Free Web NovelChapter 453: Merisa POV
Merisa POV
Merisa sat on the cold stone of the courtyard floor, unmoving, as if even the act of breathing required more strength than she could spare. The world around her felt distant, dulled at the edges, like sound muffled beneath deep water. Her gaze remained lowered, fixed on nothing and everything at once, while her mind struggled again and again to circle back to the same truth Nova had forced into the open. It refused to settle. It refused to be accepted cleanly. It tore instead, slow and persistent.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the object in her hand.
A deep royal-purple crystal, shaped like a droplet.
Razeal’s blood essence.
It rested against her palm with an unnatural stillness, its color rich and heavy, as if it carried more than just blood something final, something severed beyond repair. She stared at it, her pupils trembling faintly, unable to look away.
At the time, she had dismissed it.
A mistake. A childish outburst. A son acting out of wounded pride and immaturity. She had believed he simply did not understand the weight of what he was doing.
But now
Her fingers tightened, almost imperceptibly.
No.
He had understood far more than she ever had.
"We were wrong..." she whispered inwardly, the thought forming with a quiet, unbearable clarity. "No... I was wrong."
Her gaze dropped further, settling fully on the crystal resting in her palm.
"We deserved this."
The words did not come with anger. There was no fury in them only a hollow, exhausted acceptance that felt far heavier.
A slow tremor passed through her eyes.
She had not even changed her clothes.
The fabric clung to her form, stiff and darkened where blood had soaked through her blood. Though the wound Nova had inflicted had already healed, flesh knitting itself back together with unnatural precision, the stains remained. A silent, stubborn reminder. A mark that refused to fade as easily as the injury itself.
As if pain, unlike flesh, did not obey the same rules of regeneration.
The room had long since emptied. Nova and Selena were gone, their presence leaving behind only silence.
The vast courtyard now held only two figures.
Merisa... and Marcella.
Marcella stood a respectful distance away, posture straight, hands folded lightly before her. She had not interrupted. Had not intruded. Only watched quietly, attentively her gaze occasionally flickering toward the matriarch with restrained concern.
Earlier, she had been alarmed deeply so by the severity of the wound Nova had inflicted. The sight alone had been enough to unsettle even her trained composure. But when the injury had healed on its own, seamlessly, almost as if it had never existed... she had chosen silence.
Her surprise had remained behind the thin lenses of her glasses, unspoken, carefully buried beneath discipline. She was curious how her lady did that but she didn’t questioned it.
Now, she exhaled softly.
"My lady..." Marcella’s voice entered the silence gently, cautious, as though afraid even sound might fracture what little stability remained. "Please... do not hold this against Lady Nova."
Merisa did not respond. Not outwardly.
Marcella continued, her tone measured but sincere. "She mustve been... overwhelmed. Her emotions.." she hesitated briefly, choosing her words with care, "they exceeded what she could contain. What happened... it was not reason guiding her."
A pause.
"I am certain she never intended to do what she did."
Merisa’s fingers shifted slightly against the crystal.
"She has always been... impulsive," Marcella added quietly. "And this.. today this must have struck her deeply...." She said from the side, as if trying to comfort her, she thought first her son had already left, and now this... She must be in shock. And then her own daughter tried to kill her. No mother, no matter how strong, could bear something like that.
She lowered her gaze slightly.
"I’ll deal with her when she comes back and has steadied herself. And I’m sure she’ll apologize to you for what happened today," Marcella said with a soft sigh.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then Merisa finally spoke.
"I understand her."
Her voice was calm but hollow, as though something essential had been carved out of it.
Marcella lifted her head slightly.
Merisa’s eyes never left the crystal in her hand.
"I would have wanted the same," she continued softly. "To find someone... to place the blame upon. To shift the weight... away from myself."
A faint, bitter curve touched her lips something that resembled a smile, but carried none of its warmth.
"And in truth... she was not wrong to do so."
Marcella’s expression tightened slightly.
"It is fine," Merisa said, almost absently. "There is no need to punish her."
Silence followed again, thicker than before.
Marcella exhaled quietly, though she did not argue.
Time seemed to stretch.
Then, after what felt like an eternity suspended in stillness, Merisa spoke once more her voice lower now, almost lost to the air.
"...I really would have done the same."
A pause.
"...for the sins I have committed."
The words did not tremble.
They settled.
Marcella’s brows drew together faintly, concern surfacing more clearly now.
"My lady... it was not your fault."
Merisa did not move.
"No one could have known," Marcella continued, her voice firmer, though still respectful. "What occurred... it was as if bad fate. A cruel one, yes.. but not a deliberate failing on your part. It was a mistake... a sad one."
"Even if it was... I am accountable for it. I am responsible for my own child’s destroyed life."
Merisa’s voice came out low, strained, as if each word had to be dragged out of something heavy sitting deep inside her chest. Her fingers tightened slightly around the blood essence, the deep royal-purple crystal catching faint light as her thumb moved across its smooth surface without thinking.
"You don’t know how I am feeling right now..." she continued, her voice softer now, distant, almost detached from the world around her. "My whole world has turned upside down. I... can’t seem to comprehend it."
Her brows furrowed faintly, confusion and pain mixing together.
"It’s... it’s just feeling like... a bad dream." She exhaled slowly, unevenly. "So much that I have to keep touching things... to know that it’s not."
Her fingers pressed against the crystal again, grounding herself in its cold, real presence. Her reflection shimmered faintly within the deep purple surface.
"It’s... I don’t know... it’s just a very hurtful kind of feeling..." she murmured under her breath. "Like I’m hoping... all my senses are wrong... and then I wake up from this cursed dream."
A faint pause.
"I want to..."
The sentence never finished.
Then suddenly
"Like what the fuck just happened...?"
Her voice broke the silence, sharp and raw. She opened her arms slightly, her posture unraveling as frustration surged out.
"How can it go this wrong...? I can’t be this stupid... I can’t..."
There was anger in her voice but it wasn’t directed outward. It was entirely, brutally, turned inward.
Marcella stepped forward slightly, her tone careful, steady. "Sigh... calm down, my lady. It is not entirely your fault."
She hesitated briefly, choosing her words.
"Maybe that incident... left a deep shadow on you. It made you act in ways you normally never would. I... I don’t know, but..."
Her gaze lowered slightly.
She knew exactly what that incident was. And she knew how deeply Merisa despised what her husband had done. That shadow had never truly left her it had only been buried.
Hearing Marcella’s words, Merisa slowly lowered her head.
She didn’t argue.
She didn’t agree.
She just... went quiet.
The room fell into a strange silence again.
Heavy. Pressing.
Uncomfortable.
"I..." Merisa exhaled slowly, her voice breaking slightly again. "Because of me... now my whole family is in ruins."
Her fingers twitched faintly.
"Separated... my son hates me... my daughter tried to kill me just some hours ago..."
A faint, hollow breath left her lips.
"And now me?" she added quietly. "Who hates herself?"
She shook her head slowly, her hand rising instinctively as if to grab her own hair, stopping midway, fingers trembling.
"It’s just..."
Her voice faded.
If anyone from the outside had seen this scene, they wouldn’t have believed it.
Merisa Virelan the head of one of the greatest families in the world, the second strongest existence sitting on the ground like this, broken, unraveling, barely holding herself together.
She looked down at her own hands.
"These hands..."
Her voice softened, but the pain in it deepened.
"I raised him with these same hands."
Her fingers curled slightly.
"I loved him..."
A pause.
"He was born weak. Powerless. Without any mana... without any means to protect himself."
Her breathing grew heavier.
"I was the one who was supposed to protect him."
Her hands trembled.
"And here... I did all this?"
Her voice rose slightly, disbelief turning into something harsher.
"I let some lowborns question him? Mock him? Even beat him?"
Her jaw clenched tightly.
"Do you know how I felt... when we saw him sleeping on a tree?"
Her voice cracked.
"A tree."
Her grip tightened around the crystal.
"And eating just... apples..." her breath faltered, "...just fucking apples..."
"Eating nothing but apples just to survive?"
Her shoulders trembled faintly now.
Her eyes darkened, filled with something heavy.
"And the scars..." her voice shook, her eyes glistening now, "the scars on his body.. he was tortured. Tortured by people beneath him. By those who should not even have dared to look at him twice."
Her head shook faintly, disbelief and anguish intertwining.
"All because he tried to steal food?"
Her voice rose slightly, incredulous, broken.
"My son..." Her breath hitched. "My son had to steal food to survive?"
Each word seemed to wound her further as she spoke it.
"Merisa Virelan’s son..." she continued, almost choking on the title now, "...reduced to searching for scraps like a beggar."
Her eyes burned, her voice dropping again into something quieter, but infinitely heavier.
"He had no home."
A pause.
"No place to return to."
Her fingers curled slightly inward again.
"The boy who should have had everything..." she whispered. "The finest meals. The greatest comforts. The softest beds... the wealth of the entire world at his feet..."
Her voice faltered.
"And having everything this world could offer..."
Her fingers tightened again.
"And I took that away from him."
Silence followed.
"I have failed... I am a disgusting mother."
The words came out hoarse, dragged from somewhere deep inside her chest, stripped of all pride. By the time she finished, her voice had already begun to break. Tears gathered in her eyes without resistance, spilling over as her composure collapsed in silence.
"I will never be able to forgive myself."
Merisa did not lift her head. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, unfocused, as if even the act of looking up had become too heavy for her to bear.
Marcella saw it clearly. The shift was undeniable. The woman who had always stood unshaken now sat shattered in front of her.
Her heart tightened painfully.
She said nothing.
This was not a moment for interruption. She let Merisa speak, let her empty everything she had been holding back. Still, every word landed heavily on her. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as she held herself in place.
It should never have come to this.
What had happened to the young lord should never have happened. If she had seen it earlier, if she had acted sooner, none of this would exist now. The thought lingered, sharp and bitter, but she forced it down.
"I am wrong. Completely wrong," Merisa continued, her voice trembling, unstable. "And still, I am selfish enough to want him." freёwebnoѵel.com
Her hands pressed against the ground as if she needed something solid to hold onto.
"I want to repay him for everything he lost. I want to give him back what I took from him."
Her breathing faltered.
"But no matter how much I apologize, no matter how much I beg... I know he won’t."
Her shoulders shook faintly.
"But I still want to."
Marcella stepped forward then and lowered herself slightly, placing a firm hand on Merisa’s shoulder. The touch was steady, grounding, not forceful.
"Do not worry, my lady," she said quietly. "I trust the young lord. He will understand. Give him time."
The words were calm, measured.
And not entirely true.
She had seen his eyes. The cold distance in them. The restrained hatred.
She knew.
And yet she said it anyway, because right now Merisa needed something to hold onto, even if it was fragile.
"I know he loves me, Marcella," Merisa said, lifting her head slightly. Her eyes were wet, but there was a fragile certainty in them. "I saw it in his eyes."
Her fingers trembled faintly.
"He had the chance to kill me, and he didn’t."
A shallow breath escaped her.
"He loves me."
Then her expression shifted.
"But I have also seen his eyes."
Her voice lowered.
"He does not want to accept that."
Her hand tightened against the ground.
"It is like a lesson he has learned, something he refuses to let go of. If he accepts that he still loves me, still loves us, then everything he went through, everything he suffered..."
Her words faltered.
"It would become meaningless."
Her gaze dropped again.
"And he is right."
There was no defense in her tone.
"After all, I am the one who is wrong here. Not him."
A quiet pause settled between them.
"But that will only hurt him," she continued.
"The lesson he learned is not a light one."
Her voice grew distant.
"It is like a prison."
Marcella remained silent, listening.
"A prison surrounding him," Merisa said. "And he believes those walls are protecting him."
Her lips trembled.
"But they are not. They are only keeping him inside, away from everyone."
She shook her head slowly.
"Even if not me, even if not us, he can hate us as much as he wants."
Her voice steadied slightly.
"But if he stays inside those walls, he will never accept anyone else."
A pause.
"He will never love anyone."
Marcella’s hand remained on her shoulder, firm and steady.
"You know he married a girl," Merisa said after a moment. "But I saw his eyes."
Her gaze sharpened faintly.
"He does not love her."
A breath.
"Or he refuses to."
She exhaled slowly.
"He is holding himself locked inside that prison, trying to act normal. Pretending, maybe. I do not know."
Then softer,
"But I am his mother."
Her eyes lifted again.
"I know what I saw."
Another pause.
"He does not want to give his feelings to anyone."
Her fingers tightened.
"As if letting someone in would hurt him or put him in danger."
She shook her head faintly.
"If he breaks those walls..."
Her voice dropped.
"He is locked, Marcella."
A quiet breath escaped her.
"And it is because of me."
The weight of that truth settled heavily.
"I want to release him from that prison," she said, her voice breaking again. "I care for him."
She turned her head fully toward Marcella.
Her eyes were red, trembling, completely unguarded.
Marcella felt her chest tighten.
She had never seen her like this.
The woman who never bent, never broke, now sat in front of her, reduced to something painfully human.
Not a ruler.
Not a matriarch.
Just a mother who realized too late what she had done.
Marcella still held her, steady and firm, before lowering herself onto one knee so she could meet Merisa at eye level. Her hand remained on her shoulder, not restraining, just anchoring her there.
"It’s alright, my lady," Marcella said quietly. "You are right. Even if he does not want it... we are responsible for all of this. And if that is true, then we are also responsible for fixing it."
Her voice did not rise, but there was weight behind it.
"So do not be afraid."
Merisa’s fingers tightened slightly against the ground.
Marcella watched her closely, then continued, softer now.
"I know what is stopping you. It is not him."
A small pause.
"It is you."
Merisa pupils trembled.
"You think going to him now would be selfish," Marcella went on. "That wanting to help him... wanting his forgiveness... is something you no longer have the right to ask for."
Her tone remained gentle, but precise.
"You feel as if you lost that right the moment you failed him."
Merisa did not respond, but her silence confirmed everything.
Marcella did not look away.
"But you are wrong to think that way," she said. "Forgiveness is not something that exists only for the one who asks for it."
Her grip on Merisa’s shoulder softened slightly.
"If he forgives you... it will not only free you. It will free him as well."
The words settled heavily.
Marcella held her gaze, making sure she understood.
"What is hurting you right now is not only what you did," she continued. "Nor is it only the life he was forced to live because of it."
She shook her head faintly.
"It is the fact that you cannot bring yourself to go to him now."
Merisa’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
"You try," Marcella said. "And every time, the same thought stops you. That you have no right to stand before him. That you have no right to fix what you broke."
Her voice lowered further.
"That is what is truly holding you back."
Merisa’s eyes trembled, growing wetter as the words struck exactly where she had been avoiding to look.
"I..."
The sound barely formed.
Marcella saw it.
She had reached the core.
"But you are wrong, my lady," Marcella said again, more firmly this time.
Merisa’s gaze lifted, confused and fragile.
"Wrong?" she asked quietly. "About what?"
Marcella exhaled slowly before answering, her expression steady, though a faint sadness lingered behind it.
"It is not him we need to pull out of that prison."
She paused just long enough for the words to settle.
"It is the prison we need to take out of his heart."
There was no hesitation in her voice now.
"He built those walls to survive. To protect himself. You cannot force him out of them, and you cannot break them from the outside."
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips.
"But you can show him that he no longer needs them."
Merisa’s pupils trembled, reflecting Marcella’s face clearly now, as if those words had finally given shape to something she had been unable to understand on her own.
"And that," Marcella finished softly, "is something only you can do."
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