madam Rose inquired.

"For the time being, the young miss needs to rest. Don't let her do any heavy work or get stressed, and spend more time with her as a family; this could help her regain her memories and heal," the elder physician advised.

"All right, we'll do that," Lord Marthen said, releasing his wife with a gentle smile on his already calmed face.

Madam Rose's tears were no longer wet. She walked over to her daughter and sat with her on the bed, embracing and cuddling her into her arms.

"My poor child..." said Madam Rose.

Lord Marthen thanked the old physician before dismissing him and their servant.

Lord Marthen returned to his wife's side and caressed her back with his left hand after dismissing everyone back to their work.

"Everything will be fine, dear," he assured his wife, who only nodded in response. Lord Marthen has a calm expression on his face as he looks at his unconscious daughter, but his heart is tense.

Things are still unclear regarding her daughter's situation, but he is confident that his child will be fine. After all, he is her daughter. The Marquis family's only young Miss. A brave, strong, noble, self-sufficient, and knowledgeable individual, Vendia.

'She'll be fine. She'll get through it. I know she will,' Lord Marthen thought, embracing the two women who bring him hope and light on his life.

To be continued...