> It felt as though time had frozen for Veralyn.
She lay silently on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes were bloodshot from holding back tears — something the maids had taught her to do every time she was punished by the Baroness.
Women were never given the right to express what they truly felt — but who were they to take away such a basic human right?
The door creaked open. Two maids entered, their hands full with hair-dyeing supplies. They didn't wait for Veralyn to speak. As soon as they stepped in, they shut the door behind them and began their work.
One of them parted Veralyn's hair with quick, practiced fingers. The other mixed water with powder to make the dye. They had been sent by the Baroness — to change Veralyn's identity.
Or rather, to hide her true one.
All the while, Veralyn didn't move.
She didn't even realize when the moon bid farewell and the sun rose to greet the world.
In the meantime, in the Baroness's Room:
A man in his fifties, with a bulging belly and a nearly bald head, lay sprawled on the bed in nightclothes. He was the owner of the mansion—and the Baroness's husband. Who was rarely present there for his role.
"So, you're selling her today?" he asked lazily.
"Yes. I will be," the Baroness replied, her tone flat.
"I see… but Margaret—your mother—is here, isn't she?"
"She is. But there's no need for you to worry about that. You just have to be present in front of the buyers. It's only legal for men to sell women and children."
"Ah, right…" He yawned. "Then I'll be sleeping in. Wake me an hour before the buyers arrive. I'll be heading to the Capital tonight for trade."
The Baroness didn't answer. Instead, she rose from the bed, wrapped herself in an elegant shawl, and walked over to the window. The garden lay still under a veil of morning fog, soft and silent—unlike the storm quietly brewing inside her.
"If only she were still here..." she whispered quietly, clutching her shawl.
24 years ago~
In the corridor of a prestigious building, a Seventeen-year-old girl with deep red hair and eyes as black as night walked straight ahead in a navy-blue dress and polished black shoes. A leather bag hung from her left hand.
"Margaret!"
"Oh, Margaret! Wait for me!"
A cheerful voice called out from behind. Margaret turned around to see a girl about her age trying to catch her breath. She had red hair too, though hers shone brightly and softly under the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. She wore the same navy-blue dress and glossy shoes. Her large, garnet-green, doe-like eyes looked warmly at Margaret.
"I told you to wait for me! Don't you love me enough to wait?"
Margaret blushed. "W-What?! Why should I wait for you? I'll be late for class too. And we're not kids anymore for me to... love you."
"Just because we've grown up doesn't mean we can't love each other anymore. I love you. You're my sister and my best friend. And who are you trying to fool? I know you purposely slowed down so I could catch up," the girl said with a playful smile.
"I'm sorry for getting you late, dear Margaret, but you know how much I love animals. When I saw that stray cat, I just couldn't hold back my urge to play with her a little," said Suzen with a playful grin. "Now, let's go."
"Blood!" Margaret screamed the moment Suzen held her hand.
"Oh, you're right—I didn't even notice, hehe, Must have gotten it while playing with that cat." Suzen replied in a clumsy tone.
With a mix of worry and frustration, Margaret exclaimed, "You know you can't feel pain! You really should take better care of yourself. What if you get hurt badly and never even notice it just because you don't feel it? What am I going to do with you?"
Margaret quickly pulled out her handkerchief from her bag and wrapped it gently around Suzen's wounded hand. Then, she carefully smoothed the wrinkles on Suzen's dress.
Anyone watching could tell how much Margaret cared for her.
They made their way to class, but since they were late, they were told to stand outside.
"I'm really sorry, dear Margaret," Suzen said, her voice small and her face wearing a puppy-eyed expression.
Margaret looked at Suzen—those eyes, always as black as night, now shimmered like they held stars. Her cheeks turned a soft pink, and her body temperature seemed to rise slightly.
Gulp. "It's okay... I don't mind getting late every day and being punished for you," she mumbled under her breath.
"What did you say? Are you mad at me?" Suzen asked, her voice trembling and her eyes welling up with tears. She looked genuinely worried that she had hurt Margaret's feelings.
With a face as red as a beet, Margaret yelled, "IT'S OKAY, I SAID!"
Their punishment was extended for making noise outside the class.
During Recess in the Canteen:
"You two were gone for the whole lesson!" said Avaric, his attire far more elaborate than the rest of the students—dark blond hair neatly brushed, eyes a striking aquatic blue. His gaze lingered on Suzen more than anyone else.
"Yeah," Columbia muttered, flipping her light blond hair. "The teacher was upset that his favorite student wasn't there to answer his tricky questions."
Alex grumbled, his black hair falling into his brown eyes, "he dumped extra homework on the rest of us."
Margaret's voice cut through, sharp and protective. "Stop blaming Suzen for being talented! That's unfair. And Columbia—you're being especially rude."
Columbia smirked. "Hmph. The knight protecting her princess again, huh?"
"You—!" Margaret snapped, her voice rising.
But Suzen reached out, her calm hand brushing against Margaret's. "It's alright, Dear Margaret."
Her touch melted Margaret's anger into quiet calm.
"I understand your frustration, all of you," Suzen said gently. "I'm sorry if my presence has caused this. I'll try not to let it happen again. For now, let me help with the homework."
"Let's do it after school at the Grand Library?" suggested Alex, nibbling on his bread sandwich.
Everyone agreed, and once school was over, they all headed to the library together. They chose a quiet corner table for better concentration.
Avaric never missed a chance to get close to Suzen, so he sat right beside her. Margaret, out of habit, took the seat on Suzen's other side, while Alex sat next to Margaret. Columbia, used to this arrangement, sat facing Suzen.
The group soon focused on their assignments, though Avaric kept trying to steal Suzen's attention.
Margaret noticed and grew upset, her expression resembling that of a wounded pup. At that moment, Alex tried calling her name, but she was too distracted by Suzen to hear him. Hesitant, Alex gently tapped Margaret's hand to get her attention. She instantly looked at him, startled and almost terrified.
"I—I didn't mean it in a bad way," Alex stammered, shrinking in his seat. "You were just so lost you didn't hear me. I'm sorry… I only wanted to ask how to solve this question."
"Sure, show me the question, Alex," said Margaret with a poker face.
After hours of work, everyone scattered around to find books to read. Margaret, however, was lost in thought—troubled by how close Avaric seemed to be getting to Suzen. She picked up a book and was about to open it when, suddenly, Suzen hugged her tightly from behind. Margaret gasped in shock,
and when she turned after hearing
"Peek-a-boo!" her face ended up much too close to Suzen's.
"Gulp… too close," Margaret whispered under her breath.
Leaning in, Suzen smirked. "What? I can't understand you if you're going to talk so lightly."
Margaret's face flushed red, her temperature rising as her heart raced uncontrollably. Sweat began to gather at her temples, and words refused to leave her mouth.
Suzen touched her temple gently. "Are you sick? You were turning red this morning too. You should see a doctor."
Pulling away from Suzen's grip, Margaret took a few quick steps back. "I'm fine, you don't have to worry. Let's go home if you're done here?" she said, her tone betraying more urgency than suggestion.
Suzen caught on, noticing how Margaret's words sounded less like a question and more like a plea. With a soft smile, she agreed. "Sure, let's go. Oh—and we have to fetch a bouquet for Aunt on the way."
Suzen took her time at the florist for to make a beautiful bouquet. And Margaret was admiring her flower admiring the other flowers.