Princess’s Struggle for Survival

The cheapest paintbrush on the market should not exceed five silver coins, and the sale of this painting was enough for Amalia to buy nearly four hundred more of these brushes.

"My paintings... Can they really sell for so much money...?" The blonde girl asked in a low voice, clutching the corners of her skirt.

When she first began painting, her purpose was not to make a living from it but to find an outlet for the negative emotions in her heart.

Or rather, she chose to use the brush and paint to relieve the boredom of living alone in the castle.

"Of course, as I said earlier, Miss Amalia's paintings are better than most of the works I have seen from other painters."

Livia leaned her hand on her neck and lifted a strand of long blonde hair that hung down on her shoulders.

The faint lemon fragrance of her hair mixed with the scent of orchids naturally wafted into the air around her.

"The value of a work of art depends largely on the subjective feelings of the buyer. Those who like it may think it is worth a fortune, while those who don't may discard it. I believe Miss Amalia's work is worth this price, which is why I proposed the deal to purchase it."

Twenty gold coins were more than a star and a half cheaper than the masterpieces displayed in her palace.

That is to say, Amalia was not well-known, and the added value to her paintings was not yet significant.

Otherwise, given the level of skill she had shown, the value of her paintings would have been much higher.

Of course, if one were to wait until Amalia succeeded to the throne a few years later and auction off these paintings with some gimmicks, claiming they were painted by the youngest empress in the history of the Valeria Empire, the bid would not only be twenty gold coins but at least platinum coins.

Listening to Livia's answer, Amalia bit her lower lip. Her blue eyes closed slightly and opened again after a few seconds, "I understand..."

"Just do as Miss Livia suggests."

Amalia, while valuing her paintings, was not entirely inflexible.

Painting is a static thing. As long as she had her hands to hold a brush and enough paint, she could create as many paintings as she wished.

Livia smiled upon hearing this. She raised her hand lightly and carefully put away the canvas spread on the desk.

Amalia's eyes deepened as she watched, and her clenched fingers gradually relaxed.

It was clear that Livia truly appreciated her paintings.

"Miss Amalia, you can write down what you need on a piece of paper and give it to me. I will have someone purchase the items according to the list, and all the expenses will be deducted from the transaction amount."

Usually, when meeting and even talking with Amalia, Livia always maintains the image of a mature and gentle older sister.

However, as soon as it involves transactions, she adopts a businesslike attitude.

This shift in demeanor has helped Amalia relax her always-vigilant heart, which usually keeps outsiders at a distance.

"Livia..."

"What is it?"

"If you still want to see more..."

Amalia opened her lips and paused for a moment.

"There are more paintings on the fifth floor."

Sensing the subtle awkwardness and anticipation in Amalia's tone, Livia curled her lips, her voice tinged with surprise.

"Then thank you, Miss Amalia~"

Amalia replied, "No need to thank me."

It was just a transaction. Livia had provided her with many conveniences, allowing her to turn otherwise unspendable money into something useful.

As a seller, she felt it was only right to show some sincerity, giving the other party the freedom to choose the paintings she desired.

Leaving the room with the lamp, the two walked one after the other on the spiral staircase of the castle.

The wick in Amalia's hand flickered between bright and dim, casting a yellowish beam that stretched their shadows long.

Listening to the sound of the blonde girl's heels tapping against the floor tiles, Astrid once again set her eyes on the back of her half-sister.

Amalia was slender, not tall, and had the typical physique of a little girl. Her long, golden hair, smooth as a stalk of wheat, cascaded over a pure white silk nightdress.

The strappy pajamas revealed the girl's round, smooth shoulders, and her snow-white skin glowed like jade in the light.

Amalia was much thinner than she had imagined.

Astrid pondered as they walked. According to Elise's investigation, Hibbort had never withheld daily necessities from his illegitimate daughter.

Could it be that she was simply a picky eater, which stunted her growth?

Thinking of the tall, stern-faced Emperor Hibbort and then looking at Amalia in front of her, Astrid's brows furrowed slightly, a complex feeling stirring in her heart.

A man who bore all the responsibilities of a father to her, yet treated his own daughter with such coldness.

It wasn't hard to understand why Amalia had grown to resent Princess Astrid, the emperor's most favored child.

Livia Valeria, Astrid Calliste, if Amalia were to discover in advance that these two identities were actually the same person, the consequences would be unimaginable.

After a while, Amalia led Livia to the room where she kept her paintings, the circular exhibition hall on the fifth floor of the castle.

Before Hibbort's succession, when the previous emperor of the Valeria Empire, Amalia's grandfather, was alive, he often invited noble lords to the castle for afternoon tea and performances by folk theater troupes.

After his death and Hibbort's ascension to the throne, the castle gradually fell into disuse, eventually becoming the luxurious cage where Amalia now lived.

"These... are all my paintings..."

Standing in front of the dimly lit hallway, Amalia turned around and gestured toward the canvases lining the walls on either side.

With a soft chant of incantations, the lights embedded in the walls flickered back to life.

Livia stepped closer to the canvases, examining them one by one.

The rich colors of the paintings reflected in her clear blue eyes, illuminated by the bright flames of the rekindled lights.

These hanging paintings appeared to be Amalia's early works.

Their style was similar to the one she had just seen, carrying a strong personal touch.

Although the initial painting techniques were somewhat unpolished, it was clear at a glance that they were all created by the same hand.

As Livia walked deeper into the corridor, Amalia's painting skills showed visible improvement.

Livia observed several paintings in succession, her long, straight eyelashes gradually lowering as she took in the details.

Most of the paintings were architectural or landscape pieces.

In addition to depictions of the castle, Amalia had also painted various scenes: enclosed gardens, desolate streets, the ruins of towns at dusk, and the crumbling bell tower square.

One distinctive characteristic of these paintings was the cold, precise brushstrokes that had been present since the beginning of Amalia's creative journey.

She used smooth, clean lines to outline chaotic and dilapidated scenes, with barrenness and loneliness as the dominant tones, creating a powerful artistic impact.

"Miss Amalia, have you seen any of these scenes in person?"

Livia reached out to touch the canvas, but her slender, pale fingers paused just a few centimeters away from the fabric.

She silently lowered her arm and let it fall back to her side.

"No," Amalia replied softly.

Livia's lips parted slightly. "Then you painted these from your imagination?"

Human imagination is rooted in the perception of the material world.

No one can create something entirely detached from reality out of thin air.

In other words, if a specific scene can be vividly depicted, it must be based on some form of reference or patchwork from the artist's experiences or knowledge.

Amalia was a true homebody, and Livia was curious about the source of her inspiration.

"Mmm," Amalia nodded, then added, "Some of it was from books, and some of it I came up with myself."

She had never seen ruins, never witnessed a dry river, and even the bustling streets had faded into a blurry backdrop of her childhood memories.

"...It's a simple thing," Amalia added quietly.

Although she hadn't experienced many things firsthand, she had spent long, solitary years alone in her room.

She knew what it felt like to wipe dust off the hour hand of a clock and had witnessed the entire life cycle of a flower, from its first bloom to its eventual decay.

In the hands of the painter, desolation and dead silence are embodied images.

As long as she holds the pen, Amalia knows how to depict it accurately, and that deep loneliness is hidden between the pen and the dye.

Livia gazed at the girl's crystal-clear turquoise pupils for a long time before looking away and continuing to examine the paintings in the hallway.

She probably understood Amalia's state of mind.

The impact of years of solitary confinement on the future emperor had already permeated every aspect of her being.

While glad that she hadn't blindly followed the plot and given up on connecting with Amalia, Astrid wondered if she was still too late.

Would she truly be able to save this heart that was on the verge of withering completely?

Continuing to walk deeper into the corridor, Livia reached the end in a short time.

Not seeing any portraits along the way, she couldn't help but speak with some confusion.

"Didn't Miss Amalia paint portraits or figures?"

Amalia suddenly remembered something, and a complex emotion surged in her eyes. After a long pause, she spoke slowly.

"I'm not used to drawing humans, so I didn't put them here."

The paintings on the fifth floor were all still vivid in Amalia's mind. Her early training pieces and some works she didn't want anyone to see were all tucked under the bed in her bedroom, gathering dust.

Livia glanced at Amalia a few more times, but the latter's eyes were slightly cold, and her tone gave no indication of whether she was lying or not.