My Formidable Beggar Husband

Chapter 1

The cobblestone was cold, and my clothes had been torn to shreds by four men. I clung desperately to the remaining fabric, curling up to prevent them from ripping away my last shred of dignity.

A crowd had gathered around me, watching my humiliation with eager eyes and discussing it with relish.

"I heard she used to be the top performer at Moonview, insisting she would only perform, not sell her body."

"Look at that figure, much more alluring than any courtesan."

"This Laura is truly a beauty. If she hadn't offended Krista, with her prideful nature, we wouldn't have the pleasure of this spectacle today."

"Poor Laura. She worked as a performing artist to support Andrew's studies, but once he became the top scholar of the nation, he turned his back on her and climbed up to the princess..."

"Are you crazy? How dare you say that!" someone nearby whispered urgently.

"Her skin is so fair. If I could just touch it, it would be heavenly."

"And that slender waist, I heard dancers are very flexible, they can do any position."

The lewd comments pierced me like daggers. The crowd's heads bobbed in front of me, some laughing obscenely, others pointing at me, watching my torment as if it were a show.

Yes, death. I wished for death more than anything.

Death would be a release.

Death would turn me into a vengeful spirit, seeking retribution from Andrew and that woman.

I forced my head up, glaring at Krista and Andrew sitting on the high platform.

Krista's lips curled into a smile as she teasingly touched Andrew's face. Andrew, with his eyes closed, trembled uncontrollably.

"Andrew, if she becomes a woman everyone can mistreat, you won't think of her anymore, will you?"

"She's been seen by thousands now. Who would want her in the future?"

Andrew's hands were bloodied from clenching them so tightly. He crawled on his knees to Krista, pressing his forehead to her feet. "My heart belongs only to Princess Krista. I have never loved that woman, not even a little. Please believe me, Your Highness!"

His voice was loud, as if he wanted everyone to hear his declaration.

He said he never loved me, not even a little.

So it was all a lie.

I entered the brothel and became a performing artist to support his studies.

I refused to become a courtesan, remaining chaste for him.

I rehearsed tirelessly every day, never slacking off.

I believed his tender promises: if he became the top scholar, he would marry me.

He exploited my every effort, crushed my bones, and climbed to the top, becoming the top scholar.

Then he discarded me like trash, becoming a servant under Krista's skirt!

And now, he humiliates me like this!

He makes me a laughingstock for thousands!

How can I face the world after this? How can I live with any dignity?

The faces and pointing fingers around me were like judges sentencing me to death.

I closed my eyes, slightly opening my mouth, and bit down on my tongue.

Just a bit more determination, and I would be free.

A bit more, and all the shame would be gone.

Just as I was about to bite down, a wine jar shattered in front of me.

The men tearing at my clothes were hit by the jar, blood streaming from their heads as they crouched on the ground, wailing.

I sat up, curling into myself, and saw a beggar pushing through the crowd, staggering towards me as if drunk.

His hair was disheveled, and he reeked of alcohol. A vicious scar ran down the corner of his eye, giving him a menacing look.

He turned his back to the crowd, his clear eyes fixed on me, and extended a rough but clean hand. His voice was hoarse, "Don't seek death. I want you."

I looked at the hand reaching out to me and could no longer hold back my sobs.

Everyone around wanted me dead, but only he pulled me from the mire, wanting me to live.

He took off his long robe, and with a swift motion, wrapped me securely in his patched robe.

I clung to his strong arm, treating him as my only lifeline in this world.

As long as he could take me away from this endless humiliation, I would repay him with my life, without regret.

He glanced at the high platform, his eyes filled with boundless hatred. He turned and walked away with me in his arms.

Krista clapped her hands and laughed, "A fallen woman and a beggar, a perfect match."

He paused, sensing my body stiffen.

He lowered his head, gently rubbing his chin against the top of my head, comforting me like a small animal.

He whispered in my ear, "Next time I come back, I'll bring their heads as a wedding gift. How about that?"

I covered my eyes, but the suppressed sobs still escaped.

He sighed softly, as if heartbroken. But when he lifted his head, his gaze was murderous. The crowd instinctively made way for him. He carried me steadily, leaving without hesitation.