The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe

Chapter 427: Liar

Marina’s POV

Thousands of years in the human continent, long before I even knew Queen Irina or set foot in Verdant Spire, I lived with my mother and Deva in the high-class society of Stoneveil.

It was a city of towering spires and cobblestone streets, of aristocrats and merchants and courtiers who spent their days scheming and their nights indulging in excess.

We had a grand house there, a mansion with more rooms than we could possibly use, filled with servants and luxuries that most people could only dream of.

But luxury was not the same as love. I learned that lesson early.

"You both need to look your best for the event, you hear?" Mother had told us, pulling out different dresses from the wardrobe with enthusiasm.

Her hands moved quickly, tossing garments onto the bed in a cascade of silk and velvet and lace. "The Duke of Ashford will be there, and he has been asking about you two. He is very influential, you know. A good connection to have."

Deva was clinging to my leg, about 4 feet tall then — a small, timid child with wide eyes and a nervous disposition.

She had always been the more sensitive one, the one who sought comfort and reassurance in the face of Mother’s overwhelming energy.

We were currently in my room: the large, luxurious space with thick red carpet that swallowed our footsteps, heavy curtains that blocked out the afternoon sun, and a bed far too large for me and Deva’s size, its canopy draped in silk and its pillows piled high like a mountain of softness.

As usual, our mother was clad in an extremely sensual manner, wearing something that hung on her body but was very see-through.

The fabric was so sheer that it defeated the purpose of clothes entirely, offering no modesty and no pretense.

It was the kind of outfit that drew stares and whispers wherever she went: exactly what she wanted, I had come to realize. She craved attention the way other people craved air.

She turned her green, emerald eyes at me—those eyes that I had inherited, that I saw every time I looked in a mirror—and smiled deeply, a warm and genuine expression that made my stomach twist with conflicting emotions.

"Why the long face? Are you unhappy with something? You can tell me, sweetheart. I am your mother."

I had decided that I had had enough.

The years of neglect, the years of watching her prioritize her clients and her patrons over her own children, the years of being raised by servants and tutors while she entertained a parade of powerful men.

I could not keep it bottled up any longer, so I said it finally:

"...I hate you..." I murmured, my heart pounding in my chest as I did. The words felt like poison leaving my lips, bitter and sharp, but very terrifying. "I... I hate your face and your entire existence! I and Deva can live without you, d-d-disgusting prostitute!"

I felt... that was not what a mother wanted to ever hear from her child.

The last word came out as a sob, my voice cracking with the weight of everything I had been holding inside.

I had never said anything like that to her before. I had never dared, of course. If she actually abandoned me, I was going to be in trouble.

But the dam had broken, and there was no taking it back.

Deva flinched from the sudden verbal violence, her small body recoiling as if she had been struck.

She turned her face up to me, her eyes wide with shock and fear, and shook me with her tiny hands: "Wai— Marina?! What do you think you are doing?! Mother, please, she is just angry! She does not mean it! She is just upset about the event, that is all!"

Mother watched me carefully, her gaze steady and unblinking, how the spite was written all over my face and eyes.

She did not look angry, and she did not look hurt at all. She simply observed, as if she were studying a curious specimen.

Then she scooped both me and Deva into her arms and warmly embraced us, pulling us against her body with a strength that was impossible to resist.

Her arms wrapped around us like a protective cocoon, and I could feel the softness of her skin and the warmth of her breath on my hair.

She smiled, blushed, and uttered: "Well, I love you both with all of my heart and soul. It may not show, but that is the truth. I know I am not the best mother. I know I am not always there. But I love you more than anything in this world. That will never ever change."

"L... Liar!" I yelled, trying to peel myself off her, pushing against her chest with all my strength.

But alas, she was an Amazon indeed: strong and unyielding, and my efforts were useless against her grip. "You do not love us! You love your clients and your parties... and your precious reputation! We are just accessories to you!"

"I tell no lie. I love, love, love you both!" She giggled over my hate rant, her laughter light and musical, completely unbothered by my vitriol.

That made me hate her even more; the way she refused to take my anger seriously, the way she dismissed my pain with affection that felt hollow and fake to me.

Just then, a nearly drunk man appeared at the large door of my room, holding a wine bottle for the aristocrats—a crystal decanter filled with deep red liquid that sloshed dangerously as he swayed on his feet.

His clothes were expensive but disheveled, his hair was mussed, and his eyes were glazed with intoxication.

"Oh! There you are, Hedone!" The man waved his hand at her, his red eyes dazed with a drunken haze. "I have been looking all over for you. The party is not the same without your presence."

"Goodness, Rhine!" Mother quickly ran to him, making sure he does not fall, her arms reaching out to steady him before he could stumble. "But I asked you to wait for me! I was just getting my girls ready."

"Huh?! But I miss you already...!" He whined, his voice carrying a childish petulance that was almost embarrassing to witness. Then his eyes caught on me. "Oh? Is she the cutest and adorable daughter you could not keep quiet about? The one you are always bragging about to your clients?"