The only ones that had escaped Tristan's wrath were the glass cabinets filled with high heels. Every time Tristan waved her hand, she deliberately avoided those cabinets.
After venting for a while, Tristan finally calmed down a bit.
Once calmed, Tristan furrowed her beautiful brows.
"It seems Mother is quite concerned about the Prophecy Child. What's going on?"
As the queen's adopted daughter, Tristan had noticed something off about her mother.
"Is it because of that prophecy?" Tristan muttered to herself, saying, "Could Mother really believe in such things? Aren't they just the foul and filthy words left by the Mirror Clan's scum before being burnt to ashes?"
As this utterance left Tristan's lips, a voice suddenly rang out and reached her ears.
"What foul and filthy words are you referring to?"
On hearing this voice, Tristan came back to her senses.
"Is that you, Beryl?"
Tristan approached a mirror and smiled at the reflection.
