Hana stood before her father's study.
She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her fingertips, so loud it echoed in her chest.
What should I do? she thought. Should I argue with him? Fight?
A bitter, soundless laugh rose in her mind. What a stupid thought. It's never worked before. To him, I've been dead for a long time. I was never truly his daughter not since he found out I wasn't a mage.
Her hands trembled as she lifted her fist toward the door, then let it fall again.
I can't do anything. Nothing at all. The only thing left for me is to watch. Helpless. Like always.
A hot tear slipped down her cheek.
I don't have the strength to change anything. All I can do is try to accept it to adapt, as best I can.
A lump rose in her throat.
But what if it gets worse? What if this woman, this fiancée, is even crueler than the ones here? And this place is already hell.
Her knees felt weak.
Please… please let it turn out okay. Please.
A small, miserable whisper in her head.
That's all I can do. I hate myself for it. I hate that I can't do more.
Hana knocked hesitantly on the heavy wooden door.
For a moment, there was silence. Then her father's voice hard and toneless:
"Come in."
Hana slowly turned the handle. Her hand shook. A cold draft hit her as she stepped into the large, dim study.
The first thing she saw was her father, seated behind his massive desk. His eyes pierced her like two cold needles.
Beside him stood her stepmother, lips curled into a thin, mocking smile as if she were savoring Hana's discomfort.
Hana immediately lowered her gaze, staring at the expensive carpet beneath her feet.
Say what you have to say. Make it quick. Let it be over.
"So, you're finally here," her father growled. His voice cut like a blade. "Took you long enough."
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
"I have something to tell you."
"I happened to hear recently," he began coolly, studying her as though she were a stain on his carpet, "that the daughter of the Ashura family is looking for a woman to get engaged to."
He paused, leaning back with his hands clasped before his chest.
"It may sound strange, but I don't care. You're not wanted here anyway. You should be grateful I've arranged this engagement for you."
He threw a mocking glance at his wife, who was smirking in amusement.
"The Ashura family is one of the four great noble and mage houses of the Empire military, powerful, influential."
He spat the word powerful as if to remind her of how weak she was.
"Compared to them," he continued, "our family is nothing. Just another insignificant name among many. So take it as a mercy that you'll soon bear the name Ashura. You'll never come back here. Don't cause trouble. Do as you're told."
Her stepmother placed a mock-gentle hand on her husband's arm, her eyes gleaming with disdain as they lingered on Hana.
"Finally, we're rid of this parasite. Took long enough. You know how much I despise your stupid brat."
Hana's stomach twisted. She glanced at her father, but he avoided her gaze, cold and indifferent.
"Darling, please…" he said with feigned patience. "You know that was just a mistake. That whore back then she seduced me while working here as a maid. Nothing more. A mistake."
He leaned forward, his cold smile cutting into Hana like a knife.
"So don't call that parasite my daughter. She's nothing of the sort. Never was."
The stepmother's eyes slid over Hana like she was filth to be crushed.
"You're scum. Filth. You've been tolerated here far too long. Sure, you've got some of his DNA…" she spat the word, "…but you're still no mage. Pathetic. Fitting, really, considering what kind of trash your mother was."
Hana lowered her head, her hands shaking. Every part of her screamed to make herself small, invisible.
Her father straightened again, his voice cold and final.
"That's my last word. Tomorrow at three, your fiancée will come to pick you up. Make something of it."
His eyes held only disdain, almost boredom.
"If she throws you out, that's your problem. You're not welcome here anymore."
Tears blurred Hana's vision as she fled the study. Her legs moved on their own, faster and faster, until she was running past the cold walls, heavy doors, and the servants who ignored her as always.
She pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. Every step pounded in her temples. She couldn't be seen. No one could see how weak she was.
At last, she reached her room a narrow, bare cell with just a thin bed and a trunk. She slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the hard mattress.
Hana buried her face in the pillow. The tears came in waves.
Why me?
She could barely breathe, her whole body trembling.
Why is it always me? I've never done anything to anyone.
Her father's and stepmother's words echoed in her mind like blows: Scum. Parasite. Filth.
Tomorrow, she would be taken away. Given to someone like an object.
A faint sob escaped her, barely more than a whimper, filling the small room. Hana drew her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly, as if she could keep all the darkness away.
Please… don't let it get worse. Please let me survive this.
That was all she had left no hope, no plans. Only a desperate, trembling please.
I can't take this anymore. I can't.
Hana pressed her hands to her temples; her head throbbed as if it would burst.
I should've slapped that witch. Just once. That disgusting woman. And him too.
A bitter, dry laugh escaped her throat.
Pathetic. What would've happened? They'd have beaten me senseless. They're mages I'm nothing.
Her fingers trembled as she clutched the thin blanket.
I hate mages. Their power. That damned power. With a snap of their fingers, they can throw me to the ground no matter what I do.
Her chest rose and fell in short, frantic breaths. She stared up at the ceiling as if it might give her an answer.
I hate them all. I hate them. And I hate myself because I can't do anything.
Trying to calm herself, Hana reached for the water bottle beside her bed. Her hands still shook as she took a long gulp, as though it could extinguish the burning in her chest.
Please, God, her lips moved soundlessly. I never really believed in you.
A bitter thought followed. Why would I? Nothing good has ever happened in my life.
Tears welled in her eyes again.
Why did my mother have to get sick? Why did she have to die?
She remembered her small hands holding her mother's cold fingers.
I was only seven. Now I'm eighteen and suddenly, I'm supposed to be engaged to a stranger.
She pressed the cool bottle to her forehead, as if it could drive the thoughts away.
If you really exist… please, just make my life a little better than this. Not much. Just a little. That would be enough.
Hana cried for a long time, until her tears ran dry. Eventually, exhaustion weighed down her eyelids.
At least in sleep, she thought, sinking into her thin mattress, I can escape the hell that waits for me here every day.
She closed her eyes, clutching her pillow tight as if it were her mother.
In her mind, she reached for the few precious memories she still had: her mother's laughter, her gentle voice, the warmth of her embrace.
Those memories gave Hana just enough strength to finally drift off
into a restless sleep, her heart full of fear for what tomorrow would bring, and a tiny, fragile spark of hope that maybe… just maybe… it wouldn't be as terrible as she feared.