Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 33

**TITLE: Whispers Shape Distant Tomorrows by Aren Cole Vale**
**Chapter 33**

Christina’s gaze pierced through the girl across from her, her voice sharp as a blade. “Shut your mouth.”

The girl, taken aback, fell silent, though her eyes remained glued to Margaery, as if she were anticipating a punchline to an unfolding joke.

With deliberate slowness, Margaery rose to her feet, her posture radiating a newfound strength. “The afflictions of this world boil down to a handful of emotions: love, hatred, greed, anger, obsession, arrogance, and doubt. These are the very forces that push people to the brink of existence, teetering between life and death. I, too, was ensnared by these emotions, trapped in a pit of despair that seemed insurmountable.”

Norman, nodding thoughtfully, leaned forward slightly. “You grasp the essence of it. And what about now?”

“Now,” Margaery replied, her voice steady and unwavering, “I am learning to embrace reality as it is. I no longer expect anything from others, nor do I seek to control them—or even myself.

“Whatever unfolds, unfolds. There is no ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’ When I relinquish my hopes for preferential treatment, I create no space for disappointment. When I stop attempting to bend the world to my will, I find no cause for frustration. And when I cease to shape myself according to someone else’s expectations, I liberate myself. I can finally live on my own terms.”

“Holy crap.” The same girl from earlier couldn’t suppress a scoff. “Margaery, are you sure you weren’t locked away in a temple instead of a lumber room these past few days?”

Yet, Norman’s expression had turned grave. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and nodded, a sign of deep contemplation. Finally, he fixed his gaze on Margaery and asked, “Margaery, would you consider becoming my student?”

Gasps erupted from the class, a collective disbelief hanging in the air. “No way! Norman wouldn’t even accept Princess Estelle, and now he’s asking Margaery?”

Norman Stonier, the enigmatic figure teaching them about self-cultivation, was a hermit scholar of considerable repute, personally invited by the King after three earnest attempts. He was a direct disciple of the Chapel of Wisdom, known for his lectures aimed at the royal princes.

His visits to Inkwell Academy were rare, occurring only every fortnight, and it was not uncommon for the King himself to attend his lectures.

Throughout the years, aside from Dashnell, Norman had never formally taken on another student. Even Princess Estelle had pleaded with him multiple times to accept her as a disciple, only to be met with polite refusals. Despite her royal status, she was left with no choice but to abandon her hopes.

No one had anticipated that Norman would be swayed by Margaery’s mere words and offer her the opportunity to study under him.

In an instant, the room was engulfed in profound silence.

Margaery had long been resolved to leave the Chancellor’s estate. She understood that stepping away would mean losing her support system and constantly needing to be on guard. Thus, forging connections was imperative for her future.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Margaery knelt on the ground, her voice firm and respectful. “Disciple Margaery is eager to study under you, Mr. Stonier, to learn the art of self-cultivation and embody the virtues of a true gentleman.”

“Excellent, excellent!” Norman exclaimed, his joy palpable. He stepped closer, assisting her to her feet, and removed the rosary beads from his wrist, presenting them to her. “You have found enlightenment through your trials.

“You share a bond with the divine. May God bestow upon you peace, health, and a clear path ahead.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stonier,” Margaery replied, her heart swelling with gratitude.

As she gazed at the rosary beads now resting on her wrist, a rare sense of comfort enveloped her, a stark contrast to the bracelet Avery had gifted her.

Outside, Russell had been waiting for quite some time. When he finally spotted Margaery emerging from the classroom adorned with the rosary beads, he couldn’t contain his irritation.

“Margaery,” he called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “looks like once you receive a nice gift from someone else, you’ve forgotten all about the things Ryder, Andrew, and I gave you, huh?”

True, the hairpin he had gifted her bore a protective charm, but that was merely talk.

The hairpin Dashnell had sent just yesterday was of far greater significance—a treasured gift from the late King to Serena herself. As long as Margaery wore it, who would dare to harm her? To lay a finger on her would be tantamount to treason.

And now, Norman had bestowed upon her his personal prayer beads, effectively replacing the bracelet Avery had once given her.

In terms of status and value, these gifts dwarfed what the three of them had offered. Russell’s bitterness festered within him.

When Margaery turned her attention to him, Russell couldn’t hold back any longer. “So what now? I guess I’m not even good enough to call you my sister anymore, huh?”

His tone was laced with resentment, sharp and cutting.

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