Capítulo 2: CHAPTER ONE : A CHANCE (1)
The ward was silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional beeping from the heart monitor beside Emilia's bed. A pale, silver glow from the moon slipped through the window, casting a soft, almost ethereal light on her frail figure.
She leaned against the pillows propped behind her, her legs covered by the thick blanket that shielded them from the cold. The blanket was unnecessary. Her legs had long since ceased to feel anything.
Emilia's fingers, almost translucent under the moonlight, gently held the smartphone in her hand. Her silvery hair, loose and unkempt, spilled over the bed like threads of moonlight, contrasting sharply with her hospital-issued gown.
Her blue eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were dull as they traced the final lines on the screen, each word pulling her deeper into the sinking pit of disappointment.
Tears welled up in her eyes, clinging to her lashes as the weight of the moment settled in.
[Game Over]
It was over. The end of Heroes of Cartea had arrived. A game she had lived through vicariously, where she had cheered for every moment of Adelaide Harmonia's journey. But now, as the words burned into her eyes, Emilia could hardly believe it.
"Why… why did it end like this?" she whispered, her voice cracking as she fought back a sob. Her chest felt heavy, suffocating as her heart tightened painfully in her chest. Her hands gripped the phone tighter, and her bottom lip trembled.
She had always rooted for Adelaide Harmonia, the frail yet determined female protagonist of Heroes of Cartea. Despite all odds, despite being a mere substitute for the real Duchess's daughter, despite being born to commoners and exchanged at birth, Adelaide had everything.
She had fought to become a noble, she had been loved, admired, and cherished. Even with the weight of her past sins—the secret that she was nothing more than the maid's daughter—Adelaide had risen above it all.
A small, bitter laugh escaped Emilia's lips. So different from me.
In her reality, Emilia had none of those things. Like Adelaide, she had also been exchanged at birth, given away like a useless pawn in someone else's game. But unlike the heroine, no one had come to love her. No one had fought for her. When she was no longer needed, no longer of any value, they discarded her without a second thought.
Just like trash.
Her heart clenched at the memory, the coldness of her family's rejection still as raw as the day it had happened. She was forgotten, abandoned, and left to rot in this sterile hospital with her useless, crippled legs that could no longer carry her anywhere. She had once dreamed of walking again, of proving her worth to them. But that dream had died, just like her body was slowly dying here.
It had been Heroes of Cartea that kept her going, that gave her something to live for. Through Adelaide, she had experienced life—Adelaide's victories, her sorrows, her love, and her fight. Everything Emilia had wanted, everything she could never have, she had found in that virtual world.
So why? Why had it ended like this?
Emilia's breath hitched as she read the final scene again. Adelaide stood over the fallen figure of the man who had loved her unconditionally. The hero of the story, the one who had stood by her side, the one who had sacrificed everything for her, was now lying in a pool of his blood. And Adelaide? She had done nothing. She had let him die.
For what? For a crown? For a throne promised by the Demon King?
Adelaide, you had everything, Emilia thought angrily, gripping the blanket beneath her with trembling fingers. Why would you betray him? Why would you choose power over love?
Her tears blurred the screen, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. The disappointment, the anger—it was overwhelming. She had invested so much into Adelaide, rooting for her, believing in her strength, in her goodness. And now… now, the betrayal was too much to bear.
"You're just a puppet," Emilia muttered, her voice shaking. "A puppet for the Demon King... after everything. How could you?"
With a sharp tug, she yanked the blanket over her lap, gripping it tightly in her fists. Anger bubbled up inside her, a fire she hadn't felt in a long time. Her fingers flew over the phone's keyboard, her frustration pouring into the screen as she typed furiously into the game's comment section.
How could you do this? she wrote, her tears finally spilling over, trailing down her pale cheeks. You had everything, and you threw it away for power? What kind of sick story is this?
Her fingers shook as she sent the message. But it wasn't enough. The rage boiling inside her refused to die down. She kept typing, cursing the developers, cursing the game, cursing the unfairness of it all. It felt good, for a brief moment. It felt like she had some control, some way to vent the suffocating feelings that had been bottled up for so long.
But then, as the messages flooded the screen, her phone slipped from her hand and fell onto the blanket. Emilia let out a heavy sigh, her energy spent. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to calm herself, her heart pounding in her ears. She stared blankly at the phone, its light now dimming as the screen began to time out.
"Adelaide had it all," Emilia whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. "She had love. She had people who cared for her. Why wasn't that enough?"
Her hand instinctively reached out, clutching her chest where the ache had taken root. She wanted to scream, to cry out for all the unfairness in both the game and her life. But no one would hear her. No one had ever heard her. She was alone.
She glanced out the window, the moon shining brightly in the night sky, and for a moment, Emilia imagined herself somewhere else—anywhere but here. She imagined walking, running even, on two strong legs. She imagined a family who loved her, a future that wasn't confined to this bed. But those were just fantasies, as unreachable as the stars outside.
Maybe, she thought bitterly, if I had been more like Adelaide, things would have been different.
But that thought only made her more miserable. She wasn't Adelaide. She wasn't a noble, or a heroine, or someone who could rise above her circumstances. She was just Emilia, the girl forgotten in a hospital ward, cursed with a broken body and an empty life.
The tears started falling again, quietly this time, as she lay back against the pillow.
And in that moment, as her heart ached and her body felt heavier than ever, Emilia whispered to the cold, unfeeling room, "I just wanted to be happy too."
*****
The following day, the sterile smell of the hospital ward was replaced by the muted sounds of paper shuffling and soft voices. Emilia sat in her wheelchair by the window, staring blankly at the sky outside, a dull overcast that mirrored her mood. The pale light filtering in through the glass didn't reach her heart, which had long since grown cold.
A knock sounded at the door, but Emilia didn't turn to look. She knew who it was—there was only one person who would come to visit her for something like this.
"Come in," she said softly, her voice flat and lifeless.
The door creaked open, and a man in a sleek, well-tailored suit entered. His sharp features softened slightly when he saw her, but his expression remained professionally neutral. He carried a briefcase, the usual tool of his trade, but there was an unease in his posture as he walked toward her.
"Miss Emilia," he greeted her, setting his briefcase down on the small table beside her bed. His voice was formal, though, underneath it, there was an undeniable warmth—an old loyalty that hadn't faded with time.
Emilia finally turned to face him, her blue eyes distant. "Mr. Taker, thank you for coming."
The man—Mr. Taker—nodded and took a seat across from her. He carefully pulled out the documents from his briefcase, placing them on the table between them. His fingers hesitated for just a moment, but Emilia caught it.
"You've always been good at your job, Mr. Taker," Emilia said with a slight smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You don't need to hesitate now."
Mr. Taker's eyes flickered, his professional facade cracking for just a moment. He knew Emilia better than most—he had been by her side for years, ever since she had risen from the ashes of her family's betrayal to build something of her own. She had trusted him with her business, her finances, her secrets. And now, she was trusting him with the end of it all.
"I just..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I just want to be sure you're making the right decision. Are you certain about this, Miss Emilia?"
Emilia's lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced down at the papers in front of her. They were documents detailing the transfer of all her assets—her company, her investments, everything she had built from the ground up—to various charitable organizations. Once she signed these, there would be nothing left. She would leave the world with nothing.
"Yes," she said, her voice firm despite the weight of her decision. "I've made up my mind."
Mr. Taker hesitated again, his brow furrowing in concern. "I've been with you for a long time, Emilia. I've seen what you've built. All of this... it's yours. Are you sure you want to give it all away?"
Emilia's gaze drifted back to the window, her eyes unfocused as memories flooded her mind. She thought of her family—the ones who had taken her in as a child, only to discard her when they found out she wasn't their blood. She had given them everything—her loyalty, her love, her time. She had even been foolish enough to think they accepted her, that she had a place among them.
But all of that had been a lie.
Her brother had been the one to push her down the stairs that fateful day. She had caught him with the real daughter of the family—the one they truly loved, the one they cherished above all else.
And when he had seen the disgust in Emilia's eyes, he had lashed out. She could still remember the sensation of falling, the searing pain that tore through her body as her legs shattered beneath her.
From that moment, her life had been over.
"I was foolish, Mr. Taker," she said softly, her voice distant as she stared out at the gray sky. "I believed that they loved me. That they cared about me. But I was just a replacement, a stand-in for the daughter they truly wanted."
"I gave them everything," Emilia continued, her tone bitter now. "When I found out the truth, I didn't fight for the inheritance. I didn't try to take what was mine. Instead, I left and built something of my own. I created a business empire from the ground up. I became successful. But in the end... it was all for nothing."
She paused, her fingers tightening slightly on the arms of her wheelchair.
"I was so stupid to believe that they would ever accept me. And even after I left them behind, I was still haunted by that rejection. I kept thinking that maybe if I built something great, they would regret what they had done. That they would see my worth."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she blinked them away, refusing to cry. Not now. Not in front of him.
"But they never did," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And now, none of it matters anymore. The money, the power, the success—it's all meaningless."
Mr. Taker exhaled slowly, his hands resting on the papers in front of him. "I understand why you feel that way, but you've worked so hard for this. Don't you want to leave something behind? For yourself? For your legacy?"
Emilia shook her head. "What legacy, Mr. Taker? I'm alone. I have no family, no children, no one to pass anything on to. What would be the point of holding onto all of this when it brings me no joy?"
Her eyes, once bright with ambition, were now hollow, filled with the weight of too many years of pain.
"I've decided," Emilia said quietly but resolutely. "I want my hard work to go toward something good. The charity organizations will make use of it. It will help people. Maybe then, I'll find some peace."
Mr. Taker's jaw tightened as he looked down at the documents, his hands resting on them once more. His expression was conflicted, but he knew her well enough to understand that she wasn't going to change her mind.
"Very well," he said, his voice thick with reluctance. He passed her the pen.
Without hesitation, Emilia took the pen in her hand. She looked down at the papers, her heart steady, her resolve unshaken. This was the right decision. It had to be.
She signed her name with a flourish, her signature clear and bold as if this were just another business deal.
But to her, it was more than that. It was the end of a chapter—a life that had never truly been hers to live.
When she was done, she handed the pen back to Mr. Taker. He stared at the papers for a long moment, the finality of it sinking in. Then, with a heavy sigh, he began to gather them up, sliding them back into his briefcase.
"It's done," he said softly, though there was no sense of victory in his voice. "I'll make sure everything is handled."
Emilia nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over her. The weight of it all was lifting, slowly but surely.
"I appreciate everything you've done for me," she said quietly, offering him a small, sincere smile. "You've been the only person I could trust through all of this."
Mr. Taker met her gaze, his own eyes filled with a quiet sadness. "I only wish there was more I could do for you, Miss Emilia."
She shook her head gently. "You've done enough."
Perhaps, at last, she could let go.
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