From Shadow to Crown

For three days, Melissa drifted in a feverish haze.

Through the fog, her mother’s final sigh echoed in her ears, and Paul’s resolute back—walking away with Janet in his arms—replayed behind her eyelids.

On the fourth morning, she forced her eyes open. Paul was there, seated vigil at her bedside, his face etched with worry.

Seeing her awake, he spoke, his voice rough. “Your mother has been laid to rest with dignity. The fault was mine. Your father has been… magnanimous. He has agreed to let the matter drop.”

A knife twisted in Melissa’s heart.

Her mother’s family had long fallen into decline. Though the lawful wife, she had been cast aside in favor of a concubine, surviving only because of the ‘son’ Melissa pretended to be.

Now, with her mother gone, her father could elevate that woman without delay. This so-called magnanimity had surely been purchased with Paul’s money and influence.

Silent, she watched as Paul took the medicine bowl himself. He blew gently on each spoonful before bringing it to her lips.

Melissa opened her mouth woodenly and swallowed. The brew was bitterly potent, scraping her throat and forcing tears to her eyes.

“I know you hate the taste. I had some sweet soup prepared for you.” Paul opened the door. There stood Janet, head bowed, obediently offering a steaming bowl.

Melissa glared at her with pure venom. “Get out!”

Paul’s voice softened to a coaxing murmur. “Janet has been unwell herself, yet she still made this almond soup for you. Be good and drink a little, hmm?”

Melissa turned her face away, her expression hardening.

Paul frowned. “Melissa, your mother struck her head on that pillar. Her death was… an accident, a twist of fate. Janet lost her mother too, yet she cooked for you while ill. Won’t you take even a single taste?”

When she resisted, his grip tightened on her chin. He forced her mouth open and poured the soup down her throat.

Melissa gagged, vomiting up the liquid along with the medicine she’d just taken.

“If it’s sweet soup,” she rasped, “why is it bitter?”

Tears sprang to Janet’s eyes. She snatched the bowl back and drank what remained.

“I’ve been helping my mother make sweet soup since I was three. Do I not know sweet from bitter? Why must you always persecute me, Young Master Melissa? Are we common folk just meant to endure your bullying?”

She turned to Paul, her voice catching. “Taste it, Young Marquis. You tell us—is it sweet or bitter?”

Then she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Caught off guard, Paul moved to push her away, but his hands found her waist instead—sliding upward almost of their own accord. Just before they brushed her chest, he jolted back to himself and shoved her away violently.

“What disgraceful behavior!” he barked, though the tips of his ears flushed red. “You are an unmarried maiden. I will not speak of this, for your reputation’s sake, but you must never do such a thing again.”

Janet hung her head, sobbing. “I was just so wronged, I lost my composure. Thank you, Young Marquis, for your kindness in thinking of me.”

Fury made Melissa’s head swim. She grabbed the sweet soup bowl and hurled it to the floor. “Get out! Both of you, get out now!”

Porcelain shards flew. One grazed Janet’s cheek. She whimpered and dropped to her knees.

The sound brought the Academy Master, who was passing by. He pushed the door open, eyes widening at the sight of Janet kneeling on the floor.

“Miss Janet,” he asked in surprise, “what happened to your face?”

Through tears, Janet poured out her grievances. “Young Master Melissa said the sweet soup I made was bitter. When the Young Marquis spoke a few words in my defense, he threw the bowl at me. I truly don’t understand. If Young Master Melissa is a man, why does he always act so… jealous? Could it be the Young Marquis has a penchant for men? Is that why Young Master Melissa…”

The Academy Master’s face darkened with anger as he glared at the two of them.

Rumors in the town don’t spring from nothing. If this were true… this Melissa could not be allowed to stay.

Furious and desperate, Melissa opened her mouth to declare she was a woman.

But Paul stepped in front of her, addressing the Academy Master with deference. “Sir, I treat Melissa as a younger brother. There is no such… unnatural inclination between us.”

Hearing this, Melissa felt all strength drain from her body. She slumped back, utterly defeated.

The Academy Master’s expression eased slightly. He gave a cold snort. “The Imperial Examinations are approaching. Mind your conduct!” With that, he turned and left.

Paul hurried after him to see him out.

The room held only the two of them now.

Instantly, Janet’s tears vanished. She leaned close to Melissa’s ear, her voice a soft, venomous whisper.

“I’ve known you were a girl for a long time.”

Melissa’s body went rigid.

A faint smile touched Janet’s lips. “He waited by my stall for sweet soup every day. And while he waited, all he talked about was you. Your brilliant literary talent, rivaling even Brian’s. Your little tempers—he loved that liveliness in you most. Your fastidiousness, how no one but him was allowed to sit on your bed…”

“His utter devotion… it stirred something in me too. I thought perhaps I could be his concubine. But the moment I saw you—” Her voice dropped lower. “I just wanted you dead. Otherwise, he would never love me in this lifetime.”

Blind rage surged. Melissa’s hand shot out, striking Janet hard across the face.

Janet clutched her cheek, stumbling backward before falling deliberately onto the bed of broken porcelain.

Paul walked back in just then. He saw Janet lying amidst the shards, her plain dress stained with spreading crimson.

Pain flashed in his eyes. He rushed forward and gathered her up.

“It seems those twenty lashes taught you nothing about restraint.” His voice was cold. “I’ve spoiled you. Today, you will learn some discipline.”

He grabbed Melissa, dragged her from the bed, and forced her to her knees on the sharp, glittering fragments.

Melissa looked up, meeting Paul’s icy gaze. A low, quiet laugh escaped her.

So this was how it felt when a heart died. You couldn’t feel the pain anymore.