History at the Library

Extra (1)

Vivian heard one piece of news directly from Aiden.

Today, the execution date for Count Marten and his sons had been decided. They were to be beheaded one after another with the Duke of Bron.

Vivian was inwardly confused, though she thought they were complete strangers now.

So why did you join the rebellion…

She didn’t sympathize. It was self-sustaining. And Vivian wasn’t a saint who knew how to embrace her persecutors.

They were once bound by the same family. She didn’t dare to say, You did deserve to die. Haha, you died very well! and smile delightfully at their misfortune.

But I knew they’d make an accident.

Her uncle, Count Marten, was a man of superior business skills to his other brothers. However, the flaw was that the desire for power and ambition were endless.

Perhaps it was because he was born as an illegitimate child and grew up in the shadow of the two brothers. His greed was endless and he did nothing to get ahead. Even a young Vivian tried to use it.

The problem is that his family members are all of the same temperament.

She suddenly recalled the days when she was trapped in an attic warehouse at the Marten mansion.

There were two things that Count Marten ordered from Vivian. First, stay as if a mouse is dead until you call. Second, absolute obedience to the family.

The Countess looked up and down at Vivian and said “Ho, that’s pretty even. It’s like a fairy.”

Your purple eyes are mysterious and rare, she added. Vivian was young, but she knew the words were never meant to be compliments.

“You’d better maintain your beautiful appearance. It’s the only reason we didn’t kick you out.”

It was an order from the Count.

She decided the value of Vivian on the spot. She forced herself to take on a child she didn’t want, so she sent a marriage to a high-ranking aristocrat for compensation for the severe damage.

“Why should my family take you on when your parents are dead?”

Leslie, the eldest son of the Marten family, suddenly considered Vivian, who was crushed into the mansion, a thorn in the eye. And he used all kinds of insults, swear words and violence.

Even the servants frowned, and the Countess stopped him.

“Don’t touch her face. It’s going to be expensive one day, but what if you leave a scar?”

On the other hand, Helya, the second daughter, used a more subtle and clever method than Leslie. Vivian was tormented in a secret and extraordinary way that neither the countess nor her servants would notice. It was a warehouse where no one was passing by and locked up for a few days.

But Vivian’s most decisive decision to leave the family came the year she turned 14.

“Vivian.”

The Count did not order Vivian to be flogged from day to day; he did not make her work; he dressed her up, and for the first time, he called her by her name.

“This is Marquis Paura. From now on, you will have a good relationship with the Marten family.”

Then he forced her in front of a middle-aged man on a boat. Young Vivian shuddered unconsciously when Marquis Paura looked at her with a persistent look.

Either way, the count laughed bitterly and pushed Vivian’s back.

As Marquis Paura secretly overlapped his hands on Vivian’s as if he had been waiting, goosebumps rose all over her body as if a bug were crawling over her.

Vivian recalled the rumor about Marquis Paura, who was floating on the streets in a cold sweat. He was very famous for his walls of excitement at the sight of the body.

Vivian really felt a threat to her life at that time. She has a rough idea of what a hopeless future will unfold in the future. Count Marten was trying to sell Vivian to Marquis Paura.

So I ran away.

She abandoned her family and willingly wore a purity ring on her finger. She wanted to protect herself.

Vivian, who briefly recalled her childhood, said ‘Ummm……’ for a moment, scratching her chin, then tilted her head.

‘Can’t she just laugh that they deserve to die?’

At least she thinks they deserve it.

It was when she tilted her head around and wondered how to react to the news of the execution of her wicked relatives.

“Vivian.”

She raised his head quietly at the sound of someone calling her name. Aiden was looking closely at her complexion.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh.”

Vivian nodded her head when she realized that she had been absorbed in her thoughts without knowing that Aiden was worried about her.

Looking at his eyes resembling the blue autumn sky, she was fine, of course, nothing at all.

There wasn’t much emotion left. They were nothing to Vivian, with no resentment, anger, or hatred.

She wasted her time thinking uselessly.

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