Lovesick Beggar

Chapter 1

The cobblestone was cold, and my clothes had been torn to shreds by four men. I clung desperately to the remaining fabric, curling up to prevent them from ripping away my last shred of dignity.

A crowd had gathered around me, watching my humiliation with eager eyes and discussing it with relish.

"I heard she used to be the top performer at Moonview, insisting she would only perform, not sell her body."

"Look at that figure, much more alluring than any courtesan."

"This Laura is truly a beauty. If she hadn't offended Krista, with her prideful nature, we wouldn't have the pleasure of this spectacle today."

"Poor Laura. She worked as a performing artist to support Andrew's studies, but once he became the top scholar of the nation, he turned his back on her and climbed up to the princess..."

"Are you crazy? How dare you say that!" someone nearby whispered urgently.

"Her skin is so fair. If I could just touch it, it would be heavenly."

"And that slender waist, I heard dancers are very flexible, they can do any position."

The lewd comments pierced me like daggers. The crowd's heads bobbed in front of me, some laughing obscenely, others pointing at me, watching my torment as if it were a show.

Yes, death. I wished for death more than anything.

Death would be a release.

Death would turn me into a vengeful spirit, seeking retribution from Andrew and that woman.

I forced my head up, glaring at Krista and Andrew sitting on the high platform.

Krista's lips curled into a smile as she teasingly touched Andrew's face. Andrew, with his eyes closed, trembled uncontrollably.

"Andrew, if she becomes a woman everyone can mistreat, you won't think of her anymore, will you?"

"She's been seen by thousands now. Who would want her in the future?"

Andrew's hands were bloodied from clenching them so tightly. He crawled on his knees to Krista, pressing his forehead to her feet. "My heart belongs only to Princess Krista. I have never loved that woman, not even a little. Please believe me, Your Highness!"

His voice was loud, as if he wanted everyone to hear his declaration.

He said he never loved me, not even a little.

So it was all a lie.

I entered the brothel and became a performing artist to support his studies.

I refused to become a courtesan, remaining chaste for him.

I rehearsed tirelessly every day, never slacking off.

I believed his tender promises: if he became the top scholar, he would marry me.