From Death To Destiny Chapter 1

Parasite.  

 

Even before her memory began, Margarita grew up being called that. Behind their fans that hid their lips, noble ladies exchanged glances and whispered those words among themselves.  

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When she wondered what it meant and asked those around her, they would only offer vague smiles and never explain.  

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It wasn’t until she learned to read that she managed to find its meaning in the Castor language dictionary.  

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1. A creature that attaches itself to another living being and feeds on its nutrients.  
2. A derogatory term for a person who survives by leeching off others without making any effort of their own.  

 

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A parasite living off the Castor Imperial family.  

 

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That was Margarita.  

 

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The only reason she became engaged to Crown Prince Allen was a single fact: she was the last descendant of the Isirian royal family, defeated in the Castor-Isiria succession war. Margarita held the succession rights to the Isirian Peninsula, and to ensure the complete union of the two nations, she had to marry Allen and bear his children.  

 

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Beyond that, she had no value.  

 

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A foolish parasite from Isiria who didn’t even know her place.  

 

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In contrast, Allen was…  

 

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“His Highness, the Crown Prince, is flawless again today.”  

 

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“I heard he’s already mastered ancient Aegean. It’s something most can barely achieve at the age for entering the academy, yet he’s already accomplished it.”  

 

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The same nobles who sneered at Margarita couldn’t hide their servile expressions when they stood before Allen. Amidst the torrent of compliments and admiration, Allen, rather than showing joy, awkwardly glanced around and, upon spotting Margarita, smiled brightly.  

 

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“There you are, Margarita.”  

 

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The cold stares latched onto her as the boy with the radiant smile ran toward her.  

 

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A parasite daring to stand beside the small sun…  

 

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“Get lost!”  

 

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For young Margarita, the overwhelming hatred was too much to bear. In contrast, the affection she received was too small, too fragile, unable to form even the shell of protection.  

 

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“Margarita, what’s wrong?”  

 

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His watery blue eyes shimmered as he looked at her. It turned her stomach. Surrounded by an abundance of love and affection, he still cared about the opinions of a mere parasite. She couldn’t understand him.  

 

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“I hate you.”  

 

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Why are you trying to take even my meager affection?  

 

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You don’t need it. You’re doing just fine without it. The Emperor, the maids, even Margarita’s nanny—all of them loved Allen.  

 

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“Do you think people praise you because you’re actually good? It’s only because you’re the Crown Prince.”  

 

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“Do you honestly believe your swordsmanship is legitimate? No one dares spar with you seriously. If your precious body gets injured, their entire family might be exterminated.”  

 

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Using the excuse of telling him the truth, she hurled harsh words at him. And each time, seeing his hurt expression brought her a fleeting sense of satisfaction.  

 

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Eventually, she started nitpicking everything about him—even the buttons on his clothes. By then, she was no longer called a parasite.  

 

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—The wicked witch from Isiria.  

—The demon sucking the lifeblood out of Castor.  

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Just as Allen no longer got hurt by her cruel words, Margarita also welcomed the infamy. Call her whatever they wanted—nothing would change the fact that she was going to marry Allen and become the Empress of Castor. As long as she had the succession rights, no one could punish her.  

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She thought she could live selfishly like that forever.  

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Until a woman, as beautiful as a spring blossom, appeared.  

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“Ingrid.”  

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She could never forget Allen’s expression as he spoke that name.  

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It was as if he’d discovered a budding sprout at the end of a harsh winter—a smile of pure joy that he had never once shown Margarita.  

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No matter how hidden or shadowed Ingrid stood, Allen would always find her at once. Watching him hesitate, unable to approach because of his status as Crown Prince, lulled Margarita into a false sense of security.  

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“May I ask you for a dance?”  

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“It would be an honor, Your Highness.”  

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Finally, as the two clasped hands and glided toward the center of the ballroom to the sound of the violin, everyone watched them as if under a spell.  

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Foolishly, Margarita was among them. Unable to approach, unable to belong, she felt as though she might suffocate in the waves of happiness she could neither touch nor join, so she simply stood silently, watching the dance from the crowd.  

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But it would be fine. After all, Ingrid was merely the daughter of a baron. Her status was far too low to claim the position beside the Crown Prince. Ultimately, Margarita would become Empress.  

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“I’m thinking of marrying Lady Ingrid Danos to Baron Orlande and keeping her as my lady-in-waiting.”  

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“What?”  

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“That way, you two can see each other often. I learned that the late Empress also kept His Majesty’s concubine as a lady-in-waiting. I support the two of you.”  

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Love? She didn’t need it. It was an emotion she had never received or felt in her life. As the future Empress, Margarita planned to graciously support and accommodate their love.  

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“How could you say something like that?”  

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“What do you mean? I’m trying to help you and Ingrid.”

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Feeling as if she had been insulted, the blood drained from Margarita’s face as she realized her mistake.

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“Are you upset because Ingrid is marrying someone else? But the church won’t allow an unmarried woman to serve as a mistress. The official mistress, or ‘proxy of high society,’ has always been a married woman…”

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“Margarita!”

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It was the first time Allen had ever shouted like that. Even though he didn’t love her, he had always treated her kindly. He was the child who would quietly approach her and offer a handkerchief when she hid in a corner, crying from the nobles’ bullying and mockery. Of course, Margarita would always throw the handkerchief back at him.

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“Maybe I was too hasty. Let’s talk about this next time.”

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But after that day, Margarita didn’t see Allen again. When she came to her senses, she found herself in a small, damp underground prison that wasn’t even the size of the bathroom in the room she used to occupy.

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The abuse and insults from the jailers were incomparable to what the nobles had done. Even so, Margarita endured. They’ll let me out today. They’ll calm down tomorrow. His Majesty will punish him and save me.

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He’s wise, so he’ll quickly realize his place. For the Castor Empire, lacking a strait, the Isirian Peninsula was geopolitically essential. The vast southern granary of Isiria and the mineral-rich Pino Alto Mountain range, perpetually covered in snow—Margarita was a card that shouldn’t be discarded, especially when the northern rebels were wreaking havoc in resistance to the Empire’s rule.

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On the second anniversary of her imprisonment, the jailer informed her that Allen had ascended to the throne and dragged her above ground.

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At last, he’s come to his senses.

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She was filled with dreams of returning to the palace in a splendid carriage, but what awaited her was a decrepit cart with wooden bars.

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“Where is the carriage I’m supposed to ride?”

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Tortured relentlessly, Margarita was no longer the haughty girl she once was. Just standing before the jailer made her shrink like a small animal, and every question she asked was tinged with fear.

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“Where, you ask? This is it.”

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The jailer pointed to the very cart she had dreaded. Struggling against her ominous premonition, she tried to escape, but her body, weakened by her long imprisonment, wouldn’t obey.

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“Let go, let me go. I won’t get on.”

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“Looks like she’s finally lost her mind. Grab her!”

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As soon as she was tossed into the cart like a piece of luggage, the jailer whipped the donkey into motion.

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She had no time to marvel at stepping outside the palace for the first time in her life. The moment they left the palace gates, rotten eggs and tomatoes came flying at her.

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“Witch!”

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“The demon who tried to sell Castor to Isiria is coming!”

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“Die!”

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The raw malice that engulfed Margarita was far beyond anything she had endured when she was called a parasite. The stench made her retch, but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up.

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Unable to steady herself in the jostling cart, she lay down, and her eyes caught sight of something hanging from long poles.

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One, two, three, four… no, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…

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As she absently counted, she realized they were human heads. Margarita vomited blood upon recognizing the faces. They were all familiar. Isirian nobles who had tried to adapt to the Castor Imperial Court. Among them was the Marchioness of Borsene, her etiquette teacher.

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How could this happen? How could they…

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But the worst shock was yet to come. When she saw the head mounted highest on the guillotine’s scaffold, Margarita nearly fainted on the spot.

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Sparse black hair, a deep scar under the left eye, familiar eyebrows, a nose, and firmly pressed thin lips.

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Allen’s mother, Her Majesty the Empress.

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“Hah, hah…”

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She clutched her chest in agony, unable to breathe properly.

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She had heard from the jailer that Allen had dethroned the Emperor, but she hadn’t imagined he had killed him to take the throne. To someone like him, Margarita, merely a fiancée, must have been utterly insignificant.

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All hope was gone. Margarita stood before the guillotine without resistance. Though the gathered crowd hurled insults and jeers, none of it reached her ears.

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“Do you wish to leave any final words?”

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The executioner asked, but she shook her head. She simply smiled faintly and looked up at the sky.

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It’s so clear.

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She felt relieved that the last sky she saw wasn’t dark and damp. She had always missed the sunlight.

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Margarita had been born on the day Isiria lost the succession war. The Castor Emperor had declared that they would spare the royal family if they surrendered, but her father locked the gates and began slaughtering his own family.

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Her dying mother used her last strength to give birth to her. While the King hesitated before the newborn, a maid snatched her and fled. In that time, the Imperial soldiers broke in, and she was saved.

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If only I had died that day. They shouldn’t have saved me. They should have let me die.

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She envied her siblings who had gone before her.

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Now it was her turn to return to her sinful family. Would hell await her at the end? Either way, she wouldn’t be alone this time.

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She closed her eyes and savored the warmth of the sunlight. Just as she took a step toward the guillotine, the ground shook with a loud “boom,” and acrid smoke filled the air.

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“Rebels!”

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“Run, everyone!”

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As she coughed and squinted through the haze, several young men surrounded Margarita.

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