Ruin Of Liliac Lina

Once upon a time in the many eras of eternity, there lived a princess in a small flower town with loving parents. Life was filled with good moments of peace and happiness in the family. Until her father, the king, died. And the queen developed a very concerning interest in random men overnight. She grieved herself into a deep, reckless life, and her beautiful daughter into a deeper, somber, lonely, and abandoned life. The little girl stayed lonely by herself all day, left to the care of a nanny who died months later. Kids no longer agreed to play with her. She got insults regarding the kind of life her mother was living. She was alienated in school, everywhere. And though the little girl didn't understand what depression meant, she felt it first. This continued, though not for very long, until her uncles came and took over the palace from her mother. Her mother left with little to no care for her anymore. She married the eldest one to maintain her status as the queen, while her daughter became a maid in the palace. To cut the long-suffering story short, the little kingdom, which had been filled with peace and had flowers as its major source of livelihood, eventually became a kingdom whose major supply was weapons of war. The princess also grew up and spent almost her whole life at the border, fighting the enemies the arrogant king had made for the kingdom. Hah. What a spectacularly probing piece of garb—! I slammed the book shut and hurled it straight into the lake before me. I just wanted an escape. Why are all the stories in this place so sad and useless? And even more saddening is the nagging fact that my life, my very own fate, seems to have a fond interest in scripts like this. Oh, poor Lina. You see your life? "Pearl, why you bring me here?" I turned to my even poorer maid beside me. "I just brought you here so that you can take a break and see the world outside, Your Highness," she said. "Pearl, do you like to mock me?" "No, Your Highness." She shook her head vigorously. "It's not... it's not like that." "Then why do you keep addressing me as 'Your Highness'? I am the least regarded princess in this kingdom, we even trekked to this place, and you keep shoving it in my face every time you mention 'Your Highness'." "I'm sorry, Your Highness," she replied yet again. "I said don't call me royalty. It's Lina. I am Liliac Lina. I'm okay with that." "Yes... Lina," she responded. "Good. Now let's leave this bookstore. I need to go back home." "But, Your Highness—" She cut herself short and closed her mouth. "Pearl, is it so hard to mention 'Lina'?" She ducked her head down and mouthed, "I am sorr—" "Let's roll." I interrupted. We moved on home. On the way, she asked, "But, Lina, your sister should have been back by now. Do you not want some time out and some peace and quiet first?" "No," I replied curtly. "Okay... Also, I specially selected that story for you... Didn't it touch your heart?" she asked again, tentatively this time. "I don't need anything touching my heart right now. I need something to touch my stomach instead. I am famished. So I don't need nothing on my heart; I need it in my... in my belly!" She sniffed a laugh behind me, and I just snorted. "I have some roasted flour here with me." She brought out a wrapped package from her coat. "You say roasted WHAT??" I turned to her immediately. "I said ro... roasted flour," she said, and before I could even fire her with, "How is that even possible? What am I supposed to eat in a roasted floor?" She hurriedly replied, "It's a kind of snack. I learnt it from my maternal great-grandmother. She lived a little bit too long, so I was able to learn a thing or two from her. And roasted flour was one of them. She usually made it like this—" "No, no, no, no. I don't want to hear it. I don't. Is it eatable?" "Yes," she replied. "It's very eatable. It's actually tasty. You will like it." "Just hand it over. I don't want to start receiving cooking lectures right now. I didn't sign up for a class." She chuckled and handed it to me. I stared at it for a few seconds. Well, it doesn't look bad. And it looks like they've got some other... what will I even call it... other mixed sweet-sweet things that they put in it, including fish and some fried sauce. Well, there's no harm in trying something for the first time, right? I took a bite. Oops, wait............!! wait........!!!! I savoured the taste, swallowed, and took another bite. Oh gracious—! This. Is. Delicious! It's so good! Does she have another one? "Oh my goodness, you actually make sense, Pearl!" "Me?" she asked. "Oh, sorry. I mean flour. I mean the... the roasted flour. Whatever this is. It makes so much sense! So delicious. Do you have more?" "This is the only one. The other one I already... I already ate half of it." "It doesn't matter. Bring it. Give it to me. Give it to me! When we go back to the palace, I promise you, I'm going to give you half of my food. That's if I get any today." "But, Your Highness, you promised me that last week. You didn't give it to me." "Your Highness again?! Because of you calling me 'Your Highness', I would not give even this one to you." "Then I will not give you my remaining roasted flour!" "Ooh! Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I will give you the food, okay? You can call me 'Your Highness', the queen of the world. Just give me the flour!" "Hmph! Alright." She squeezed her face and gave me the flour. Pearl frowned and pouted all the way home. Before we entered the gate, I paused and turned to her. "Pearl...?" I called out. "Hmm?" "This roasted flour of yours tastes very divine. But it seems like something that can easily become a regrettable life choice with one single mistake in the preparation. Am I right?" "Oh, absolutely!" she affirmed, instantly perking up at the chance to talk technique. "You have to be incredibly meticulous and precise while preparing it. To get the heat exactly right, you have to hold the roasting stick precisely three inches above a very mild, whispered flame. Then you weigh out exactly ten palm-fulls of flour at a time, compressing it under a sixty to sixty-five percent temperature threshold—" "Okay, okay, okay! I've heard! Mercy, please? I don't want to hear anymore. I didn't say you should teach me how to make it. What I am suggesting is, let us make a wicked version of this for Jelly. For her crazy twentieth birthday. And serve it to a few of her friends as well. Those that don't like to mind their business whenever they see me. What do you think?" She snapped her fingers. "Perfect, Lina! You are actually making sense today. What a sweet revenge!" I paused, raising an eyebrow. "Making sense today, Pearl?' Oh, my grand, benevolent self. Remind me again—who is the princess here and who is the servant?" "I am the servant, Your Highness," she replied with a mock bow. "But, I thought you already expressed your displeasure at such prestige?" I clamped a hand over my face, letting out a defeated groan. "You know what? Forget it. Whatever. I have just officially hit my absolute limit with Jelly's endless, nauseating birthday announcements these past few days. It's like everyone forgot that it's my birthday as well. But because no one cares about my existence, so I am officially going to match her energy for once!"