Princess's Struggle for Survival

As Astrid was tutoring her maid on elemental theory, in the castle, Amalia sat alone in front of her easel, holding a brush, staring at the canvas for a long time without moving.

Although she tried her best not to let her thoughts wander, the accidental discovery from this morning still lingered in her mind like a small pebble in her boot, constantly irritating her and making it hard to concentrate.

That strand of hair... whose was it...

As an artist, Amalia was extremely sensitive to color differences. She could clearly distinguish the subtle difference between silver and white, and it was hard for her to deceive herself.

If that silver hair really belonged to Astrid, why was it on her bed?

Could it be... that Livia brought it over...

Thinking of the unclear relationship between Astrid and Livia, Amalia lowered her eyes, feeling a pang in her heart.

Reason told her that these two were very different in personality and unlikely to be friends, but her emotions constantly reminded her that Livia had accepted Astrid's submission and was willing to write for her.

Their relationship might be closer than she had anticipated.

Could it be that Astrid's hair had fallen onto Livia's clothes, and the latter had inadvertently left it behind when she came to the castle?

This was the most plausible explanation, and also the one Amalia tried her hardest to avoid and least wanted to believe.

For hair to fall onto someone's clothes, how intimate must they be...

The thought of Astrid possibly holding Livia, burying her head in Livia's neck, and breathing softly made Amalia's heart feel as if it had been pierced by a needle.

All the warmth drained away, replaced by a fierce and rapid cold wind blowing into her heart.

Livia had said she wasn't used to sharing a bed with others.

But was Astrid Calliste just "someone else"?

The more she thought about it, the more suffocated she felt. Amalia clenched the brush, her delicate fingers turning slightly white from the force.

Livia was her sister, and no one else could have her, especially that wretched princess.

Astrid could bully her, but she absolutely could not pretend to be kind and deceive Livia.

Once the conjecture was formed, the small details from their usual interactions suddenly magnified.

Amalia couldn't help but recall the scene last night when she was held by Livia and cried to her.

At that time, she had said she hated Hibbort, hated Lucas, and hated Astrid. Livia had indeed agreed with her, expressing dissatisfaction with the first two.

But when it came to Astrid, Livia's tone had changed, and she had even used the word "before" for the first time.

"The things she did before were indeed terrible."

"I'll make her apologize and compensate you."

This kind of statement made Amalia feel that Livia's relationship with Hibbort and Lucas was more distant, while she was relatively closer to Astrid.

She could even demand that Astrid compensate her.

If she chose to accept, what role would Livia play in this? Or rather, from what position would she force Astrid to apologize?

As a good friend... or something even more intimate...

To make someone as arrogant as Astrid bow her head, being just friends was far from enough.

They likely had some kind of private relationship, which would also explain why Livia had Astrid's hair on her.

They might have eaten together at the same table, embraced while watching the stars, and slept together under the same blanket.

Thinking this far, Amalia's gaze grew darker, and the drumming of her heart echoed loudly in her mind.

She also thought of the red mark she had found on Livia's collarbone last night before resting. That mark, which looked like a bruise or a kiss, was particularly striking against Livia's fair skin.

Could the red mark on Livia's body... also have been left by Astrid...

The image of Livia and Astrid being extremely close, their skin touching, their ears brushing against each other, suddenly popped into Amalia's mind. She unconsciously bit her lip so hard it almost bled.

Closing her eyes, not looking at the painting in front of her, Amalia put down the brush, her hand resting on the palette, her brows tightly furrowed.

Perhaps the one truly competing with her for Livia wasn't the sister she had never met, but the wicked princess Astrid Calliste.

Why wasn't bullying her enough... why did she have to take Livia away too...

A violent emotion rose in Amalia's heart. She thought of Astrid's silvery-white hair cascading over Livia's chest, her delicate body pressed tightly against Livia's.

Livia was the light that had led her out of the darkness. Someone as wicked as Astrid didn't deserve to be with her, let alone have any intimate interactions. This was absolutely unforgivable.

....

On the other hand, unaware that she had been figuratively stabbed by Amalia in her heart, Astrid finished explaining the last point, crossed her arms, and looked at Lyra.

"Is there anything else you don't understand?"

Lyra shook her head vigorously.

"No, nothing else..."

Astrid's explanation was clear and easy to understand, dispelling all the doubts she had had over the past few days.

Seeing Lyra's slightly reddened ears, Astrid blinked a few times and said coldly, "If there's nothing else, go pour me a cup of black tea."

"Yes, Princess Astrid."

With that, Lyra fled the bedroom as if her life depended on it, heading to the tea room in the palace.

Since that incident, Lyra felt increasingly unable to look directly at Princess Astrid. Every time she looked at her, her heart would race, and she would soon blush.

She had really become so strange.

After finishing the black tea Lyra had brewed, Astrid sat at her desk organizing materials and finalizing the size of the newspaper.

Using a ruler to measure and scissors to cut, she created a newspaper page of 285×210mm. Looking at the appropriately sized parchment in her hand, Astrid nodded slightly.

Next was the module division and specific interface design.

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Lyra stood behind Astrid, watching the woman hold a ruler in one hand and a pen in the other, her beautiful face filled with concentration.

She didn't notice she was staring until the ruler clinked against the table, snapping her out of her daze, her cheeks flushing.

Princess Astrid looked even more beautiful when she was focused...

In the evening, after designing the prototype of the newspaper, Astrid, accompanied by her two maids, went to the dining room for dinner.

After finishing, she returned to her boudoir and, hearing that Mary had finished the portrait, went to her room.

"Princess Astrid... this is my painting..."

Mary lifted the curtain covering the painting, her tone tinged with pride.

The woman in the painting wore a high-collared shirt, the white, form-fitting fabric perfectly accentuating her chest.

Below was a deep black pleated skirt, with sheer black stockings covering her long, shapely legs. Her chocolate-colored feet were clad in shiny little shoes, both playful and elegant.

Astrid stared at the painting for a while, impressed by Mary's skill. The painting was almost indistinguishable from reality, even the texture and sheen of the stockings were perfectly replicated.

"Well done," Astrid said.

Pleased with the praise, Mary smiled, her delicate face lighting up.

Astrid: "Keep this style. I need one sitting and one standing pose. The specific size should match the newspaper sample I'll give you later, ensuring a full image fits on one page."

"Understood, Princess Astrid."

After instructing Mary, Astrid returned to her boudoir and waited until a little past 10 PM, making sure all necessary items were ready, before leaving her room and heading to the castle where Amalia resided.

At 10:20 PM, Astrid climbed over the high wall and walked along the garden path in front of the ancient castle.

The moonlight poured down, adding a layer of soft silver to her already silky, silver-white hair.

The temperature tonight had noticeably dropped compared to last night.

Astrid was only wearing a short skirt that reached just above her knees and a pair of thin black tights. After being blown by the wind all the way, her legs felt a bit chilly.

Touching the small bag at her waist, the bitter taste of the potion she had consumed still lingered on her tongue.

Astrid walked slowly to the castle entrance, her gaze shifting to see a golden-haired girl standing at the stairway, exuding a cold and distant aura.

Amalia was wearing a sheer nightgown, her slender figure standing at the intersection of moonlight and shadow.

Her pale, delicate legs were slightly straight, and the snow-white tops of her feet peeked out from her thin-strapped sandals, glowing with a warm, porcelain-like sheen under the silver light.

Amalia hid her face in the darkness, making it impossible to see her expression. Only her signature golden hair cascaded down her sides, the wheat-like strands supporting her soft, delicate body, like petals surrounding a flower's core.

Usually, Amalia would either be painting in her room or washing up in the bathroom. It was indeed the first time she had come downstairs to wait for her like this.

"Good evening, Amalia"