Extra: Yandere Milfs Obsessed with me!-Chapter 59: Dyana: I Hate Myself When I Think of You

Dyana’s Point of View

I was born a Pendragon, in the direct branch of the legendary family, where every heir is supposed to embody excellence and power. My father never stopped reminding us: our lineage tolerated neither mediocrity nor weakness.

My older sister perfectly embodied this ideal. She had awakened the ancestral Pendragon talent, a magical aptitude so rare that it seemed directly blessed by a Seraph and attracted the respectful attention of all the magic masters wanting to take her as a disciple. Compared to her brilliance, I was only a pale shadow.

When my own abilities manifested, I only developed an epic talent related to metal. It was an honorable, practical, and solid skill, but it aroused neither admiration nor respect among our own, after all in a legendary family, the minimum was to have a legendary talent.

The day the evaluation was officialized, my mother looked at me for a long time with a resigned expression. She uttered no reproach, but I preferred her silence to my father’s slap.

That was the beginning of my gradual erasure. The gazes of guests and servants slid over me without lingering, as if I had become invisible.

I was carefully avoided from being mentioned at important receptions, and I was systematically excluded from strategic discussions that engaged the future of our house. Each new success of my sister only further highlighted my insignificance in everyone’s eyes.

One evening, when I was only sixteen, without preamble, I was informed that I would leave the main residence. No explanation was given, and I had no say in the matter.

I was sent to live in a secondary, more modest residence, placed under the supervision of a simple servant. This geographical distance definitively removed me from the circles of power, political meetings, and grand halls where the Pendragon prestige was played out. My banishment, though unofficial, was no less definitive.

The servant who became my guardian possessed a simple and direct kindness. She cared neither for noble intrigues nor for the excessive expectations of my lineage. Under her tutelage, I learned ordinary gestures that my mother would have deemed unworthy, like cooking with my own hands.

I discovered unexpected comfort in the ritual of culinary preparations: the regular rhythm of the knife on the cutting board, the scents of fresh herbs, the comforting warmth of simmering dishes. Cooking became my sanctuary, the only place where I could exist without being judged.

In the evening, I often contemplated the stars, imagining an existence freed from the weight of titles and family expectations. I knew perfectly well that I would never reach the level of great mages, and I had made peace with this reality. Some destinies, I understood, were simply not meant for us.

Years later, they came to fetch me to marry. No one asked my opinion. My father explained coldly that it was a strategic alliance with the Donoghan house. The message was clear: I was only a bargaining chip on the political chessboard.

Duke Randal Donoghan proved to be an upright man, though distant. Not very talkative, he was not cruel for all that. His exclusive passion went to martial tournaments, rigorous training, and lance handling. Military discipline constituted the very essence of his existence. I accepted this marriage without protest, for I had never been taught to refuse.

Over time, I learned to recognize his qualities and limitations. Our union lacked passion, but he never showed me contempt. We each fulfilled our duty, living side by side in mutual respect, but without true intimacy.

The birth of Isabella marked a turning point in my existence. When I held her against me for the first time, this small fragile and dependent creature, a wave of unconditional love overwhelmed my heart.

She became my light in the darkness. When Kris came into the world, I felt the same deep attachment. My children constituted my greatest pride, and their simple presence was enough to give meaning to my days. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Despite this maternal happiness, a certain loneliness persisted. The duke devoted most of his time to military training, managing his domain, and war strategies.

No fault could be reproached in his behavior, but an emotional distance had settled between us. Our marriage was stable, but it cruelly lacked human warmth.

Over the years, I found a certain satisfaction in my functions as duchess and teacher at the academy. I was respected for my mastery of metal magic, for my administrative skills, and for my innovative projects, particularly the modernization of food factories that I had supervised. Students appreciated me for my teaching, and workers considered me a leader who listened to them.

Yet, a part of myself remained asleep. A silent part that aspired to more. I secretly felt the desire for a gaze that would truly see me, for a complicit smile, for a presence capable of disrupting the well-ordered routine of my existence. Sensations that I had, so to speak, never known.

I believed I had definitively buried these aspirations. I was duchess, mother, and teacher, roles that were supposed to fill my entire life and required impeccable conduct. There was theoretically no room for lack.

"I hate myself when I think of you."

Until the day Kaiser burst into my world. His imperturbable calm, his direct way of expressing himself, his assurance... Everything about him seemed to awaken a part of me that I thought was forever asleep.

But at this stage of my existence, I still refused to admit it consciously. I was not ready to face the implications of this realization.

*End of POV*

...

The private bathroom of the palace was silent, isolated from the noises of the outside world. Hot water flowed into the marble bathtub, producing a light lapping, while wisps of steam rose in transparent layers.

Dyana stood motionless in front of the mirror, her hands clenched on the edges of the porcelain sink. Her reflection returned the image of a visibly tired woman, with cheeks that still retained a persistent redness, a physical memory of the events that had occurred.

She breathed deeply, seeking to regain her calm.

It had been exceptionally long and trying. Her mind kept returning to that scene in the restaurant kitchen, where she had watched Kaiser handle the ingredients with absolute concentration.

Each gesture was measured, each seasoning applied with a natural precision that seemed innate. He explained culinary techniques without emphasis, with disconcerting simplicity, and his constant calm inspired immediate confidence.

She had interpreted this assurance as the sign of precocious maturity. She would never have imagined that this professional collaboration would lead to... this situation.

She slightly parted her lips, mentally reliving the precise moment when the situation had derailed.