Chương 79: Chapter 14: "Trapped Between a Collar and a Muzzle”

Celestia von Reingarde stood before the tall mirror of her dressing table, staring at the face reflected there. A pair of sharp, crimson eyes glared back, filled with turmoil. Those eyes were uniquely beautiful, like polished rubies set in porcelain, yet at this moment, she found them utterly repulsive. They were the color of blood. The memory of this afternoon flashed in her mind: a spray of red across her pale hands, the wet warmth of life spilling out onto cold stone. Her stomach tightened.

It wasn't the gore itself that haunted her; she had never been particularly squeamish. What sickened her to her core was the realization that somewhere deep inside, some part of her had enjoyed it.

"This damned backwater world," She muttered under her breath, tearing her gaze from the mirror. In frustration, she paced a few steps across the plush carpet of her lavish bedroom. Moonlight peeked through the half-drawn curtains, illuminating the furnishings that surrounded her: silk draperies, a carved mahogany four-poster bed, gilded lamps. She had been living in the lap of aristocratic luxury for nearly two months now, ever since she awakened as Duke Reingarde's daughter.

Yet none of it brought her comfort tonight. Yes, she tolerated living in this pre-industrial world of adventurers, knights, and magic, but by god, she missed Modern Earth. She missed the electricity, the glow of a phone screen, the endless stream of entertainment and information at her fingertips. Life here was lavish but stifling, devoid of the conveniences she once took for granted. Her restless pacing brought her back in front of the mirror. This time, she forced herself to really look.

Long golden hair, perfectly brushed, cascaded over her shoulders. Delicate features arranged in an undeniably elegant face. Rosy lips and fine bone structure; it was the kind of beauty that painters would beg to look at. It was the face of someone born to high society privilege, and every day since she'd woken up in this body, it had grown a little more familiar to her. She had started to see herself in those refined features, started to accept that this was her face now.

Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table as she stared, unblinking, at her reflection. Why? Why had she given in so easily? And... why had she smiled? The question pounded in her head, an accusation and the dread all at once. This afternoon, even before the third man's life bled out at her feet, she had felt something unexpected rising within her. Something thrilling.

The finality of exerting absolute power over another's existence, of plunging that spear, had ignited a dark spark inside her however briefly. She'd smiled, and it had been real. Even now, recalling the visceral rush of that moment, she felt a shameful heat in her chest. She clenched her jaw. She had never been a sadistic person, and she had never enjoyed mindless violence. She'd certainly never spilled someone's blood with her own two hands until today.

"That wasn't me," she whispered.

"I'm not that kind of person. I'm not…" She pressed a hand over her eyes, as if to blot out both memory and reflection.

"I'm not…" she told herself. But doubt gnawed at the words. In the quiet of her room, with midnight approaching, she wasn't entirely certain who she was anymore. She drew in a breath and tried to gather herself.

"Calm down," she murmured.

"Remember who you are. Remember your life before all this." She forced herself to think back to the time before she opened her eyes in this world. She remembered a skyline of a modern city visible through the windows of a high-rise penthouse. She remembered confidently smiling when walking into a room filled with executives falling silent, as her designer heels tapped and tapped on the floor. She was once the heiress to a major conglomerate. A woman of brains, beauty, and riches. A princess of the corporate world.

A smile tugged at her lips. Yes, she could recall her past life easily. It felt a million miles away, but it was still there, like a hazy dream clinging to the edges of her mind. And yet… Her eyebrows suddenly furrowed. A chill prickled along her skin. There was something crucial missing. She could picture her previous life's lifestyle, her attitudes, and even the exact shade of the lipstick she'd favored. But the simplest thing of all, the foundation of her very identity in that world, eluded her.

Her heart began to pound, a cold spike of panic driving through it.

"My name is…" She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. The name was on the tip of her tongue, but it refused to surface. A blankness filled the space where her name should be. How could she possibly forget her own name? It was absurd, impossible. That name had once been synonymous with power and privilege, a name known to media and competitors alike. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Her pulse raced.

In her mind, she tried to remember more details: a corporate ID card with her photo, but where her name should be, there was only smudged ink; a newspaper headline praising the daughter of the conglomerate family, but the name was blacked out. Every time she tried to recall it, her past name appeared as a void.

"T-this doesn't make sense," she stammered. There was a weight pressing on her chest now, a suffocating anxiety. Her hands, she realized, were shaking. She gripped the ornate frame of the mirror and leaned in, nearly touching her nose to the cool reflection.

"I am… ████████," she tried to say. But the sound that came out of her mouth wasn't a name at all, just a hollow, distorted silence as her lips formed syllables that her mind refused to supply. A strangled sound of frustration tore from her throat.

"My name is ████████!" she cried out, louder this time, almost desperately. Once again, the crucial word refused to appear, leaving only that awful blankness where the letters of her identity should be. Her head felt like it was spinning. Anger and fear warred inside her, and a red haze crept into the edges of her vision. This world, this treacherous webnovel…

"I won't let it erase me," she snarled through gritted teeth. Her hand lashed out, grabbing the first object it found on the dresser-table. Her fingers closed around a delicate glass perfume bottle. Without hesitation, she hurled it at the mirror with all her might. The bottle shattered against the mirror's surface with a sharp crash, exploding into glittering fragments. The mirror itself cracked, a web of jagged lines radiating from the point of impact.

For a moment, silence fell in the room as tiny glass shards rained onto the table and floor. The scent of jasmine perfume rose into the air, sweet and overpowering. She stood there, chest heaving, staring at the fractured mirror. Dozens of broken reflections stared back, each fragment of glass catching a sliver of her face. None of them showed a complete person, only disjointed pieces.

'How fitting,' she thought bitterly. She felt just as fragmented on the inside. As if on cue, something flickered at the corner of her vision. A faint, bluish glow materialized before her. The sudden appearance of the status window felt like it was mocking her.

Her eyes darted over the glowing text, and her breath caught as she read: * Name: Celestia Von Reingarde Race: Human Elemental Attribute: ክዐ፪ጎረጎፕሃ Synchronization: 10% Story Relevance: 13/100 Stats: Strength: H (60/100) Dexterity: H+ (88/100) Speed: H (84/100) Wisdom: F- (15/100) Aura: H- (6/100) Special Stats: Nobility: S+ (101/100) Skills: Noblesse Oblitère (S-Rank) Cooldown: 3 Days Description: Strike infused with Nobility so overwhelming that lesser beings crumble on contact. Damage scales with rank difference.

Plebeians may detonate. Effect: Instantly inflicts massive physical and spiritual damage weighted by hierarchical superiority. Targets may experience fear, humiliation, or sudden existential crisis. * Her heart thumped as she read. There it all was, everything that defined Celestia von Reingarde in numeric form. Only now did she understand the line she disregarded. Synchronization: 10%. Only ten percent, and yet… it had already managed to steal her former name from her. Her nails bit into her palms.

She understood now, synchronization wasn't just some benign measurement. She had been so focused on the threat of Story Relevance that she had overlooked this other insidious gauge creeping up in tandem. That was why she'd felt that twisted excitement: it was Celestia's dark impulses bleeding into her own.

"Hah… Hahahaha…!!" A hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat and escaped her lips before she could stop it. She laughed aloud, almost manically, one hand pressed to her forehead. Her laughter faded after a few seconds, tapering into a heavy silence. she stood panting softly. She lifted her chin and stared at her broken reflection amid the cracked mirror. Scarlet eyes, golden hair, a beautiful face contorted with determination and scorn. Fine then.

If this world wanted her to be Celestia von Reingarde, then she would be Celestia von Reingarde, on her own terms.

"I am Celestia von Reingarde," she declared to the empty room, her voice steady and echoing. There was a fierce, feral grin on her face now.

"The discarded villainess…" Discarded villainess, cast aside in the original story after serving her purpose as a petty antagonist. Celestia's eyes burned with renewed resolve. Synchronization, Story Relevance… she now saw them both as adversaries to conquer. One threatened her existence outright; the other threatened to corrupt her existence into something who she was not. She had to fight on both fronts: to remain important enough to survive, yet not lose herself in the process.

Her gaze fell to a larger shard of mirror that had broken off and landed on the dresser-table. Celestia picked up that shard. The edge bit lightly into her skin, a small bead of blood welling on her thumb where she held it. Real pain; warm, living blood. But it was hers.

"I am Celestia von Reingarde," she repeated softly, almost gently, as she set the shard down. She took a deep breath, straightening her back and staring at the crimson eyes looking back at her in the mirror.

"This is my life," she proclaimed.

"I will not fall to ruin."