Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 202

Chapter 202: Mother
Rohzivaan’s breath hitched as he tried to sit up, his body aching in ways he couldn’t understand.

His surroundings were bathed in golden lights and light orbs flickering in the air like living embers.

The scent of flowers and morning dew clung to the space, the walls woven with vines that pulsed with a quiet luminescence. It was a paradise, but not one he recognized.

The woman sitting on the couch near his bed held an old book in her delicate hands, her fingers slowly flipping through the pages as if she had all the time in the world.

She had long, wavy silver hair that cascaded down her back, shimmering under the soft glow of the room. Her eyes, a piercing shade of violet, flicked up from the pages to meet his.

“Who are you?” Rohzivaan’s voice was hoarse, his throat dry. His instincts screamed at him, warning that something wasn’t right, yet there was a strange familiarity about her.

The woman chuckled softly, a sound so light and melodic it sent shivers down his spine.

She closed the book with a gentle thud, resting it on her lap before tilting her head at him. “My own son cannot even remember me?”

His body tensed. His heart pounded erratically in his chest. He narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

This time, the woman laughed, the sound like a wind chime swaying in the breeze. “If not your mother, then who am I?”

Rohzivaan felt his blood turn cold. He had no memories of this woman.

The mother he knew was someone entirely different, someone who raised him with cold expectations, someone who rarely offered warmth or comfort.

Yet, the woman before him radiated a presence so serene, so nurturing, that it made something deep within him stir.

“Impossible,” he whispered, almost to himself.

The woman sighed, placing a hand on her chest. “Indeed, I might have been gone for too long, but it won’t change the fact that I gave birth to three boys.”

Her eyes darkened, her expression sharpening as she leaned forward. “Did that woman, the one you call mother, poison you enough to forget about me?”

Rohzivaan’s hands clenched the sheets beneath him. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to entertain the thought that the life he had always known was built on a lie.

Yet, deep within him, a small voice whispered that the woman before him wasn’t lying. Her presence, her scent, her gaze, it all felt like something buried deep within his blood.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked, his voice almost betraying the storm brewing inside him.

The woman, Fiorensia, smiled, but there was sorrow in her eyes. “I am your mother. Your birth mother. I am Fiorensia.”

The name felt foreign on his tongue, but when he let it settle, a strange warmth pulsed in his chest. He didn’t understand. How could this be?

Memories flashed through his mind, the strict upbringing, the lessons, the grueling training, the constant feeling of being unwanted by the very mother he had known all his life.

Was it all a lie? His mind reeled.

Fiorensia watched him closely, as if waiting for his thoughts to catch up. She didn’t press him, didn’t force him to accept the truth immediately. She simply waited, her gaze unwavering.

Rohzivaan swallowed hard. “If you are truly my mother, then why are you here? Why were you gone all this time?”

Her smile faded, and a shadow passed through her expression. She exhaled softly, as if releasing years of pain. “Because I was taken away. Because I was erased from your lives.”

“By whom?” His voice was sharper than he intended, but he needed to know.

Fiorensia’s violet eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous swimming beneath their depths. “By the very people who raised you.”

Rohzivaan’s breath caught in his throat. His father. The woman he had always called mother. His entire world tilted.

Fiorensia stood up, the long silver gown she wore flowing behind her like a river of moonlight. She stepped closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

“You may not remember me now, my son, but I will help you remember. I will help you see the truth hidden behind the lies you were forced to believe.”

Rohzivaan didn’t move. He couldn’t. His body felt paralyzed under the weight of her words. The truth. Could he handle it?

Would he survive knowing that everything he thought was real was nothing but an illusion?

His hands trembled as he slowly reached up, covering Fiorensia’s hand with his own. It was warm. Real. Alive.

“…Tell me everything.”

Her lips curled into a small smile, one filled with both sorrow and relief.

“Then listen well, my son,” she whispered, her voice laced with the weight of centuries. “For the truth is far more terrifying than you can ever imagine.”

Fiorensia’s fingers traced gently against his cheek before she pulled away, standing before him with an air of quiet dominance.

Rohzivaan’s breath came unevenly, his entire body tense as if rejecting the truth she had just spoken.

She turned away, gazing out through the enormous glass windows that overlooked an endless garden filled with glowing flora.

The air shimmered with magic, carrying the scent of something both familiar and unknown.

“I was taken from you when you were barely more than a child,” Fiorensia murmured, her voice steady yet heavy with emotion.

“Your father, the Northern Duke of Sinalta, and the woman he chose to replace me made certain that my existence was erased. My name was struck from history, my presence wiped from your memories. And yet, blood remembers, my son.”

She turned to face him, eyes alight with something fierce. “You remember me, even if you do not know it yet.”

Rohzivaan’s fingers clenched into fists. “Then why return now?”

Fiorensia smiled, slow and knowing. “Because the pieces are moving. The game has begun. And the one thing they fear most is already in motion.”

Rohzivaan stiffened. “And what is that?”

Fiorensia stepped closer, pressing a hand to his chest. “You, my son. And the woman you love. Ahcehera.”