Sylvara's Rebirth A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 37

**Chapter 37: Jealousy Served Fresh**

Aslan was spiraling into a state of confusion.

What in the universe was that peculiar plant?

He was willing to bet his very sanity that he had never encountered anything remotely similar in his entire existence.

Finished.

Then, like a lightning bolt, a thought struck him. That charming girl he had stumbled upon earlier had mentioned something about the school’s mascot fruit being a vibrant red. Yet, the one he had just seen was a dazzling array of colors, unlike anything he had ever witnessed.

Hold on a second…

Aslan spun on his heel, propelled by a sudden urgency, and sprinted toward the dorms, the wind almost nipping at his heels.

Meanwhile, in a different part of the building, Sylvara was busy preparing a delightful snack. She had just rinsed two bunches of grapes, their rich color gleaming under the light, sliced a lemon with precision, and dropped a few bright yellow slices into a glass of water. With a sense of satisfaction, she arranged everything neatly on the small dining table in her suite.

Adjusting the lens on her optical computer, she recorded a brief ten-second video showcasing the grapes, their surface glistening with fresh droplets of water.

Next, she captured another ten-second clip of the refreshing lemon water, the slices floating like little suns in the clear liquid.

Eager to share her creation, she was just about to upload the clips when the door swung open unexpectedly.

Sylvara, perched on the couch, fixed her gaze on the intruder with a frosty demeanor. “Miralys, I didn’t extend an invitation. What gives you the right to barge in here?”

Miralys, however, remained silent, her eyes immediately drawn to the table. The plate of grapes was a deep red, nearly purple, some even tinged with an alluring indigo hue.

They sparkled with beads of water, each grape plump and inviting, their sweet fragrance wafting through the air, intoxicating her senses. Beside them sat a glass of cool, citrusy water, the lemon slices dancing within like vibrant jewels.

A fierce wave of jealousy surged within Miralys, igniting a fire in her chest. All of this—the luscious grapes, the refreshing lemon water—had to be gifts from Agares. That insufferable Sylvara was sitting there, relishing in the very things that rightfully belonged to her.

She was meant to be the one at Agares’s side.

She should have been the one lounging in that seat, sipping on imported lemon water and basking in luxury. Not Sylvara. Not this insignificant little upstart.

“Oh,” Miralys said, flopping onto the couch with a smile that was anything but genuine. “Sylvara, what are you saying? I overheard Zephyrion mention that His Highness Agares came looking for you?”

Sylvara lifted her glass of lemon water, her eyes narrowing just slightly behind a calm facade. This treacherous snake thought she could push her out of the picture, ensuring she would never get near Agares again. Did she truly believe she could outsmart her?

Sylvara gasped theatrically, feigning innocence. “Miralys! What are you insinuating? It’s just a little money. What’s there to be proud of? You’ll embarrass yourself with talk like that. The Mordrels are nobility, and you’re their eldest daughter. Shouldn’t you know better?”

At that moment, Miralys felt an overwhelming urge to tear Sylvara apart and feed the pieces to a mutant beast.

But she couldn’t—not yet. She had to bide her time for two more days. Wait until military training commenced.

She swallowed her fury and forced a breath through her nose. Then, casually gesturing toward the fruit on the table, she asked, “Those—are those from His Highness Agares too?”

“Mm-hmm.” Sylvara plucked a grape and popped it into her mouth, chewing loudly for effect. “I wasn’t going to keep it from you. Agares came to see me because he was contemplating divorce. But I told him that without him, I couldn’t survive.”

She sighed dramatically, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “He felt pity for me. Didn’t mention divorce again. Maybe Aunt Seraphine informed him of my poor health, because he gifted me these rare fruits. They say they’re a new variety, not available in the market yet. All-natural, supposedly beneficial for the body.”

Miralys stared at the fruit on the table, her curiosity piqued. She had never seen anything like it, not in any upscale shop or at any noble banquet. The aroma alone was intoxicating. And she, the daughter of nobility, raised in luxury since birth, had never encountered anything like this.

So this was the bounty that came with marrying Agares … if she had known it included such lavish perks, she wouldn’t have cared about his fertility issues.

She should have married him. Taken everything he had to offer. So what if he couldn’t have children? She could. She could have drained him dry, lived in opulence, and enjoyed every luxury he could provide.