Abandoned Empress's Survival Manual Beside the Male Lead - Chapter 82

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 82
* * *
The castle erupted into chaos.
I threw a shawl around myself and rushed to Ratku, breathless. “Ratku. Find Atil. Where is he? Is he nearby?”
“Ah, that little runt’s gone missing!”
Ratku’s ears shot straight up on either side of his plump head, quivering with fury before drooping back to slap against his cheeks.
He was furious — his whole body trembled with it.
His ears, longer than his own torso, stood rigidly outward, then sagged and smacked his face.
“Such an emotionally deprived little brat! Emotional deprivation! Emotional deprivation!”
“You mean he’s emotionally neglected?”
“Ratku!”
He launched himself skyward with a ping, his fat ears fluttering in place of wings.
“That stubborn brat’s in a hole!”
Ratku returned moments later with this news.
“A hole?”
My brow furrowed.
Had he fallen into a trap?
I didn’t understand, but I followed the direction Ratku pointed without hesitation.
Only when gravel crunched beneath my feet did I realize I’d bolted outside without even stopping to put on shoes.
“Your Grace!”
Briget came running from behind. The moment she saw me, she dropped to her knees.
“Briget?”
“I’ve brought your slippers, Your Grace. Please do not forget that to this Briget, you are the most precious being in the world.”
“Briget……”
“Hush, Your Grace. Say nothing. This Briget understands all.”
I was deeply moved.
How could such perfect composure exist in this world?
She was called a handmaiden, but she had the bearing of a perfect woman who could stand as the hero’s love interest without shame.
Thick quilted cotton covered the top of my foot, and the soft fabric inside warmed each frozen toe.
With each step, the padding compressed beneath my sole before rising again.
The moment I slipped on the fluffy slipper, my mind cleared.
“Ratku says that stubborn little thing deserves a beating. I tell you truly, truly — I can’t stand him! Unforgivable! Unforgivable!”
‘Where does he even learn such words?’
In any case, I walked dutifully in the direction Ratku’s ears pointed, and soon reached the pit at the far corner of the Garden.
When I bent down, Briget quickly held up a lantern.
“Good heavens……”
All the handmaidens and knights who had followed let out soft gasps.
My heart sank.
“Atil.”
Atil was huddled in the bottom of the pit.
His face buried between his knees, both arms wrapped around his head.
This small, curled form — it was as if this child had learned nothing from the world but how to hide.
“Atil……. Why are you in a place like this?”
Atil didn’t answer. He only looked up at me with eyes half-shut with sleep.
“Is this a trap? Did you get caught?”
I asked genuinely perplexed, but Atil’s face only went pale — he said nothing.
Then Erichi spoke.
“Your Grace, this isn’t a trap — it’s a refuge. The kind miners commonly make in coal mines.”
Erichi gasped the words out, having rushed to catch up. My ears pricked at the unexpected word.
“A refuge?”
“Coal mines can collapse without warning, Your Grace. Miners make these shelters throughout the mine to prepare for emergencies.”
“……So Atil built this many refuges all throughout the Garden?”
Even as I asked, I felt as though my chest was being slowly carved open. It was a pain beyond the word “hurt.”
‘So it wasn’t a trap after all.’
Atil hadn’t been trying to defend against Sherkan.
Instead, he had been building places to escape to.
Because the world could collapse at any moment. Because that’s what the coal mine had taught him.
And on nights when he was frightened, he would crawl into this earthen pit instead of his warm bed and curl up.
Today, after watching me collapse right before his eyes, he must have been even more terrified.
I pressed my lips firmly together, then slowly began to speak.
“Atil. Did you already forget what I said?”
She continued in a deliberately angry voice.
“I collapsed because I was exhausted from Erichi’s antics. Isn’t that right, Erichi?”
“Yes, ma’am! I was wrong, Grand Duchess! Please punish me!”
Erichi dropped to his knees at once.
The two eyes of Atil, looking up at her, were unusually wide and hollow—like a skull’s sockets.
A crouched, lifeless skull.
“If you won’t come out, then I’ll go in. Atil, you once told me I was like a princess, didn’t you? It’s not easy for a princess to go into a place like this. But I’m going in because I really love the little one inside.”
With that, she descended into the pit.
Her feet sank into the wet earth up to her ankles, and the hem of her nightgown dragged along behind her.
“Ah… ah….”
Atil, startled, tried to come out, but she was quicker.
She crouched down in front of Atil and pressed her forehead against his small brow.
“Don’t hide in a place like this.”
Atil’s eyelashes trembled slightly.
“If you’re scared, come to me. You can sleep with me.”
Atil looked at her.
“Grand Duchess….”
“Shall we go to bed?”
“Mm….”
And then, truly, Atil collapsed into sleep in her arms.
She lifted Atil, cradling him, her expression complicated.
A thought occurred to her then.
‘So Atil has survived after all—unlike what happened in the original story.’
She would do her best to raise him until he could safely return to his parents.
She pressed her lips to Atil’s forehead.
* * *
The next day.
Atil, waking early, clung to her side without letting go. Throughout dinner, through his bath, through changing into his nightclothes, he followed her everywhere.
Of course, his hands were so small that he could barely grasp even a handful of cloth.
“Atil, step back a little.”
“Okay!”
Yet Atil answered loudly and pressed himself against her leg once more.
Seeing the thin bones of the child’s small hand brought old memories flooding back.
A few months before her death, her own hand had looked exactly like this. No longer able to eat, sustained only by IV fluids, all that remained of her body was bone and skin.
That was when she understood.
Ah, this was what a hand looked like before death.
Back then, whether from exhaustion after so many months of terminal decline, or from having already completed and completed again the long work of emotional preparation, she had felt no particular pain.
But now, watching this small child whom she had known for only a few months in this world, she felt a deep sorrow.
Considering that this five-year-old had originally been remarkably mature, this clinginess somehow made her heart ache all the more.
“Atil.”
“Yes!”
She laid Atil directly on the bed and pulled the thick quilted blanket up to his chin. His small body disappeared entirely into the covers.
“What would you like to eat tomorrow?”
She smoothed his forehead and tried to stand,
but her sleeve was caught.
“Atil?”
Atil looked up at her.
“What is it?”
“Um….”
“…?”
His face bore the look of solemn determination—the most grave expression a five-year-old could muster.
“Grand Duchess.”
“Hmm?”
Atil reached his hand beneath his pillow.
Then he withdrew a crumpled sheet of paper and carefully offered it to her with both hands.
“What is this?”
She took the paper, puzzled.
Creases from countless foldings and unfoldings. Corners worn smooth and shiny from being handled.
When she unfolded the paper, her eyes widened.
The moment I read what was written there, I nearly cried out.
Only two lines were inscribed on the paper.
[Please don’t throw me away.
Please don’t throw me away.]
……
Not written in ink or with a quill, but in charcoal—stark black charcoal.
The letters of a child just learning to write, pressed down with all their might, each stroke deliberate, not a single line out of place.
“Did you write this letter for me?”
“Yes.”
“When did you write something like this……?”
……
Unable to make any request, unable to throw a tantrum…….
These few words were all that Atil had been able to say.
Black powder transferred to my fingertips as I held the paper.
He must have touched it so many times that the writing came off on his hands.
He’d have slept on it every night, unable to give it to me—afraid that if he showed it, I might truly tell him to go away.
And now, Atil had placed it into my hands with his own will.
……
Atil was watching me.
Holding his breath, his face wore the expression of one waiting for the most terrifying answer in the world.
What answer was Atil hoping for?
No.
What answer had he been praying, over and over, to receive?
Suddenly, I could see nothing but my own reflection from three years ago in Atil’s eyes.
My life as Lorelletiana—desperate not to die, warmed by the love of family, yearning to live, wanting to cry out that no one should abandon me.
And wasn’t the one thing I had wanted to hear back then always the same?
I reached for the charcoal on the table.
My hand came away blackened with powder, and I found myself laughing.
Before Atil’s eyes, I turned the paper over and pressed the charcoal against it.
Just as this small child had done—each stroke careful, not a single line out of place.
The scratch of charcoal against paper rang out through the room with unusual clarity.
[I will never abandon you]
Atil’s eyes widened. He looked back and forth between the paper and me. Again and again.
“Here, this is my reply.”
Tears welled up in Atil’s eyes, glistening and full.
“Now this paper is a letter with a reply.”
“Ah……”
“And remember, Atil—a princess never lies. You know that, don’t you?”
Atil lowered his head and answered shyly.
“Yes……”
I smiled and carefully folded the paper, then slipped it back under Atil’s pillow.
“When you grow frightened, take it out and read the back. My words won’t fade away.”
Atil swallowed hard, hiccupping. His lips trembled as if he wanted to say more, but with his flushed face glowing, his eyes slowly closed.
Was this what parents felt, tending to a child sick with illness?
It was something I could never have known before.
I too drifted to sleep beside him, fingers still held within Atil’s small grasp.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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