ã€Špathetic.ã€‹


 prologue

    The day couldn¡¯t be more perfect for such a memorable event. The village air is clear and crisp, carrying a rich, pleasant taste that seems to linger on the tongue. Even the temperature feels just right¡ªwarm and cozy, with a gentle breeze cooling the heat from the day¡¯s sun. Birds sing with particular beauty, adding a harmonious note to the atmosphere. Long rays of sunlight creep into a small room on the second floor of a modest, rustic cottage. Inside the warm, inviting space, a woman puts the finishing touches on her youngest daughter¡¯s hair.

    The older woman¡¯s long, flowing black hair, accented with hints of dark red, frames her face as delicately as the petals of her namesake flower. Her deep green eyes hold the same softness as the single camellia flower nestled behind her ear, a reflection of her gentle grace and beauty. Yet today, her breaths come unevenly, overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions running through her.

    ¡°Are we done yet?¡± her daughter asks, making her mother chuckle at her impatience.

    ¡°Almost,¡± Camellia replies, carefully placing rose petals in her daughter¡¯s hair. Finding roses is no small feat. While not exactly rare, the dwindling supply of magic and the scarcity of those capable of wielding it, combined with the village¡¯s remote location, make obtaining fresh flowers costly¡ªmore than they could comfortably afford. Yet her husband has always been a determined man; it¡¯s what eventually won her over, and he kept that determination, finding a way to bring more than a few roses for his daughter¡¯s special day. Camellia wipes away a fresh tear as she looks at her Rose in the mirror.

    Rose stood in contrast to her mother in appearance, yet she was no less striking, especially today. Her dress, a rich, earthy hue, may once have belonged to her older sister, but it had been carefully restitched to fit her perfectly. It draped gracefully over her delicate figure, accentuating the gentle curves of her youth all while representing her transition from a little girl to a woman of the village. Her bright auburn hair, freshly cut short for the ceremony, framed her face with a youthful charm. Small braids wove through her hair, adorned with delicate rose petals¡ªthe emblem of her soul¡ªthat encircled her head like a crown of vibrant red gems. Her amber-brown eyes shone with excitement, reflecting the warm sunlight that filtered into the room, and her face was alight with anticipation.

    Camellia sighed, wiping away another tear. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re already sixteen.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Rose says, shifting slightly as her mother¡¯s pure emotion stirs a similar ache in her own chest. Watching her mother on the brink of tears only makes it harder for Rose to hold herself together. ¡°Iris had her ceremony only two years ago!¡± she adds quickly, adjusting her dress as a smile creeps across her face. It fits her better than it ever did her older sister, and the thought alone warms her smile. As always, it¡¯s a hand-me-down from Iris, but her mother¡¯s skill with a needle has transformed it to fit her perfectly. Rose doesn¡¯t mind that it once belonged to her sister; after all, soon enough, she¡¯ll begin a life of her own, filled with things that will be just hers¡ªand hers alone. Her cheeks warmed at the thought.

    Her gaze unconsciously shifts to her father¡¯s flower pinned over her mother¡¯s heart. The small set of rowan flowers fit perfectly with her mothers dress and the sight stirs a blush as Rose¡¯s fingers trace the empty space over her own dress. As always, it would begin with a flower, and now she was old enough to receive one herself.

    "Ah! I can¡¯t believe it either," Camellia sighs. "My beautiful babies are growing up." A soft, bittersweet smile trembles on her lips. She reaches out, brushing a stray hair behind Rose¡¯s ear, her fingers lingering for a moment. "You look so grown up, Lei El¡¯ora," she whispers with gentle love, her voice warm and a little unsteady. Her eyes shine with pride with a touch of nostalgia. "Iris looked wonderful, but this dress suits you even more. Be sure to thank Liana for her work, remember."

    ¡°I will, Mom,¡± Rose says with determination. Standing tall, she finds that her eyes now stand just a bit higher than her mother¡¯s. She gently grabs her mother¡¯s hands in her own. ¡°Thank you, Mother,¡± she says with a warm smile and from the depths of her own soul. She might not have been the perfect daughter, but her mother had always been there for her. It had hurt to see Iris receive everything she wanted, while she herself had only gained scraps but she grew up long ago and had long understood her place in the family. Still there were quiet acts of care that came her way. This dress for instance. it had suited Iris, but there was a reason it seemed to fit her better. Rose gently swallows her emotions as she looks on with love that only a daughter could have. ¡°Shall we show Dad?¡± she suggested.

    ¡°I think he¡¯d like that.¡± Camellia let Rose pull her hands away, feeling the warmth leave them as she watched her daughter walk through the open double door with a warm pride beating gently in her heart. With a large, steady breath she allows herself some time to wipe her eyes before following close behind.

    Still, she has to pause at the doorway of the master bedroom. Turning her head her eyes find the marks on the door frame as her fingers gently tracing the growth marks dug into the wood¡ªevidence of her daughter''s growth. The only thing that remains of their short childhood. The marks stop just above her own eyes. ¡°We really need to measure them again,¡± she chokes out the whisper, swallowing the emotion. She knew this day would come but still, it''s too soon isn''t it?

    Lifting her hand from the marks she looked at the long, scarred fingers, cut from years of stitch work and many accidents in the kitchen. She ran a thumb over the scared fingers. Looking up she saw that Rose had already started down the stairs. She smiles at the sight. It was well worth a few nicks. ¡°Where did all that time go?¡± she wonders aloud as she fixes herself. Once she was ready she followed her daughter downstairs.

    Directly across from the stairs is the home''s living room. It was here where Rose¡¯s father sat at the table, his large arms crossed over his portly belly. Though his once-powerful muscles have softened, traces of his former strength remain. 11 years without his left leg have transformed the once-proud soldier into an honorable elder, his spirit undiminished even as his belly remains full.

    When Rose steps into the room, her father¡¯s jaw drops ever so slightly, his weathered face softening with surprise as his eyes widen while he takes in every detail¡ªthe rose-petal crown in her hair, the delicate dress, and the glow of youth and joy radiating from her. He blinks, as though trying to fully grasp the vision before him.

    ¡°Cami,¡± he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze shifts briefly to his wife standing behind Rose, causing him to blink a few times, his sharp brown eyes darting between the two. ¡°Gods above,¡± he mutters, focusing back on Rose. ¡°You look just like her.¡±

    A small smile tugs at Rose¡¯s lips as she glances back at her mother. She¡¯s amused, knowing that everyone in the village always says Iris takes after their mother. Yet her father¡¯s awe remains, undimmed, as he shakes his head. "Look at you, my little girl¡­¡± he says softly. ¡°Wow, I always knew you were beautiful, but I just¡­¡± His smile softened. ¡°Your mother looked just like you.¡± his eyes turned to his wife. ¡°Remember that day. You were just as pretty as you are now.¡± he added slyly.

    ¡°I had pink petals,¡± Camellia teases, a playful glint in her eyes. ¡°They may be lighter than red, but you know my flower is much easier to find.¡±

    Rowan waves her words aside. ¡°It was fate,¡± he insists. ¡°The rose bush bloomed the day you were born. Did you know that?¡± he said looking back at his daughter, taking in the sight of her once again.

    Rose rolls her eyes, unable to help herself. ¡°Of course,¡± she replies, a touch dryly. ¡°You¡¯ve told me that story my whole life. The clouds parted at my first cry, and the rose bushes bloomed one last time before they died. It¡¯s a bit¡­ bleak, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Rowan shrugs, a faint smile on his face. ¡°You might have mentioned that¡­ once or twice.¡± He ran a hand through his own hair, ¡°Oh, my little girl¡­ I knew this day would come, but I never imagined you¡¯d look so beautiful."

    He clenches his teeth slightly, struggling to keep his emotions in check as he reaches out a hand, rough and calloused from years of wielding a blade. Rose steps closer, placing her hand in his, and he wraps it in both of his own, holding tightly as he looks deeply into her eyes, a small, proud smile playing on his face.

    ¡°You¡¯re all grown up now,¡± he whispers, a tear welling in his eye despite himself. ¡°Gods above, I remember when you were just a little thing, barely above my kn¡ª¡± His voice falters as his free hand drifts to the stump where his knee used to be. He shudders for a moment, the light fading from his eye before continuing. ¡°That is... you used to chase me around the garden and¡­¡± He lets out a grunt, giving the table a gentle tap with his fist.

    ¡°But all that aside,¡± he begins, his voice booming with renewed strength, ¡°if anyone is daft enough to try and give you his flower today, I¡¯ll be ready to show him what an old soldier can still do.¡± he threatened with a large, pure smile.

    Rose jumped at the noise, and Camellia sighed with a warning smile. "Dear," she said pointedly. Rose¡¯s cheeks flushed as red as her namesake when she caught the meaning behind her father¡¯s words. Her hand drifted to the empty space near her heart, feeling its thunderous beat. She glanced around, her brows knitting together. "Where is Acker?" she asked. "I thought he was going to be here."

    ¡°Your sister,¡± Rowan replied, heavily emphasizing the word sister, ¡°went to the village square ahead of time. She and that boy had something private to discuss,¡± he added, a hint of a hiss in his voice.

    "Come now, dear." Camellia walked over, placing a gentle hand on her husband''s back, and he reached up to clasp her hand. "You knew this day would come eventually."

    "Yeah!" Rose interjected. "Besides, you didn¡¯t get this upset when Iris had her coming-of-age ceremony!" she complained.

    "That¡¯s because your sister was smart enough to decline any flower some fool offered to her," he retorted, eyeing Rose as he rose on his one good leg. "You, on the other hand, might feel the pressure. You¡¯ve always been so damned softhearted."

    "Dear."

    "I get it, I get it¡ªouch, stop pinching!" Camellia always knew just where to find the tender spot to pinch, it was uncomfortable but the true power of this action was when she would twist. This action caused any foolish man who ignored her warnings to cry out in pain. "But I¡¯m still going to break anyone dumb enough to try and take advantage of¡ªouch!"

    "It¡¯s her day, dear; tell her she¡¯s pretty."

    "I did¡ªouch. You¡¯re very pretty today," he muttered, rubbing his back where his wife had pinched him.

    Rose gave a soft chuckle. "Thank you, Dad."

    "You used to call me Daddy."

    Rose chuckled again, a hint of nostalgia in her smile. "Heh. You used to lift me up and toss me in the air." She swallowed quickly, but it was too late¡ªthe words had already escaped.

    Thankfully, her father just chuckled. ¡°Well¡­ you used to be a lot lighter, and I a few libr¨¦es heavier.¡± He took up his staff¡ªa shortened, battered remnant of his old quarterstaff. The base was still wrapped in heavy iron, giving it weight and balance, while the top, splintered from battle, was bound in thick, worn leather to create a crude yet sturdy padding that fit snugly under his arm. With a practiced grip on the dark, polished leather wrap, he leaned forward, walking on his own while Camellia hovered nearby, ready to steady him if his old weapon threatened to fail him once again.

    He raised a hand to Rose, cupping her face gently, his thumb tracing a soft line across her cheek. ¡°You¡¯re beautiful, my girl,¡± he murmured, his voice filled with quiet pride.

    Rose smiled, leaning into his touch as a familiar warmth spread across her face and settled deeply in her heart. ¡°Thank you¡­ Daddy.¡± She shifted uncomfortably at that, her face flushing with embarrassment.

    The gentle moment lingered until Camellia broke the silence. ¡°Right, we do have to get her to the Hovkaas before the ceremony starts.¡±

    Rowan cleared his throat and straightened up. ¡°Right, well, let¡¯s get going. Iris will meet us at the ceremony, and you need to join the other girls.¡± He smiled, ¡°I doubt any of them could outshine you today.¡± He said proudly.

    ¡°Of course! Rose has been perfected by my hand!¡± Camellia teased, stepping past her husband to tuck back a stray hair that had escaped. ¡°Now come, it took a little longer to get you ready than I expected, and we might be late.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Rose¡¯s eyes widened, ¡°Mom, you woke me up before the crows!¡±

    ¡°And the crows will be fine. Your hair is very thick, Lei El''ora,¡± she said affectionately, giving her daughter¡¯s cheek a gentle tap. ¡°Now let¡¯s get going¡± With that, she moved past them, opening the heavy front door with ease, and smiled as she ushered them out. ¡°Quickly,¡± she snapped. ¡°The crows can fly. We walk.¡±

    They made their way to the Hovkaas, the village chief¡¯s home just in front of the village center. On most days, it served as the village chief¡¯s home or a welcome center for the rare visits from nobles overseeing the region. But today, it was transformed into a gathering place for the girls who were all turning sixteen. Rose wasn¡¯t alone; she was the last of the seven girls in the village coming of age this year.

    ¡°Rose!¡± came a voice as she stepped into the Hovkaas alone. The dim light blurred her vision momentarily, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted. She had just bid farewell to her parents as tradition dictated she enter by herself. The interior was grand, almost awe-inspiring, with rich, polished wood walls arching gracefully overhead. The craftsmanship displayed a blend of elegance and restraint¡ªsmooth, dark timber walls lined with intricate carvings that caught the flickering glow of lanterns. Thick, heavy beams stretched across the ceiling, creating a sense of strength and stability and every little bit of it was cleaned to a polish.

    The room felt like an ocean of warmth and richness, a space so breathtaking it would have stolen Rose¡¯s breath¡ªhad it not been for the familiar voice that called her back. ¡°Rosie!¡± Mari called again. Her second-oldest friend stood before her, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.

    Mari wore a light, brown-gold dress, its soft hues reminiscent of freshly turned soil kissed by the late afternoon sun. Though simple in cut, the dress held a quiet beauty, adorned with tiny marigold petals sewn carefully along the hem and neckline, each one a bright spot of color against the fabric. She had woven more petals into her loose, chestnut-brown hair, which tumbled over her shoulders like a cascade of autumn leaves.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Like Rose, Mari had recently turned sixteen, just two months earlier than her. Today, she too shone with a natural grace like everyone else in this room. This was their day as much as it was Rose¡¯s¡ªa shared celebration between them as the girls would soon take their first steps into adulthood.

    ¡°You look beautiful!¡± Mari exclaimed, her voice ringing out and drawing the room¡¯s attention. Rose glanced around, her gaze settling on familiar faces¡ªOselle, Iana, Violet, Lia, and Brie. She recognized them all of course. It was a big village and yet small all the same.

    She¡¯d shared hard times with some, genuinely happy memories with others, and there was Oselle, in the corner, as awkward and unapproachable as ever. Yet, here they all were, each dressed to the nines, each stepping into a new chapter. They all looked lovely, but Rose couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that no one could quite outshine her today. It was a shared day, but it was also her day. Her hand drifted to the spot above her heart. Like everyone else here, it was empty for now¡ªbut not for long.

    ¡°Thank you, Mari! You look gorgeous. I¡¯m so glad your mother finished the dress on time; it¡¯s wonderful!¡± She complimented her friend, happy to see she managed to prepare everything in time.

    ¡°Thanks! Your mother did an amazing job, too¡ªI can hardly tell your dress was ever worn before.¡± As the two girls chatted, their words a flurry of excitement, one of the others approached¡ªa girl with dark hair adorned with pink and white petals cascading down her back like gentle waves of night. Her hair was held in place by a few well-placed braids.

    ¡°Rose,¡± Brie said, her voice weighted.

    ¡°Brie,¡± Rose replied, while Mari shot Brie a sideways glance. Brie¡¯s lips thinned as she looked at Rose, a low hum escaping the back of her throat before she finally spoke.

    "Thank your father for me," Brie said, raising a hand to touch a petal in her hair.

    Rose¡¯s eyes widened slightly as she noticed the exceptionally rare flower woven into Brie¡¯s hair. Much like her own petals. She nodded. ¡°I will.¡±

    An awkward silence settled between them before Rose hesitantly asked, ¡°Is there anything else?¡±

    Brie looked down, muttering something inaudible. Rose tilted her head. ¡°What was that?¡±

    Brie glanced up, her expression tense. ¡°You look... good,¡± she mumbled before turning on her heel and stomping away.

    Rose and Mari exchanged glances. ¡°Your dad did a lot for everyone,¡± Mari said with a smile. ¡°Honestly, who names their kid after the Briar Rose these days?¡±

    ¡°The same kind that names their kids after a Rose,¡± Rose replied with a smirk. ¡°Especially after the last one the village had died soon after.¡±

    Mari chuckled softly. ¡°Right, but your dad¡¯s different. Unlike Brie¡¯s parents, yours actually worked for a noble.¡±

    Rose shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not all it¡¯s cracked up to be.¡± Sure, they had connections, but she¡¯d trade all the petals in her hair if it meant she hadn¡¯t had to watch her parents fall apart that one horrible day 11 years ago. Her gaze drifted to the back of Brie¡¯s head, her mind brushing over their old conflicts. Age had softened their childish spats considerably but¡­ Rose shook her head. ¡°One second,¡± she murmured, moving past Mari

    But before Rose could take a step forward, a sharp clap echoed through the room, drawing all the girls¡¯ attention to the M¨¦rof¨¦e, the village chief¡¯s wife.

    The M¨¦rof¨¦e stood with the M¨¦rahn at her side. Though she and her mother-in-law rarely saw eye to eye, they always put their differences aside for events like this. Village unity was everything, after all. Even her daughter, the Delarin, stood beside her with a bright expression, though she was four years too young to be part of the ceremony herself.

    The M¨¦rof¨¦e looked at each girl, beckoning them closer with a simple gesture with both hands. Excited, she clapped once more. She then glanced at the M¨¦rahn, who gave a small nod of approval, before turning back to the soon-to-be women gathered before her. A soft smile spread across her face as she began to speak.

    ¡°Daughters of Sayotheo,¡± she began. Her words were complemented with her actions, allowing her to deliver her speech with a lot of animated gusto. ¡°Today you stand at the brink of womanhood, ready to blossom into the next season of life, as the flowers do each spring on the Arbrenvie¡ªthe tree that anchors our very world. In Sayotheo, we especially are all part of this great tree¡ªmen as its sturdy branches, roots, and trunk, and women as the flowers that bloom upon it, bringing color, beauty, and the promise of new life.

    ¡°To be a woman here is to carry both blessing and duty. Soon you will showcase your talent and beauty to the entire village, and not long after, you will marry, bring forth life, and care for your kin. The life of a family springs from the women who hold it together, and you will know the joy of watching it grow. Your husband will be your support, your protector, and you, in turn, will be his light, his guide. Just as the flowers lead us to the heart of the tree, so you will be the gentle pull that keeps his heart and mind from wandering. In serving him, you serve all of Sayotheo, strengthening the bonds that hold our people as one.¡±

    ¡°In this journey, remember that we are blessed by the Seven who dwell above, and we honor them with our lives. Each god above watches over a part of our lives, from the bounty of the fields to the warmth of our hearths. Together, they balance the heavens and earth, light and shadow, and we must honor them through family, tradition, and the quiet strength that you, as women, carry.

    ¡°So walk with pride today, young daughters¡ªnew women of Sayotheo¡ªand prepare to step into the life that awaits you. You are the flowers on our tree, the life that springs forth when all else grows bare, and it is a gift to see you bloom. You will make our village proud, bringing beauty and new life to Sayotheo as only true daughters can.¡±

    The M¨¦rahn began to clap, dryly. This quickly prompted the girls to join in as well. The M¨¦rof¨¦e looked around and nodded approvingly. A large smile on her face. ¡°That being said, I am proud of each and every one of you. The M¨¦rahn and I have watched each of you grow into fine women.¡± With a nod to her mother-in-law, she stepped back, allowing the M¨¦rahn to address the group.

    The M¨¦rahn took a step forward and, with a deep breath, spoke in a voice both hard and sharp. ¡°I won¡¯t give you a grand speech. You know your duty, and you know what¡¯s expected. Go forth, marry well, give birth, and serve your kin. Keep your heads high and your hands steady.¡±

    With that, the M¨¦rahn turned and walked further into the home, disappearing behind a door, leaving the young women in solemn silence until the M¨¦rof¨¦e began to clap, signaling what they were supposed to do. After a smattering of polite applause, she began to speak again.

    ¡°Well, with that we are ready to¡ª¡± The M¨¦rof¨¦e¡¯s words were cut off by the sharp sound of the side door creaking open. Every head turned to the noise, and Rose¡¯s eyes widened as she recognized her sister, Iris, standing in the doorway, her dark blue eyes wide as she looked at everyone staring back at her.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Iris began, her voice trembling. She seemed to struggle for the right words, but before she could continue, the M¨¦rof¨¦e¡¯s firm tone cut through.

    ¡°Iris, dear, I understand your desire to support your sister, but today is a pivotal day for all the girls, and we¡¯re nearly ready to begin.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, but I need to speak with Rose, just for a moment,¡± Iris said quickly, her gaze darting to Rose, flickering with urgency and¡­ something else Rose rarely saw in her older sister.

    ¡°You can speak to her later,¡± the M¨¦rof¨¦e replied, her voice growing icier, thickening the air in the room. ¡°Right now, we must prepare.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Iris, daughter of Rowan,¡± the M¨¦rof¨¦e¡¯s words held a finality that crushed any hope of protest, ¡°when you came of age, no one interrupted you did they?¡± without waiting for a reply she continued. ¡°Show the respect you received¡ªto your fellow villagers and, especially, to your sister.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I understand,¡± Iris murmured, her voice barely a whisper. But her eyes lingered on Rose.

    Rose felt a chill settle in her chest from Iris¡¯s gaze, but as the M¨¦rahn cleared her throat, Iris had no choice but to leave. Rose glanced around, noticing the others casting curious glances her way. Her mouth went a little dry, but the M¨¦rof¨¦e clapped her hands, drawing everyone¡¯s attention back.

    ¡°Right,¡± the M¨¦rof¨¦e continued, ¡°as I was saying, today is your day. Let no one¡ª¡± her gaze lingered on Rose for a heartbeat longer¡ª¡°ruin it for you. Remember, today you become a woman. Today, you begin your life in earnest.¡±

    With those words, Rose felt a small surge of reassurance. Iris¡¯s sudden appearance still lingered at the back of her mind, but today was meant to be about her. Her sister had enjoyed her own special day, even had the distinction of being the oldest, getting everything while she had to become used to receiving second hand items from her.

    Perhaps Iris simply wasn¡¯t used to standing on the sidelines¡­ not that she¡¯d intentionally disrupt Rose¡¯s day. Iris wasnt that kind of woman¡­ Rose gave a quick shake of her head, refocusing as the M¨¦rahn began to explain the day¡¯s proceedings. Though it was their celebration, the expectation was clear¡ªthey were to perform flawlessly.

    The village of Sayotheo celebrated many unique holidays, but ¨¦panflor de Vie was among the most important. Similar to other coming-of-age ceremonies, it was marked with special grandeur in Sayotheo. On this day, the village¡¯s residents dressed in their finest attire, but it was the unmarried men who took extra care, each grooming himself meticulously in hopes of catching the eye of one of the young women stepping into adulthood. They awaited the moment when the flower pinned to their lapel, bearing their name and the soul of their heart, might be accepted by one of these new women.

    As the sun dips low, casting a golden hue over the village square, the air fills with the solemn, haunting call of the lur horn. The villagers fall silent, heads turning expectantly toward the large wooden doors of the village chief¡¯s home. Standing there in the now-open doorway is the M¨¦rof¨¦e, holding herself tall and proud as she leads the new women outside, guiding them into the world for the first time as adults.

    Behind her, the young women stand in a line, their dresses in earthy tones of brown, green, and ochre, each shade reflecting the soil beneath their feet. The dresses drape gracefully, enhancing the natural beauty of each girl. Petals are woven through their hair, with some tucked into their dresses¡ªeach one identified by the flower that represents her very soul.

    A deep, steady beat of the frame drum begins, slow and resonant, as the M¨¦rof¨¦e steps forward, leading the girls behind her. In a graceful procession, they follow, heads held high. Beneath their calm exteriors, their faces reveal a touch of nervousness, a reminder of the day¡¯s significance.

    A lyre joins the drum, plucking a soft, repetitive melody that cloaks the scene in an air of timeless ritual. Villagers watch, captivated by the beauty and symbolism before them. As the procession reaches the town center, they see the Chevrain waiting. When the M¨¦rof¨¦e reaches her husband, they share a brief embrace¡ªa symbol of unity between the sexes in this sacred moment. Hand in hand, they step forward together, leading the new women to the heart of the square.

    At this signal, the girls spread out in a semicircle around the couple, each one standing poised, proud, and serene, like flowers turned toward the sun.

    A flute begins to play, its gentle, airy notes floating above the steady drum and lyre, like whispers from the gods themselves, blessing this transition just long enough to ensure each girl is ready. As the music slows, it fades into a profound silence.

    The Chevrain raises his hands, addressing the crowd with pride. ¡°Today, we honor not only these young women but all the life our village has nurtured this past year. Seventeen new children have joined our family, and their laughter fills our homes. Seven new homes were built as each one welcomed a new family. With each new life, each new home, our strength grows, our fields yield more bountifully, and our community thrives.¡±

    The crowd murmurs in agreement, their eyes on the girls who stand before them. The Chevrain continues, speaking of the village¡¯s abundance, the harvest, and the bonds forged over time. ¡°Today, these young women, who have grown among us as our daughters and nieces, will now stand before you as women, ready to take their proper place within our village.¡±

    Then, one by one, the Chevrain calls each girl¡¯s name. Each girl steps forward, cheeks flushed with pride, anticipation, and a pounding in her heart. She gives a respectful nod to her family and the villagers who raised her, met by cheers from the crowd. When it¡¯s Rose¡¯s turn, her eyes scan for her family¡ªand she finds them easily while there, beside her sister, she spots Acker, smiling back at her.

    His smile causes her to blush a little. Though he¡¯s far away, she can see he¡¯s dressed with care: his tunic immaculately clean, his hair smoothed back, and his gaze fixed intently on her. For a brief, fragile moment, their eyes meet, and Rose feels warmth flush through her from her face to her fingertips. In that moment, she almost feels as if he¡¯s seeing her truly for the first time, as she stands before everyone as a young woman, no longer just the village girl.

    Once all the girls have been introduced, the Chevrain speaks again about the strength of the village, the richness of their lands, and their hopes for the future. Soon, the music begins again, and the fathers step out of the crowd to join their daughters. This dance marks the last time a father will hold his daughter as a child; after this, he will release her hand as a woman, free to choose whom she might want to share her life with. Though she tried, Rose couldn''t help herself from glancing at Acker.

    The Chevrain steps forward and gently takes Iana¡¯s hand, honoring her with a father¡¯s presence for the dance. Rose¡¯s own father had considered sitting this dance out due to his condition, with the Chevrain offering to take his place, but Rose had insisted otherwise. After all, her father was still alive and well. Rowan, though hesitant, was glad he¡¯d agreed.

    Together with his wife he approached his daughter, tears glistened in his eyes as he took her hand. He left his cane to his wife, who smiled at the scene before taking his staff turned cane back into the crowd with her. Standing there on one leg, the father held onto his daughter with a quiet pride.

    The frame drum picks up a lively rhythm, and lyres and harps add playful, warm notes as the father-daughter dance begins. Fathers and daughters twirl and laugh, their steps moving in harmony with tradition. Only Rose and Rowan remain mostly still, swaying softly to the music, savoring each moment in this small, powerful dance.

    As they swayed, Rowan looked down at Rose, his eyes warm with pride and tenderness. He tightened his grip on her hand. ¡°Your mother and I¡­ we¡¯ll always be here for you. No matter how much you grow, no matter where life takes you, you¡¯ll never have to carry anything alone.¡±

    Rose¡¯s eyes softened, and she leaned into the gentle strength of his hold. ¡°I know, Dad. But this is the start of my life.¡± She couldn¡¯t help but smile. There was a powerful truth to those words.

    They were good parents, always ensuring both she and Iris were cared for, even if she had often stood in her sister¡¯s shadow, wearing hand-me-downs, including today¡¯s dress. But now she understood¡ªshe was no less important. Her life was beginning, in her own way. ¡°Besides, I feel like I should be the one taking care of you and Mom. Lord Armeric¡¯s support won¡¯t last forever.¡±

    Rowan snorted. ¡°That man isn¡¯t taking care of this family. Sure, his coin helps, and without it¡­¡± He trailed a hand through her hair, brushing the flowers. ¡°But I gave a leg for his son. I doubt he¡¯d abandon us any time soon.¡±

    Rose smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure he wouldn¡¯t. Still, soon enough though, I¡¯ll have a family of my own. And I doubt Ack¡ªuh, my prospective husband¡ªwould dare abandon his wife¡¯s family.¡±

    Rowan¡¯s hands tightened slightly. ¡°Don''t say that¡± he quietly begged. ¡°I don¡¯t care what anyone says,¡± he muttered. ¡°You¡¯re still my little girl. I¡¯m just now getting used to the idea of Iris getting married.¡±

    Rose blinked. ¡°Iris is getting married?¡±

    Rowan scowled. ¡°That bastard proposed today. It was about time to. Ugh, still. I still don¡¯t agree.¡±

    Rose could only stare, her mind racing with questions she didn¡¯t have time to ask. The song ended, signaling the symbolic time to part ways with her father. Now was the moment she¡¯d been looking forward to most. As her mother brought the cane back and the two of them left back into the crowed. Her heart quivered with excitement as her gaze sought him out.

    Her breath caught. His tall, solid frame radiated effortless grace; each movement exuded a quiet confidence that seemed to draw every eye to him.

    His dark hair, combed back with care, caught the evening light, accentuating the strong angles of his face¡ªhis sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes that held a mystery known only to her. He was her oldest friend, and after tonight¡­perhaps something more.

    The scent of aconite drifted toward her, familiar and comforting, as if calling her to him. It was the flower that embodied his soul: earthy and grounding, yet tinged with an air of mystery. She smiled, savoring the aroma, feeling its quiet strength anchor her in this moment.

    As she breathed it in, their eyes met across the space between them, a flicker of recognition sparking through the air. In that instant, something electric and unspoken passed between them, a promise hidden in the depth of his gaze. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once, and her heart pounded with a pull she couldn¡¯t resist. She realized she had never felt more drawn to anyone.

    Soon enough, he would walk over to her¡ªthe dance between potential suitors was a formality, a symbolic introduction for those ready to marry. A sort of meet cute, but for some reason, he didn¡¯t move. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching out as she waited, heart pounding. Another young man noticed her hesitation and began walking toward her, seizing the opportunity. Yet all Acker did was smile at her from a distance, standing beside her sister. Gifting her with only a wave.

    That was when she saw it¡ªthe flower. Not on his lapel, but pinned to hers. There it rested over Iris¡¯s heart, the promise she had been expecting all day. A familiar ache settled deep within her, as if life itself had quietly reminded her of her place, where her dreams always seemed to slip just out of reach, claimed by the one meant to have them all along.

    Her breath caught as the realization settled in, an undeniable chill sweeping away whatever fragile warmth she had thought was hers on this day.

 Chapter One - Exposition

    Soft amber eyes blinked open, glistening with the remnants of early morning sorrow. Rose sighed, shifting upright, her bed damp and uncomfortable after a restless summer night. She rubbed her weary eyes, humming softly as she swung her legs over the edge. The familiar, gritty chill of the stone floor met her bare feet, grounding her in the reality of the new day.

    Bringing a hand to her face, she used slender fingers to sweep away the stubborn traces of sleep. The gesture seemed to finally lift the last haze of slumber, yet she remained seated, gazing over her hollow room, lost in the silence that filled the dawn.

    No morning light had yet reached her small, stone-walled space, leaving it shrouded in dim, lingering shadows. Her mind, too, seemed stuck in a haze, darkened by memories of a past that felt both hers and not hers. How long had it been since she started living here¡ªfive years? Six? She let her gaze drift around the room, her thoughts trailing back to pieces of a life that belonged to Rose, but not to her.

    Her eyes sharpened as the room filled with the first warm light of dawn. The sun¡¯s rays crept over the walls, illuminating the sturdy mix of pale stucco and solid stone. Her gaze lingered on the thick stone beam that rose from the center of her cramped space. It wasn¡¯t much to look at¡ªit took up precious room¡ªbut it kept the ceiling above her and, thankfully, her upstairs neighbors from crashing down.

    She noticed dust settled thickly in the cracks, layers left undisturbed for days, maybe weeks. Her gaze dropped to the gritty stone floor, where specks of dirt glinted faintly in the morning light. She sighed, thinking again that she should clean up¡­tomorrow.

    Her eyes moved to the warped wooden table by the small, grimy window, cluttered with a haphazard mix of dishes and the only metal spoon she owned. The spoons and bowls had streaks of dried food from past meals, some even days past being able to clean easily, but that was a chore she really ought to tackle¡­tomorrow. After all it was, it was Sixdi.

    ¡°Ah, Sixdi¡­¡± She murmured, thinking of how it used to be Saturday back where she¡¯d come from. Now it was something else entirely. She shook her weary head, another reminder of how much she¡¯d had to adjust since waking up as Rose. ¡°Day¡± had become ¡°di,¡± and while ¡°Six¡± stayed the same, the other days had shifted. Monday, Tuesday, and all the rest were replaced by Primdi, Dousdi, Troisdi, and so on. Seven days¡­ except, sometimes, a random eighth one would appear, throwing her schedule completely off.

    She wavered on the edge of the bed, pressing her fingers to her temples as a dull ache set in. Just one more excuse to leave cleaning for another day¡ªor another di, she corrected with a faint chuckle, though her voice cracked slightly as tears pricked her eyes.

    Her whole body ached, stiff from lying on the rough straw mattress these people called a bed. Yet at least there were thirteen weeks in a month now¡ªor, rather, a pillar. It really made rent easy. It had been two years since she¡¯d first woken up in Rose¡¯s life, and she still found herself thinking of things from her own world.

    She smiled wearily as her gaze wandered around the room, taking in the humble remnants of what this new life had granted her.

    Despite its simplicity, the room provided her with the essentials¡ªa narrow bed, a desk, and a stool where she sat for her meager meals. Though cramped and plain, it was a far cry from the squalor of the city¡¯s slums. Compared to those barely surviving on the streets, she was practically living in luxury on the southern edge of Les Enclos. The restaurant where she worked was in the northern part of the district, just outside Le Lien, near the main trade road. Living in the south of Les Enclos was much cheaper¡ªeven if it meant an hour and a half walk each way.

    At least her legs were well-toned from the daily trek. A plus of the many years working for a cafe. With a laugh that came out more like a dry cough, Rose pushed herself up from the bed and made her way to the table. Her fingers brushed against the cold, rough wood as she idly reached for a spoon left in one of the chipped bowls. Flicking away the dried remnants of last night¡¯s thin soup, she brought the tin spoon up to her face. In the scratched, warped metal, she caught her reflection¡ªtiny, distorted, and somehow foreign.

    Rose sighed. ¡°Little Rose, you¡¯ve gone through so much,¡± she murmured, her voice soft and heavy. She was talking not to herself but the original. She didn¡¯t like to dwell on what had happened to her. Instead, she pretended the reflection in the mirror was someone else entirely, a stranger she could pity from a distance. It made it easier to cope, especially when she needed someone to confide in about things that would seem crazy to anyone else¡ªlike waking up in someone else¡¯s body.

    The spoon slipped from her fingers, landing with a sharp thud against the rough wood of the table. Rose¡¯s gaze drifted toward the small, dust-streaked window, where the sky was beginning to lighten into a soft blue. A low groan escaped her lips as she focused on making breakfast. She reached for a bowl from the table, wiping it down with a rag that was ¡°clean enough,¡± then pressed a small button on the stove. A soft, magical flicker ignited beneath the metal surface, heating it quickly. It was one strange comfort of this fantasy world¡ªeven in its medieval-like setting, certain conveniences from her old life had managed to slip in dressed up as magic. The stove, for instance, ran not on electricity but on a magical battery. There was even a functioning toilet in her cramped quarters, though, much to her dismay, toilet paper had not made it into this world.

    She poured water into the bowl, putting it on the stove and sat at the table, watching it swirl as she waited for it to boil. In the faint, rippling reflection, she caught the outline of Rose¡¯s face staring back at her. The girl was only a minor villain in a story from her own world.

    Fille Delose was a familiar tale of a mistreated girl who discovers she is the center of the world. Not only was she a gifted mage, but she was destined to be celebrated as the saint of the Seven Gods. She would expose the greed and corruption within the royal family, fall in love with a duke''s son, battle the world''s enemies, and restore honor to long-corrupted family lines. In the end, she would rise as queen, leading everyone toward a brighter future.

    But characters in stories like hers rarely find peace. Just as the water in her bowl began to bubble, chaos would distill the young girl''s life in such tales, preventing any serene life for a heroine early on. Much like the scraps of cabbage she tossed in, every bump and boil would reshape the young girl¡¯s life. At only six years old, she would lose both her parents, left vulnerable to the cruelty of her aunt, a woman who exploited and abused her for her own gain. And that wicked woman was Rose herself¡ªor rather, the original Rose¡ªthe daughter of Rowan from the village of Sayotheo.

    Rose stirred the pot with a thin wooden stick, watching the cabbage swirl in the boiling water as she mused about the original Rose''s fate. In the story, she was little more than a typical wicked stepmother figure, her evil universally despised yet never explained. Was keeping a home clean really such a crime? She glanced around at the cluttered room, having the young girl clean up for her was¡­ i mean it was a chore, shoulnt children have chores to teach manners or something? It would be nice to have a clean house¡­This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    She shook her head quickly. Now that she was Rose, she¡¯d make sure that if the child ever found her, she¡¯d be raised as her own, not as a servant. Still even as she acknowledged that Rose was in the wrong, she felt a subtle, insistent urge to empathize with her. After all, who is evil without reason? In the story, Rose had no redeeming qualities, but after a few dreams that drifted down memory lane, she began to see that the woman¡¯s sins weren¡¯t as simple as ¡°just because.¡±

    Life was hard, harder still for a second daughter. Each dream was heartbreaking in its own way. If Fille Delose had ever focused on Rose¡¯s story, it would have cast a very different light on her character¡¯s tragic end. But it was too late now; the old Rose was gone, and even if she tried, she wouldn¡¯t know how to be evil in this world.

    This world, after all, was cruel in more ways than Rose¡¯s mistreatment of a child. Men were hanged simply because a noble didn¡¯t like the look of them. People starved in the streets, and the city only ever saw them as nuisances only because they¡¯d soon rot and stink. This place was deviously dangerous, and no one cared if their neighbor went missing. It was one of the reasons she kept to herself and stayed on the main roads, moving quickly from one place to the next. And it was also why no one seemed bothered when an entire village disappeared.

    She had done what she could to warn them of impending danger. Letting little Dahlia stay with her parents would be the best thing for all involved, even though they¡¯d played a part in Rose¡¯s suffering. They weren¡¯t entirely to blame¡ªagain, life here was hard, and it was the harsh circumstances that had truly shaped Rose¡¯s miserable existence.

    As the second daughter of a man who could no longer work, Rose had grown up in poverty, her family perhaps regretting their decision to keep a second daughter. Her father¡¯s pride kept him from accepting charity from the local lord, forcing the family to scrape by because he insisted on being the ¡°man of the family.¡± Yet once again, he was not entirely to blame. After all, It was the only socially acceptable choice he could make. Any other would have seen him ostracized from the village, his family labeled a burden, left to survive with even less. Forgotten if they stared.

    Even then, it was impossible to blame her family or even circumstance alone. The original Rose had pushed that young girl to work until she was exhausted, finding some grim satisfaction in watching her niece¡ªwho so resembled her older sister¡ªsuffer. After all, it was her sister who had received everything. Rose had only been left with scraps.

    ¡°It¡¯s no wonder, though,¡± she muttered as she turned off the stove, breakfast finally ready. ¡°The girl looks just like Iris, save for her eyes¡­¡± She recalled how the author had emphasized their color. They might appear blue at first glance, but in truth, they were a deep purple¡ªthe unmistakable mark of the man who had wounded Rose so deeply that she¡¯d fled the village.

    Her first, and only love.

    Bringing her bowl of cabbage soup to the table after it had cooled, she picked up her trusty tin spoon and began her breakfast. ¡°This could use salt,¡± she laughed dryly.

    Everything could use salt. Unfortunately, it cost 23 bron for just a single ounce¡ªor ceau, as they called it here. Twenty-three Bron coins for one ceau was far beyond her price range. Still, cabbage had a bit of natural salt in it, so¡­ ¡°Hehe.¡± She laughed miserably, trying to trick herself into enjoying the bland, simple soup. At least the restaurant allowed its employees to take away the scraps left behind. If only she had a bit more seniority, she might even be able to take some meat now and then but as it is, she is far from the favorite.

    As she chewed, her gaze drifted out the window, and her thoughts turned to the letter she¡¯d sent. It had seemed like a good first step toward warning them of the danger. What danger, exactly? She didn¡¯t entirely know; the story only began once Delihla was living with Rose. The real problem was that most of her family couldn¡¯t read. Maybe the Chevrain could help¡ªher family had always been held in high regard, after all. And if not, the local lord got along well enough with her father that he might offer his assistance.

    Of course, there was also the matter of who carried the letter. She¡¯d entrusted it to a merchant who might pass through the area, but as far out of the way as Sayotheo was, there was every chance he¡¯d tossed it aside and pocket the coin. She¡¯d only paid him a few Bron, after all.

    Swirling the last dregs of her breakfast around in the bowl, she mulled over the problem. She had thought more than a few times about returning to Sayotheo herself, but it would cost over ten cuivre just for the journey, and the gate tax alone was six bron. Ten cuivre could buy more than a thousand loaves of bread. Right now, she had enough for only five, maybe six?

    Borders were growing tighter, too. She¡¯d only reached the city by sheer luck, and by all rights, Rose should be a corpse never to be found again. Perhaps she only survived because she needed to be in the city to torment Delihla. Her brow furrowed as she looked over at the empty space on the table that served as her pantry. ¡°When did I run out of bread?¡± she murmured. In the corner of the table was an empty plate, crumbs circled it sure, but there were three slices of bread there¡­right?.

    She clicked her curiosity away. ¡°I really need a better job.¡± she muttered, saying it as if it were the simplest thing in the world, though her work as a waitress earned her six bron and two ¨¨tains a day. Bread alone cost two ¨¨tains per loaf, so those few extra tin coins each day bought her a loaf. But where did the rest of her earnings go? If anyone looked around her home, it would be a complete mystery.

    She reached for a small pouch, tipping it to count out the last eight ¨¨tains she owned. ¡°Getting paid at the end of each day sucks,¡± she mused, missing the days when her pay had come in a nice, if small, lump sum every two weeks. She scoffed softly.

    ¡°I really need a better life,¡± she joked to no one but herself. Those dangerous words had gotten her reincarnated the first time, but really, how bad could it get? Wasn¡¯t reincarnation supposed to be miraculous? She was supposed to be the center of things, maybe a heroine or a visionary¡ªyet here she was, just another peasant scraping by in a city full of commoners. Still, a flicker of hope stirred in her chest, excitement even. After all, she knew this story. And she even had a degree in marketing! Well¡­ almost. College was expensive, and FAFSA only stretched so far for an online program.

    Throwing the spoon onto the table, she stretched, readying herself for the day. ¡°Whatever,¡± she muttered, casting aside her worries with a single word. Hopefully, the letter would reach her family, and they¡¯d be able to act on it. She had disguised it as a prophecy from Lumi¨¨reon, the god of guidance and wisdom, hoping that would lend her words enough credibility to avoid too many questions.

    If she was lucky, it might even attract political support from L''Sept, the church of the Seven. Then again, this could also bring unwanted attention from Lumid¨¦s; a true prophecy from Lumi¨¨reon would certainly catch the zealots¡¯ interest. She couldn¡¯t help but giggle softly to herself. A minor villain teaming up with the sinister religious entity of the original story¡ªit was a match made in heaven.

    She glanced around at the squalor surrounding her. Maybe it would be worth it¡ªanything to escape this life. ¡°Eh, it could be worse,¡± she shrugged, pushing the thought aside as she set out to start her day. ¡°I could have been reborn as a chicken.¡± Free-range might have been alright, but too many never see the sun¡­

 Chapter Two - Walking To Work

    Eventually, Rose pulled herself together enough to head out for the day. di, that is. No matter how exhausted she felt, she needed money. She only had eight ¨¦tains left. Her rent for the month¡ªor "pillar," as it was called here¡ªwas already paid, but of course, she still needed money for essentials like food and¡­food. Oh, and she was saving up for a dishwasher.

    Well, here it was called a Myst¨¦lave, and it did more than just wash dishes. Magic was real here. real and quite awesome. This thing was like a box where you¡¯d place any dirty item inside¡ªyes, any item¡ªclose the device, beep boop and voil¨¤, it would come out spotless. No dirt, no grime, just perfectly clean, like new.

    It even ran on something like solar power. It absorbs mystic energy drawn from the sun, stored in a magical container called an ¨¦nerciel. So yes, it was magic¡ªbut, in a way, it was like solar power. Actually it was solar power¡­ wait was magic here just advanced science? No¡­ that would be¡­ well, not fantasy world.

    She shook her head. Over the years, she¡¯d managed to save up¡­ well, eight ¨¦tains toward her goal. But the Myst¨¦lave cost two Orfin coins. She probably wouldn¡¯t see a single gold coin in her lifetime, but if she could gather twenty Cuivre, she could afford it. Eventually.

    This made the Myst¨¦lave worth 2,100 ¨¦tains, and she had eight¡­ almost there, she thought with a bitter chuckle.

    With the weight of both her needs and wants pressing on her, she scavenged enough motivation to push open the heavy oak door and stepped outside. The sun was already high enough to flood the street with warm, safe light. After closing the door, she locked it with an old iron key, slipped the string around her neck, and tucked the metal beneath her faded green day dress.

    She paused to take in the vibrant colors of her street. Pelteman was a small residential neighborhood in the Sudelar Quarter, and though her walk to work was longer from here, the lively culture of the area made it worth it¡­ mostly.

    As she started her northward walk, Rose glanced around, feeling fortunate to have found a good, affordable place. Yet most of the city didn¡¯t share her opinion. To them, Pelteman was a joke¡ªan impractical luxury for people who couldn¡¯t afford luxuries. Most city folk preferred the convenience of living right where they worked, mostly because real estate was expensive. Originally, Pelteman was the only part of the city dedicated solely to residential spaces for commoners¡ªor at least, that had been the plan on paper.

    Now, residents were dragging tables out of their homes, transforming their doorsteps into makeshift market stalls. Nearby, a woman hawked dried herbs tied in little bundles with faded string. Beside her, a young boy crouched on the ground, carefully arranging turnips and carrots in neat rows. An old man, hunched and silent, held up a tray of metal trinkets that glinted dully in the morning light. The rich smell of fresh bread filled the air as several people sold warm loaves and pastries.

    Pelteman had become just another area in the city, a place where only the poor and newly arrived found themselves. The enticing smell of freshly baked bread was how Rose ended up two ¨¦tains further from owning a Myst¨¦lave, as she was now walking to work with a warm loaf in her hand.

    Sinking her teeth into the soft, warm bread, she chewed slowly, savoring the comforting heat that chased away the morning chill. It didn¡¯t take long to finish it or for her to leave Pelteman. There was no gate or barrier to mark the transition, but she knew instinctively when she¡¯d crossed into the next part of town.

    Chaos reigned in the bustling city that no one even though of planing. Everything was built on the fly, with merchants and vendors constantly vying for storefronts along the main road. The city¡¯s residential charm gradually gave way to an urban sprawl, packed with people moving in every direction. The streets were alive with color and sound; vibrant clay facades adorned the buildings, each painted in hues of reds, yellows, and greens to protect against the weather and brighten the walkways. The cheerful colors created a lively backdrop as she moved deeper toward the heart of the city¡ªironically located far from the actual center.

    Marchenne was the largest trade hub in the north, and the only northern city. The main route cut through the far right side of the city, allowing the nobles to live in comfort, away from the daily clamor of workers. Rose pushed her way through the throngs of people, sticking to the well-trodden routes. The busier roads were well-maintained, lined with orderly cobblestones and relatively free of debris. Every now and then, she¡¯d glimpse a side street or narrow alley and consider a shortcut, but she avoided them. They weren¡¯t always safe, and even if they were, she preferred not to put herself in a position where she might have to fend off more than just an unwanted hand from the bustling crowd.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Soon enough, she reached her destination: a small caf¨¦ just off the prime spot by a fountain many used to gather water or drink from . It was close enough to the main road to catch a good crowd even if It only had a windowed door on the street. Still, it allowed a large sign hung above it, carved from wood and adorned with a fork, knife, and an odd-looking cup. Though whoever had carved it clearly didn¡¯t know what a cup looked like; its misshapen design was probably why this caf¨¦ could sometimes be mistaken for a restaurant. Not that it mattered anymore.

    She pulled open the glass door and stepped into a narrow hallway, just wide enough for her to pass through to the back, where it opened into a larger room and the caf¨¦ itself. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and alcohol, softened by the aromas of cooked meat and fresh food, making it almost pleasant, almost. After an hour though, she¡¯d forget the smell.

    Six heavy wooden tables were crammed next to each other, each seating seven or eight people in close quarters. Along the walls, a long, makeshift counter allowed those willing to stand a place to eat, separate from the main counter where the employees worked. Every inch of the place was managed to allow the maximum number of people.

    As Rose entered, she spotted Richmand at the counter, his nose buried in a thick ledger. He glanced up briefly as she approached, giving her a quick nod.

    ¡°Ah, good timing,¡± Richmand muttered, barely looking up. ¡°Almost lunchtime. Tell Lewis to get the girls something to eat¡ªeggs or something¡ªand I¡¯ll take a boar roast sandwich.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Rose nodded and continued past the counter into the back, where the kitchen was sprawled in a chaotic, unkempt manner. This was because the only cook was a man who did his job just enough to get paid. He was almost as bad as Rose but he was especially unpleasant in the way he took the new girls under his¡­ wing.

    It didn''t take long for her to find Lewis, the old cook, shamelessly flirting with one of the new hires, a redhead named Molley. Rose cleared her throat, and Molley jumped, quickly pulling away from Lewis as she adjusted her disheveled dress. Lewis shot Rose with an annoyed glare as she spoiled his fun.

    ¡°Richmand says to make grilled egg sandwiches for the girls and a roasted pork sandwich for himself.¡± She brushed off the cook¡¯s glare and looked at the new hire. ¡°It¡¯s almost noon, so we¡¯ll be starting soon. Why don¡¯t we freshen up a bit in the back room, shall we?¡± Molley¡¯s face flushed as she hurriedly smoothed down her rumpled uniform. At least she looked presentable now. Rose looked back at Lewis, ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Lewis muttered, tutting over his interrupted fun as he turned on the expensive magical burners. Rose couldn¡¯t help but smile to herself; the blend of old-world charm with modern tech was a trope she¡¯d come to appreciate¡ªespecially in a world like this where the convenience of the real world, er her world, was readily available.

    She followed Molley past the kitchen and into the staff room, a cramped space with a few small wooden cubbies tucked into one corner. It served as a break room, changing room, and the manager''s office all in one. Three other girls were already there, lounging and waiting for the day to officially start. Without labor laws, they weren¡¯t paid until the shift actually began, and breaks were counted against them.

    Rose made her way to the back corner of the space where a bunch of wooden cubbies were lined up. her cubby was the second one on the left, third high. Tossing her money pouch inside she began changing, slipping out of her simple dress and putting on the caf¨¦ uniform: a modest black dress with a blue apron. But as she dressed, she frowned. She shuffled through the cubby before glancing at the other girls, who watched her with mischievous smiles. She returned their smiles, though hers was a bit strained.

    ¡°Does anyone know what happened to my padded shorts?¡± Rose asked, her tone light but pointed. Her question sparked a round of giggles, confirming her suspicion.

    ¡°How should we know?¡± Mim replied with a shrug. She was one of the longest-standing employees here, just behind Seria and Rose herself. Sociable and quick to make friends, Mim naturally took the other girls under her wing. Rose was her biggest ally here, mostly because she was easy to rally against someone.

    ¡°Mim. I need them,¡± Rose insisted. The caf¨¦ was full of tight spaces, and most of their customers were hardworking men who came in for a quick bite. She was safe enough behind the counter for grab-and-go meals, but Richmand preferred to keep the new girls there so he could supervise them and they could watch how things went. It made too much sense for her to argue.

    ¡°Oh, but don¡¯t you think you¡¯d have better luck finding a man if you let yourself be a bit¡­ open?¡± Mim teased, her grin mischievous. Rose had made padded shorts for herself and the other girls a few years ago. It was the best defense for the women who had to wade through that sea of men carrying trays and drinks.

    ¡°Better to be safe than to end up tricked by a cook into a three-way, only to be left with the bill at Chardez,¡± Rose replied with a smirk. ¡°How is your debt going by the way?¡±

    Mim¡¯s eyes turned sharp, but it was Molley who reacted with shock. ¡°What?!¡±

    Rose turned to her, ¡°oh yeah, he¡¯s dated almost every girl that walked through that door. Oh, and he¡¯s married, by the way.¡± Molley¡¯s face paled as the news sank in.

    Before they could continue, the man himself entered the room. ¡°Oi, grab a quick bite! Di''s going to start soon,¡± he barked, clapping his hands to get their attention.

    Mim gave Rose a sidelong glance, her face red, before scoffing and leading her little group of girls away.

    The chef looked over at Molley, smiling. ¡°Di''s about to start but we can take a moment to¡­¡± he glanced at Rose, ¡°continue our conversation from earlier?¡±

    Molley glanced at Rose, who simply shrugged, leaving them to it as she headed off to grab the quick meal before the day began.

 Chapter Three ?? - A Fixture in the World.

    Molley joined the rest of the girls shortly after Rose sat down, grabbing the last sandwich from the tray before slipping into a seat to eat. She cast Rose a quick, sideways look, catching her eye for a moment before focusing back on her food. Her expression was a little vacant, but she still ate quickly.

    Watching her, Rose felt a little lighter. Most girls didn¡¯t believe her if she ever tried to warn them. Lewis had a good job and could be quite charming. Even if the girls didn¡¯t care for him, he brought with him the promise of a stable life. Cooking wasn¡¯t dangerous, especially if it was just for commoners and it could be quite profitable.

    Most girls just labeled her as jealous, like Mim, who took her frustrations out on Rose because she had no other way to vent when it turned out that her words were true. Over the years, Rose had stopped worrying much about making friends, especially since most girls didn¡¯t stay longer than two pillars. But it was nice to have a good rapport with the newest girl this season, at least.

    It was lonely, constantly being the object of others¡¯ misplaced resentment. She glanced over at Mim and her little group of friends. Mim¡¯s eyes narrowed as she caught Rose looking, and she quickly turned to her friends, whispering in hushed voices. They giggled, and Rose shook her head. What were they, in middle school? Still she couldn¡¯t really hate the girl for her childish antics. After all she was left with an exorbitant bill that she would likely never be able to pay off in her life. One that wasn''t even her debt to pay.

    At least she managed to save one or two girls from that womanizer each year. She wished she could say it made it all worth it, but honestly¡­ he could cook. Lewis might have been a letch, but his skill was undeniable. Rose could understand why so many fell for his tricks as she savored her sandwich. It was one of the few things that kept her coming back to this job¡ªa free meal from a master chef. The food was more than just soft and warm; even though it was only an egg between two slices of bread, it was masterfully crafted, tasting far better than anything she could make¡ªeven with the finest ingredients.

    And this place most certainly did not have the finest ingredients. The caf¨¦ had been intended to attract high-class patrons, though it had long since missed its mark. It still kept a ¡°fine dining¡± menu, but with ingredients better suited to commoners allowing the price to be payable by commoners. Nobles might scoff, but the hardworking townsfolk? They were the ones keeping the caf¨¦ in business, and they couldn¡¯t tell the difference between Gruy¨¨re and cheddar. Cheese was cheese.

    Rose took a generous bite, feeling the bread crackle beneath her teeth, the crust toasted to perfection. The taste of warm, melted butter mixed with the rich yolk of the egg, its edges just crisped enough to add a hint of smokiness. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the only luxury she could ever have in this city.

    Still it was over way too fast. Even though Rose took her time savoring each bite, she still finished second, with Seria beating. The blonde was already pouring over the ledger Richmand had handed her. He ate leisurely, enjoying the privilege that came with being in charge, while the girls needed to finish quickly before the day began because the second it did the food was either tossed or they would lose pay for being ¡®lazy¡¯.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    As the last bites were taken and the plates emptied, a soft but distinct horn sounded through the thick stone walls, signaling the mandated midday break for the entire workforce of the city. Instantly, the girls sprang into action. One gathered the dishes, another whisked them away to the kitchen for washing, while the rest straightened chairs, brushed crumbs from the tables, and made quick adjustments to ensure everything looked presentable.

    While none of their customers would actually care about such details, Richmand was a stickler for order. Once the workday starts, you worked, or you¡¯d loose money. Soon enough, the door could be heard scraping open, and the first customers strode in¡ªgruff, sturdy men with a worn look that spoke of long hours shifting heavy boxes from one cart to the next. The main road led through the city and was wide enough to handle thousands of carts each day, the route lined with hundreds of massive warehouses. These teamsters were the city¡¯s backbone, unloading thousands of carts and distributing them to where they needed to go.

    While they sat in tables, the day started, settling into a steady rhythm, as usual. Rose moved from table to table, the men hardly glancing up as they placed their orders¡ªa medley of hearty, traditional dishes featuring thick stews, rich cheeses, and dense bread fresh from the oven. Many were regulars, choosing this place either for its proximity to their work or the shelter it offered from the blazing sun. Most already knew what they wanted, their gruff voices rumbling with familiar orders while other rushed to the counter, paying for a meal to go, the cafe¡¯s speciality.

    As the day progressed, every seat was taken, and the door stopped swinging open. It would have been a relief to see the crowd thin, but the caf¨¦ was cramped, with tables shoved close together, leaving only narrow walkways for them to squeeze through. Rose had to navigate carefully, pushing past customers in a space where it was impossible to move without brushing against someone.

    She squeezed between chairs and dodged elbows jutting out from benches. Moving through the crowded space always felt like threading through a maze that changed with each step. She was forced to brush shoulders as she passed or dodge the occasional foot in her path. All while holding a tray of food and drink. Sometimes, a hand found its way to ¡®help¡¯ her, lingering too long, or even giving her a less than gentle well done, but she quickened her pace to shake it off.

    As the lunch rush started to come to a close, Rose could barely catch her breath. Sure she could walk 4 hours a day no problem but after some time the already heavy trey grew heavy with every step around the restaurant. Sweat gathered at her temples. She worked her way to a table in the far corner, where a group of regulars waited, their rough laughter rising above the noise as they talked over each other joining the jovial customers who had one to many beers. She set down their orders with practiced precision, placing each dish with a quick nod in acknowledgment before grabbing the empty ones.

    Just as she turned to leave, a hand shot out, grabbing her firmly on the backside. The touch was unmistakably deliberate, rough fingers pressing into her as a cheerful voice cried in her ear, ¡°Thanks, Rosie.¡±

    Rose¡¯s body tensed, a surge of irritation and something almost sharper flashing through her. She clenched her jaw, but the grip made her jolt, and her hand slipped. The tray tilted, and a plate slid off, shattering against the stone floor with a sharp crack.

    Around her, the caf¨¦ continued as usual. The men hardly glanced up, carrying on without a care while her pulse hammered in her ears, a rush of frustration blurring her vision. Behind her, the man¡¯s snicker twisted into her thoughts, sharp as the broken shards at her feet. Once again, she was reminded that in this world, she was a mere fixture here, a part of the scenery¡ªexpected to smile, serve, and brush off every rough hand, with nothing in return but the taste of a cold meal and a few small coins.

 Chapter Four ?? - Rose Quits

    ¡°Rose!¡± a voice cut through the loud bustle of the crowd, allowing her to return to her senses. She locked eyes with Richmand, who motioned for her to come to the kitchen door. She sighed, knowing what was coming. Pushing her way past the crowd, she offered a quick apology to the girl who had to clean up after her. Soon enough, she was through the door, with Lewis snickering at her like some overgrown child.

    She ignored him as best as she could, though her gaze lingered on the simmering soup for a moment. The thought crossed her mind to nudge the handle and let it spill over, but she pushed it aside and made her way to the back room, where Richmand was waiting to reprimand her. He was already there with Seria, the two of them sitting behind a desk, gesturing to a flimsy chair.

    Rose stifled a sigh as she sat down. Richmand¡¯s face was flushed, his voice already rising to that grating pitch she knew all too well. ¡°Again? Another plate, Rose?¡± He scoffed, glaring at her with clear irritation. ¡°You¡¯ve been here long enough¡ªwhat¡¯s the problem? You think plates are cheap? You think they come out of thin air? They don¡¯t!¡± He leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked her over with a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

    She didn¡¯t offer him an answer, didn¡¯t try to speak up in her defense or explain what had happened. It was easier to let him run out of steam, apologize, and move on.

    ¡°You¡¯re still acting like a skittish little girl!¡± he continued, shaking his head. ¡°How long have you been here now, hmm? Four, five years? Come on, even the new girls haven¡¯t lost a plate yet.¡± He let out a dry sigh. ¡°Look, I know it¡¯s crowded in there, but seriously, you¡¯ve been dropping a tray a week. It¡¯s adding up, Rose.¡±

    That¡¯s unfair! Rose thought bitterly. It was more like once every three weeks, and how was it her fault that the men were¡­ men? It was why she¡¯d made padded shorts in the first place!

    Richmand rubbed his forehead. ¡°The boss is seriously pissed off at the losses. Plates aren¡¯t cheap, you know.¡± They were, but Rose held her tongue. The caf¨¦ used hard clay plates, easily made by anyone. They ordered them from a village not far from the city; the shipping probably cost more than the whole batch. In fact she was sure they made that change off her suggestion. ¡°Seriously, Rose, what the hell, if you could just hold a damn tray¡­¡± He sighed, shaking his head.

    ¡°I¡­¡± She opened her mouth to defend herself, but caught herself. She¡¯d complained before, only to get told to shut up and do her job. It was hard to swallow, but the alternative was losing her job just because she couldn¡¯t hack it. She wasn¡¯t about to let some man¡¯s grab cost her the only free meal she got each day.

    ¡°Just keep your head down and do your job,¡± Seria added with a shrug. ¡°You know the costs add up.¡± She let out a satisfied little giggle, clearly enjoying the chance to chastise her. ¡°I mean, seriously, this is your third time in two weeks. I don¡¯t know what they taught you in that backwater village you call home, but you¡¯re in Marchenne now. People here don¡¯t take kindly to girls who think they¡¯re too good for a¡­¡± She gave Rose a knowing smile. ¡°¡­friendly hand.¡±

    So she saw everything, did she? Rose thought bitterly. She probably encouraged Mim to steal my shorts too. Bitch.

    That so-called ¡®friendly hand¡¯ deserved to be cut off. But she could only grit her teeth. Richmand sighed, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m docking your pay again!¡± Ah yes, there went her money. Clay dishes might be cheap, but the cost to her was high, enough that she kept track of every slice of bread she could afford.

    And it dug deep into her savings for the dishwasher.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what they do in the sticks, but it¡¯s clear you have a problem. Seriously, you should whore yourself out a bit; at your age, you won¡¯t get much, but maybe you¡¯ll be less jumpy around men.¡± The suggestion was dead serious, and Rose¡¯s eyes widened in shock.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Rose stammered, looking between them.

    ¡°See, this is what I¡¯m talking about,¡± he scoffed. ¡°You take everything so personally! None of this is an attack on you. It¡¯s a good suggestion, right?¡± He turned to Seria, gesturing for her to back him up.

    ¡°Honestly, it might do you some good,¡± Seria replied without hesitation. ¡°At your age, you¡¯d probably only attract older men, but they could teach you how to be more generous with the little attention you receive.¡±

    Rose could only blink, too stunned to respond.

    ¡°Now get your ass out there and smile, for fuck¡¯s sake.¡±

    A silence echoed in Rose¡¯s heart, and before she could think, she acted. She ripped off her full-body apron and tossed it to the floor. ¡°I quit!¡± Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and stomped off.

    The manager threw his arms up as she walked away. ¡°Fine! See if I care!¡± Shaking his head, he looked at Seria. ¡°Seriously, after all I''ve done for her.¡± He tutted, dusting his hands off as if he were done with her for good.

    Seria shrugged. ¡°Good riddance, I say. She was here before I arrived. Honestly, can you imagine not being married before nineteen?¡± She giggled and took an extra second to step on the crumpled apron. ¡°Trevor and I are already trying for our first child.¡± She smiled, rubbing her hand over her belly with satisfaction.

    ¡°Ah, she¡­¡± He leaned back in his chair, letting out a small sigh. ¡°She wasn¡¯t always like that. She managed well enough and even came up with a few good ideas for the caf¨¦. That ¡®grab-and-go¡¯ thing? That was hers¡ªprepping food before we opened.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s why you tolerated her. I was wondering.¡± Seria let out a giggle, clearly pleased that the old crow was finally gone.

    Richmand rubbed the ache in his temple. ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess.¡± He shook his head, looking Seria up and down. She was about 18, came from good city stock, and, after a few years of solid work, knew more than most about being a waitress in a caf¨¦.

    ¡°Is¡­¡± he trailed off, choosing his words carefully. ¡°Is there something to what she said? You know, about the men and how they¡­¡±

    Seria tilted her head, giving him a look of mild surprise before bursting into laughter. ¡°About the abusive work environment? Gods, no!¡± She waved a hand dismissively, and Richmand let out a breath, relieved. Of course. It was just Rose being dramatic.

    ¡°Seriously, men will be men,¡± Seria continued with a chuckle. ¡°Besides, this place is great¡ªbetter then any other place I worked at, all our girls have padding.¡± She grinned at the little enhancement the caf¨¦ generously offered them. The padding gave a bit of protection and just enough extra appeal to keep the men coming back day after day.

    ¡°Another one of her ideas¡­¡± Richmand sighed, remembering his initial confusion when Rose had first suggested it. She¡¯d called it something to cushion the blows of the men¡¯s casual slaps. Blows. That was the word she¡¯d used. He¡¯d initially dismissed her right then, but she had made one for herself anyway, spending a bit of coin on it as well. He would have dismissed her as crazy but the difference had caught his attention; it definitely felt¡­ softer.

    It also helped keep her from dropping trays when the men bumped into her. He narrowed his eyes. ¡°Wait. Didn¡¯t she have those shorts herself?¡± He looked at Seria, his brows knitting together. The padding should have kept her from reacting so¡­ shocked. It usually worked, anyway. Unless something truly egregious had happened.

    Seria quickly averted her gaze. ¡°Ah, there was a problem with the lockers,¡± she mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, sneaking only a quick glance his way.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he pressed, his tone darkening.

    Seria straightened under his gaze. ¡°Uh, well, M-Mim forgot her padding, and we thought Rose wasn¡¯t coming in today, so we gave it to her and, uh¡­¡± She swallowed, hoping he¡¯d accept the excuse.

    ¡°Whatever,¡± he said at last, waving her off. She slipped out quickly, a little too relieved, he noted. There was probably more to it, but it wasn''t something to worry about. Rose was well past her prime; he probably should have dismissed her years ago. Still, he liked her¡ªor at least her ideas. If women could manage these affairs, he¡¯d have hired her in an instant. But women weren¡¯t suited for such roles, were they? Sure, she had good ideas, but he was the one who had to make them happen.

    He sighed, standing up he walked over and picked up her crumpled apron from the floor. Leaning against his desk, he looked at it thoughtfully. Maybe he could show her a little kindness. She was too old to work but still didn''t have a family to look after her. She would definitely have a hard time finding work. She¡¯d be back soon enough, and he could take pity on her when she begged for her job back. After all, wasn¡¯t it a man¡¯s duty to look after women in need?

 Chapter Five - Chrysalist

    "Oh shit, oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." The words spilled from her mouth, barely more than a whisper, as she stumbled through the bustling street, her steps uneven and unsteady. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, a relentless beat that seemed to drown out everything else. She¡¯d quit. She¡¯d actually quit.

    The cool, damp breeze did nothing to soothe her overheated face. She hugged herself tightly, her fingertips pressing into her arms as though she could physically hold herself together. She tripped slightly over the uneven cobblestones, catching herself just in time, but her legs wobbled, threatening to buckle with each shaky step. Overhead, the sky seemed to darken, clouds gathering as if in silent judgment. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.

    ¡°Why¡­why did I do that?¡± she muttered, her voice shaking. It wasn¡¯t a great job, but it had come with something. A meal each day¡ªa really good one. And now? Now she had nothing. No job, no money, no hope.

    She turned a corner, quickening her pace like she could somehow outrun her own spiraling thoughts, but they crashed down, a title wave of unnerving fire fraying the very ends of her nerves. She could still see that smug look on Richmand¡¯s face, the way Seria had giggled after she¡¯d stormed out. ¡°Fuck!¡± She didn''t even get paid for her work. Not that it would have been worth anything but having something to hold her over at the very least.

    ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± The realization sank deeper, a slow, twisting ache. ¡°my stupid worthless pride!¡± Tears fell from her open, hollow eyes. The words made her stomach churn. Whore myself out, he¡¯d said. Her throat tightened, and she bit down a surge of bitter anger. The road became bury and she was forced to run her sleeve over her eyes.¡°Fuck you, you piece of shit!¡± She spat, startling a man passing by, who blinked at her with a raised eyebrow, his arms raised in confusion as he watched her pass.

    ¡°Oh, god¡­¡± Her voice was barely a whisper now. ¡°What the hell am I supposed to do?¡±

    Her vision blurred, and she blinked rapidly, fighting back the burning prickle of tears. People bustled around her, their faces a swirl of indifference as they brushed past, caught up in their own lives. She felt like she was drowning, surrounded by people but she was so completely alone. The city would rather see her leave before she died, save them all the trouble of cleaning up her corpse.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she breathed, her voice barely audible. The nausea surged, and she swallowed it back, clutching her stomach as she forced herself forward. She found an empty space by a fountain and sank down in it, the cool spray of water misting her face as she tried to steady her ragged breathing. The sound of the fountain was a steady, gentle rush, but it did nothing to drown out the growing panic clawing at her insides. She felt utterly, completely alone.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    <hr>

    It took her over an hour to calm down enough to lift her head. She clenched her jaw, fighting the tremor that lingered in her hands. So what? She was still a reincarnator, right? She knew enough of the future to survive, and she had¡­well, almost had a diploma from a reputable online school for marketing. That had to mean something. Her life wasn¡¯t supposed to be about some lousy caf¨¦ job or the petty people inside it. Even if all she¡¯d ever done here was work, sleep, and repeat.

    ¡°Wow,¡± she muttered, blinking as the realization settled over her. Is that all I¡¯ve been doing? Going to work, working, and heading home to crash, day in and day out? She wanted to believe she was enjoying her new life, but now that she thought about it, she was just¡­drifting. Almost every night, she dreamed of a life in glowing colors, one where she felt whole¡ªa life that belonged to the original Rose, a past she could only glimpse in dreams. But was this life really any better?

    Taking a deep breath, she looked at the fountain¡¯s rippling water, her reflection wavering on its surface. I¡¯ve been granted a second life, and all I¡¯ve done is wait tables in some glorified tavern, she thought, biting her lip. Richmand could suck it; that wasn¡¯t a caf¨¦, it was a restaurant¡ªbarely even that. And who was he to call her pathetic? The man thought he was some hotshot manager of a caf¨¦ when he was running a dive bar for workers.

    She chuckled under her breath, feeling a lightness spreading through her as she stood. ¡°Well, buddy, you¡¯re more messed up than me,¡± she whispered, almost amused by the thought. The warmth of the day brushed her face, the gentle hum of people around her grounding her. She took a long, steadying breath. Maybe this could be the first day of something real, something hers. That job had belonged to the old Rose, the girl who ran away from home because of some unresolved love.

    But she? She knew life isn''t about the man you married. She should have quit a long time ago and lived.

    ¡°Alright, moving on.¡± She exhaled calmly, her voice clear and steady. Her hands no longer trembled, and her gaze lifted, focused and unflinching. When she thought about it, things didn¡¯t seem so bad. Her rent was paid, and she had time to find something new. With tensions rising in the south, there would be plenty of steady work to keep supplies moving, especially if a draft took most of the men away the women would find easy work to pick up the slack, as always. She chuckled. After all, it¡¯s not like the world was about to turn upside down overnight.

    The air smelled cleaner, sharper, like a faint promise, and the sunlight felt warmer than before as she set off toward home. She could even find a job closer to her apartment, something that didn¡¯t make her feel trapped. Suddenly the walk home felt lighter and she found herself enjoying it a lot more, her steps carrying a pep she hadn¡¯t felt in years.

 Chapter Six - Clouds on a Sunny Day

    The exhilaration in her chest vanished the moment she saw them. As she pushed her way through the bustling street toward her door, two hooded figures came into view, hunched over her entryway. One was a tall man with broad shoulders, while the other was small, almost half his height¡ªa child, swathed in a heavy robe that seemed to drown her small frame.

    Rose could just make out delicate hands peeking from the oversized sleeves, fingers clutching the man¡¯s coat with a tight, almost desperate grip. A chill twisted in Rose¡¯s stomach, her earlier thrill curdling into dread as she took in the scene.

    She blinked, willing herself to believe she¡¯d mistaken her door. But no. ¡°Rose! Answer!¡± The man¡¯s voice cut through the air, roughened by a cough that shook his frame.

    The smaller figure tugged on his sleeve, her voice trembling as she cried, ¡°Daddy!¡± Rose¡¯s heart jolted at the sound of his voice¡ªit was a voice she had heard countless times before, though only in the dreams of another rose¡¯s memories.

    ¡°Acker¡­¡± she whispered, barely daring to breathe.

    Her voice made him pause, his arm braced against the door as though it alone held him upright. Slowly, he turned to face her, lowering his hood to reveal long, dark hair, framing strong, dirt stained and weathered features. Yet his eyes remained clear, glinting a brilliant shade of violet in the dimming light, pierced through her as sharply as they had in memories she couldn¡¯t quite claim as her own and she found her own breath caught by his gaze.

    A sudden pounding filled Rose''s chest, each heartbeat pressing painfully against her ribs as she took an involuntary step back. It was him¡ªthe man she¡¯d seen only in fragments of dreams of haunting memories. The man whose betrayal had scarred the original Rose so deeply, she fled hundreds of miles just to escape the memory.

    With everything that changed within the young Rose herself, she found herself unable to fathom a strange, stubborn warmth for him¡ªas if she herself held a torch for him.Though the original Rose was long gone, her love lingered, as if leaving a permanent imprint behind.

    It caused her heart to squeeze as he smiled, his voice soft as he murmured her name. ¡°Rose.¡± For a brief, disorienting moment, everything around her faded, the world narrowing until he was the only thing in it.

    It was at that moment that the current Rose understood the meaning of the word, ¡®love¡¯.

    Then he coughed, doubling over, the frailty in his body stark against the strength in his voice. The child beside him reached out, her small hand grasping his sleeve as she cried, ¡°Daddy!¡± Her face was still hidden beneath the hood, but Rose caught a glimpse of eyes just like his¡ªbrilliant, worried, and unmistakably violet.

    This small action allowed Rose to reclaim herself, and come to her senses. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Rose asked, her voice tinged with suspicion, unable to mask the edge of wariness at the sudden appearance of this man who carried with him a young girl that called him daddy.

    Acker grunted, managing a strained smile despite the discomfort that twisted his features. ¡°Mind inviting us in?¡± he asked, nodding toward the girl beside him. ¡°She could use a rest. We¡¯ve been on the road for¡­¡± His voice trailed off as he winced, clutching his side as though the words themselves took too much effort.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Rose replied, the words coming out almost automatically. She hurried to unlock the door,  her hands shaking as she pulled the key from her dress, fumbling slightly as she put the key in to unlock it and turn the latch. She held it open, and Acker gently urged the girl forward. ¡°Come on,¡± he murmured warmly. The girl slipped inside, casting cautious glances between Acker and Rose, her small, guarded face barely visible under the hood.

    As they entered, Rose felt a pang of cold realization settle in her chest as her gaze fell over the disarray of her home. She swallowed, heat rising in her cheeks at the thought of them, of him, seeing her home like this. If only they¡¯d come tomorrow, she thought, she would have definitely cleaned up by then. But deep down, she knew that tomorrow wouldn¡¯t have looked any better.

    Inside, Rose guided them to what passed for a couch in this world¡ªa broad, hard wooden bench softened only by a threadbare blanket, half of it burned, the worst cut while it singed at the edges and half-draped over the seat. She noticed its worn state with a pang of embarrassment, her cheeks warming as she imagined how it must look to them, her living in this filth. But she forced the thought away, for now, she¡¯d have to ignore the mess, the signs of her solitary, pathetic life.

    As Rose helped him settle, Acker gently pulled down the girl¡¯s hood, revealing a small, delicate face. She looked about six years old, her cheeks pale beneath a layer of dust and dirt smudged across her forehead and around her nose. Stray, tangled strands of dark hair escaped from her hood, matted from the grime of the road. Her tiny fingers clutched the edge of her father¡¯s robe with a fierce, protective grip, her gaze lifting to meet Rose¡¯s with an unwavering, guarded expression. In her eyes, a striking shade of deep blue mirrored Acker¡¯s perfectly¡ªa sure sign of who she was.

    Acker confirmed what Rose had already begun to suspect. ¡°This is my daughter, Dahlia,¡± he said with a small, tired smile. ¡°Dahl, this is your aunt, Rose.¡±

    Rose felt awkward at the introduction, not knowing exactly how to handle children, still she knelt down to meet Dahlia¡¯s gaze, the room growing quiet as she took in the girl¡¯s familiar features. Her resemblance to Iris was undeniable, the mirror of a young girl from a memory decades old. Yet it was the girl¡¯s dark blue eyes, so like his, that burned her heart.

    This was Dahlia, the heroine of Fille Delose, standing face to face with the story''s first minor villain. Yet, with her father beside her, calling Rose her aunt, the guarded expression of the child softened just a bit. Betrayed by family, just as what was written.

    ¡°My Aunt?¡± Dahlia repeated, blinking in surprise. Her expression faltered, the layers of defense falling away as she looked up at Rose with new curiosity. The exhaustion of the journey etched lines of tension into her face, but in this moment, those lines seemed to ease, her small shoulders sagging in relief. Her lip quivered, and then, she stumbled forward almost falling but Rose surprised herself as she managed to catch the small girl. She clung to her looking up into her eyes.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°Is Mommy here?¡± Dahlia choked out, her voice cracking as she buried herself against Rose, clinging tightly to her with small, desperate hands. ¡°She¡¯s here, right? Mommy¡¯s here!¡± Her fingers dug into Rose¡¯s dress, as she searched Rose¡¯s face, her eyes full of pleading, innocent hope.

    Rose¡¯s throat tightened, her own heart pounding at the realization of what this child¡¯s presence meant. How horrible her question was. She glanced at Acker, unable to even find words. His face had grown pale, and though he offered her a faint, steadying look, there was no denying the weight of truth behind it.

    The story was proceeding as originally planned.

    ¡°Dahl, baby,¡± Acker¡¯s voice was soft, tinged with exhaustion and an ache that made Rose¡¯s chest hurt. ¡°Let Auntie Rose breathe for a moment. Mommy¡¯s¡­ she¡¯s on her way¡ªshe might not be here yet, but she¡­ she will be.¡± His gaze met Rose¡¯s, and in that brief exchange, understanding crossed between the two. Iris was lost and judging by the deep color of red on his robe¡­

    Rose¡¯s stomach clenched at the realization. A fell on her coin purse, the worn leather heavy with only six worn ¨¦tain coins. In this part of town, it could buy enough, but it wouldn¡¯t allow her a chance to save him.

    ¡°But Mommy said she¡¯d meet us here,¡± Dahlia whispered, her fingers tightening their hold on Rose¡¯s dress. She turned back toward Acker, her small face crumpling, disappointment deepening the shadows under her eyes.

    Rose¡¯s gaze shifted to Acker¡¯s grimace, his hand pressed firmly against the darkening stain on his side. His breaths came shallow and uneven, each one a visible struggle. ¡°I should find a priest,¡± she murmured, her voice hollow as the words that left her lips.

    Acker straightened slightly, trying to appear unbothered. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± he replied, a little too loudly, managing a strained nod as his eyes flicked toward Dahlia, a silent reassurance meant for her. ¡°Come here, Dahl. Give Aunt Rosie a bit of space.¡±

    He offered a faint, wavering smile, though his face remained pale. Dahlia did as she was told and left Rose, moving back to her father. Acker lifted her onto his lap, though the movement clearly strained him; his jaw tightened as he suppressed a grimace of pain.

    ¡°Mommy will be here, right?¡± Dahlia asked again, her pleading voice barely more than a whisper.

    ¡°Yes, little one,¡± he whispered, smoothing her hair with a tender hand.

    ¡°I¡­ I should get¡­ water.¡± Rose¡¯s voice sounded too loud in the quiet room, and she turned abruptly, moving toward the kitchen in search of a clean mug¡ªany mug, really.

    Her hands shook as she spent time finding two small clay cups. Grabbing a rag, she quickly ran it over them, but her hands wouldn¡¯t steady and she couldn''t calm her breathing. She tossed the rag aside in frustration. ¡°Damn it,¡± she muttered into the basin of water as she steadied herself with a deep breath. She filled both cups with water, trying to calm the tremor in her fingers before walking back to them.

    ¡°Shh,¡± Acker motioned for her to be silent, his other hand gently stroking Dahlia¡¯s hair. ¡°She just fell asleep.¡± He smiled down at his daughter, a soft, weary expression that could only come from the pride and love of a parent.

    Rose paused, momentarily stunned by the sight of him¡ªthis quiet, vulnerable side she hadn¡¯t imagined before. She nodded, stepping forward to hand him a glass, taking a sip from the other in a vain attempt to compose herself.

    ¡°What¡­ what happened?¡± she whispered after awhile. ¡°Where is Iris, why are you here¡ªhow are you here?¡±

    Each question felt heavy and somehow wrong, but she wanted to know, needed to know. Did they get her letter? Was there something more she could have done? The real questions, the deeper ones, lurked just beneath, begging to be asked, though she couldn¡¯t bring herself to voice them.

    Acker¡¯s faint smile faded, his hand stilling as it came to rest gently on Dahlia¡¯s head. She had fallen asleep on his lap, her small form curled trustingly against him, one tiny hand clutching his tunic. He swallowed, lifting his gaze to Rose, and when he spoke, his voice was raw. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t really understand, but¡­¡± His words caught, thick with grief. ¡°Your dad¡­ he saved us. Your mom, Iris, Dahlia, and me¡­¡± there was a heavy silence in that moment he paused, blinking in uncertainty before he found a way to continue . ¡°But there were just¡­ too many¡­ things.¡± His head shook slowly, his hand trembling slightly as he ran it through his hair. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what they were. Iris pushed Dahlia into my arms¡­¡±

    He blinked, and his eyes took on a glassy sheen, unshed tears pooling as if, only now, he was beginning to process what exactly happened. His hand returned to Dahlia¡¯s head, stroking it in slow, rhythmic motions, as though he could ground himself in the simple comfort of the gesture.

    ¡°Your dad¡­ he kept tabs on you,¡± Acker continued, his voice barely more than a murmur. ¡°His connection to the lord is what let us know where you were, but¡­¡± His gaze drifted over the room, but his expression remained hollow, his eyes not truly seeing the disorder around them. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ nice,¡± he said, almost mechanically, as though grasping for something ordinary to say.

    Rose¡¯s lips pressed together. ¡°I¡¯ve done well,¡± she murmured, her own voice faint and hollow, but what else could she say?

    Her eyes dropped to Dahlia, curled peacefully in her father¡¯s lap, her face softened in sleep. She was so small, so fragile¡ªand yet, this was only to be the beginning.

    ¡°So¡­ Iris is¡­¡± The words faltered, trailing off. She needed confirmation. Else that small seed of warm hope would burn deeply in her chest.

    The answer was there in Acker¡¯s eyes, a broken, tear-filled look of absolute loss. ¡°Lost in the mist,¡± he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. The word echoed in Rose¡¯s mind¡ªmist. She held onto that strange phrase, letting it linger. It sounded oddly poetic, didn¡¯t it? Like something out of a sad, old tale. Mist. Cold, formless, a fate without closure. The word hung in the air, dense and suffocating, yet somehow not final enough. Gone, dead, lost¡ªthose were words with edges, brutal and conclusive. But mist? It was almost worse, as if her family had drifted away into something unreachable, still there but shrouded.

    Rose could only shake her head, her chest tightening with an emptiness that felt infinite. ¡°Mom? Dad?¡± she asked, her voice so quiet it barely broke the silence, as if she were seeking confirmation for something she already sensed but didn¡¯t want to believe.

    ¡°They¡¯re all gone,¡± he managed, his voice dropping to a strained whisper.

    What could she possibly say to that? It wasn¡¯t truly her family, was it? The original Rose was gone long before they were. She tried to convince herself of this, as if distancing herself from them might dull the raw emotion gripping her heart. But her body felt paralyzed. A part of her clung to a faint disbelief, an instinctive resistance to accept that this was real. She hadn¡¯t seen them in over six years¡ªlonger, really, considering she¡¯d never known them at all.

    Yet, knowing that now they were gone stirred something within her. This wasn¡¯t supposed to hurt this much, was it?

    ¡°Ink on a page.¡± she muttered so quietly she didn''t know if she said the words aloud. But it didn''t help.

    In the end, Dahlia¡¯s soft breaths were the only sound in the room, her innocent slumber oblivious to the heaviness that surrounded them.

    The start of her new life suddenly felt hollow, overshadowed by the chains of the original story. She had always disliked tales where the heroine was overly aware of the original story, seeing it as some ethereal force that dictated their lives. And yet here she was, chilled by the thought that the day she had finally decided to live again¡ªher first day of a new beginning¡ªhad started on the darkest of notes.

 Chapter Seven - The Girl Left Behind

    ¡°Do you have a bed?¡± Acker asked, finally breaking the silence.

    ¡°A bed? Ah, yes.¡± Rose blinked a few times, snapping out of her daze before guiding Acker to that room that held her bed and kitchen. He gently lifted Dahlia into his arms, carrying her over to the bed and laying her carefully on the straw mattress. He pulled a worn blanket off the floor, its rough edges fraying, and tucked it around her. Rose blinked again, surprised to find it there¡ªhow long had she had that exactly?

    They left Dahlia to rest, returning to the entryway. Acker turned to Rose, his voice low and heavy. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t let her see what happens next.¡±

    Rose stared at him, a knot forming in her stomach. ¡°What¡­ happens next?¡± The room grew quiet, her question hanging in the air.

    Acker gave her a weary smile, shaking his head slowly. ¡°Tell her I went to get her mother, that I¡¯ll be right back.¡± His gaze drifted to the doorway, where Dahlia lay sleeping peacefully on the bed, unaware of the tension beyond the walls.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Rose¡¯s voice was urgent. But Acker simply headed to the door. Walking away without another glance back. In a panic Rose reached for his sleeve, ¡°Wait!¡± grabbing hold of him just as he started to turn. The sudden tug pulled his robe aside, revealing the fabric beneath¡ªand what lay beneath that.

    Rose gasped as the thin, bloodstained shirt shifted, exposing the horrors beneath it. Acker¡¯s torso was clawed open with some horrid weapon or claws. It was held together by scraps of dark rags, soaked with blood, leaving him vry little for himself. The wounds were darkened with dried blood and raw at the edges while his belly was hung half opened.

    The sight made the color drain from her. It seemed impossible that he was still standing, let alone speaking. Once again she was reminded about the story. Dahlia¡¯s parents were killed early on. Leaving her alone with the evil aunt.

    Acker groaned, looking miserably at her. He managed a weary smile. ¡°Help me get back into that, would you?¡± he asked. A chill overtook Rose, numbing her entirely as she picked up the cloak that had tumbled to the ground, assisting him as he wrapped it back around his battered frame.

    He turned, giving her one last smile. ¡°Take care of her,¡± he murmured before turning to leave.

    ¡°Head north,¡± she called out as he reached her door. He stopped, not even glancing over his shoulder. ¡°Once you see a statue of a man on a horse, turn left. Keep going until the guards stop you. Tell them¡­ tell them you want to request Oranpr¨¦fieu. The church there¡­ They do charity healings sometimes. It helps their image.¡± Her voice shook as she spoke, the words feeling hollow in her mouth.

    A heavy sense of dread weighed down on her even as she made the suggestion. A charitable healing¡ªa fleeting mercy that might never even come. It was rare in the novel coming out mainly to placate the people. But they hadn''t the coin for anything that might¡­ save him.

    Acker nodded and with that, he was gone.

    As the door closed, Rose fell to her knees, strength evaporating from her body like ice thrown into fire. The hopelessness of it all pressed down on her, leaving her feeling as cold and empty as the room he had just left.

    <hr>

    By the time Rose collected herself, the residents of Pelteman were already beginning to clean up for the day. Realizing this, she quickly stood, panic prickling at her skin with the sudden, terrifying realization: Acker had appeared so suddenly, and then just as quickly, he had disappeared¡ªleaving behind a child. A child. She couldn¡¯t take care of a child; she barely had enough food for herself. Without a second thought, she sprinted down the street.

    There was a tiny woman all residents on this road knew. The old bat in the neighborhood, outlived three husbands and had no children by any of them. She had taken in her third husband¡¯s daughter, who abandoned her as soon as she got married. She never let anyone forget about that ungrateful¡­cow.

    Now, the old woman had moved to this district, using what little coin she had left and bringing with her a skill few others possessed: cooking. She sold completed meals, she cooked all day, it was what she did with her life, all she did with her life. However, while they were cheap there was another price one had to pay.

    She was one of the few who never packed up her stall at the end of the day; at nearly fifty, she was well past the age of caring about guards or their silly little fines, and the guards wouldn''t fine the street''s favorite, not when she could drop dead any day now.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Rose found her sitting in her chair, looking cross as usual. The old woman sat with her small, weathered arms crossed, leaning back in her seat. Her short, curly white hair had clearly been cut short by a knife simply because she couldn''t be bothered anymore. Her face was lined with age and weariness, and her piercing green eyes narrowed as Rose approached.

    "Closed," the old woman said flatly.

    "Ah." Rose shifted on her feet, glancing back at her home. "Well, the thing is¡­" How was she going to explain this? Could she even tell the truth¡ªwould that work?

    She was fine with cabbage soup herself, but Dahlia had just come from a long journey, after something traumatic. Right now, the girl was only resting peacefully because her father had promised they were safe, and she still believed she was in his arms. Soon she would wake up to find him gone, left with a woman she¡¯d only met minutes before¡ªand Rose would have to break the news no child should ever hear.

    She swallowed dryly. The girl could use a good meal. She could lie¡­ Lies had once come easily to her, as natural as breathing. She¡¯d lied to her friends, to her family¡ªeven to herself. Especially to herself. But she didn¡¯t want to lie anymore. She was finally free of them¡­ She shook her head. "Uh¡­ so¡­" she managed, her voice dry and strained.

    The woman¡¯s eyes narrowed further. "Closed," she repeated, her tone firmer.

    Rose took a steadying breath. ¡°My sister¡­ she died.¡± The words slipped out easily, almost too easily, and the bluntness of them surprised her.

    The woman hummed, her expression barely softening. "Still closed," she said, though Rose wondered if she imagined a slight softening in the old woman¡¯s tone, just a hint of sympathy beneath the hard edges.

    But then the woman waved her off. ¡°Closed, piss off.¡±

    At least she knew now she¡¯d imagined the sympathy. Still, there was something oddly comforting in the fact that this old woman hadn¡¯t changed one bit. Dismissive, crude, and blunt¡ªbut she never changed.

    Something about that allowed her to breathe easier. "Her husband came by, brought their daughter, and then¡­" She shook her head, feeling the knot in her throat tighten. "He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s not coming back."

    The old woman sighed, glancing down the road with a detached, almost bored expression. "Ditch the girl."

    "What?" Rose was stunned by the woman¡¯s words.

    "They¡¯re ungrateful wretches, all of ¡¯em.¡± she answered smoothly, watching the rest of the street finish breaking down their makeshift stalls. ¡°Better to let them fend for themselves." She nodded down the southern road. "Orphanage¡¯ll take her. She¡¯ll make a fine toy for some nobleman."

    It took a few more blinks for Rose to fully process what was just said. She shook her head. ¡°I¡­ I just need a meal for today. She¡¯s come from¡­ god knows where, and she just¡­ I just need a day.¡± Rose¡¯s words tumbled out, her breath coming faster as she spoke.

    The old woman sighed heavily. Jerking her head toward the wall beside her. ¡°Sit.¡±

    Rose looked around, hesitating. The wall was made of rough stone, interconnected from one building to the next, giving the street a cramped, almost fortress-like feeling. Yet in this narrow, oppressive space, next to the crankiest woman on the street, Rose found herself sinking down onto the hard ground, letting herself breathe. Here, she was able to pause and process everything that had just happened.

    She didn¡¯t know how long she sat there, only that when she finally stood, the old woman had a large plate of food held out to her. ¡°Trash,¡± she muttered dismissively, thrusting it into Rose¡¯s hands. ¡°Bring back the plate after you throw it away.¡±

    Rose felt her nose sting, fighting the burn of tears as she tried to keep her composure. She managed a small nod. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said softly, taking the food.

    ¡°Thank me after you save yourself the trouble.¡± The old woman waved a dismissive hand, brushing her own words away. ¡°That girl will not be worth your time.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Rose bit her lip, then nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡± With that, she turned and left, feeling the evening chill wrapping itself around her as she made her way back home.

    She entered her house quietly and found that Dahlia was still asleep. The poor girl must have been through so much. Moving as softly as she could, Rose placed the plate of food on the small table. It was quite a generous portion¡ªa modest pile of roasted root vegetables, some barley bread, and a small portion of stewed beans. She then realized she never paid her. The whole plate would cost more than she had but¡­ she shook her head. She wouldn''t demand payment afterwards right?

    Her gaze drifted to Dahlia, curled up in her bed, wrapped snugly in the blanket. She looked so peaceful now. So untouched by the hardships that had brought her here, it was hard to imagine the grand destiny awaiting her. The fact that in all her misery, this was only the beginning for her.

    Rose slipped out of the room, finding her usual spot on the bench in the other room and pulling the blanket around herself. She felt a pang of regret at losing her bed but knew there wasn¡¯t much difference between that thin layer of straw and the solid wood beneath her. Still, it had been one hell of a day.

    She lay awake, her mind spinning through thoughts of the future, the past, and the stark reality that she no longer had a job and was now expected to take care of a child. The woman¡¯s words echoed in her mind¡ªcrude, but maybe with a grain of truth. The orphanage did take care of children, even if some nobles selected them for dubious reasons. Most were adopted harmlessly enough, and at least the children had warm food, beds, and blankets. The caretakers knew what they were doing, and most of the orphans had lost their parents. That was what an orphan was right?

    But¡­ Acker might return. There was still that slim hope he might find healing. This was a fantasy world after all, there was always hope¡­ always.

 Chapter Eight ? The Fox in the Forest

    A young girl stood awestruck in the merchant row, a bustling street in the old village where caravans gathered to sell their wares. She had charming auburn hair cropped to her neck, and her wide amber eyes shone with wonder as she gazed at the caravans that were turned into makeshift stalls. Her attention was fixed on a simple white dress adorned with delicate embroidery¡ªa pattern of roses, just like her namesake. Five small roses decorated the bottom left of the dress, climbing gently upward. Though subtle, the design captivated her with its charm.

    ¡°And it¡¯s cheap too!¡± the merchant chimed in. ¡°Some noble girl was practicing the design for her daughter and just tossed it aside. A maid picked it up and fashioned it into a dress! There wasn¡¯t enough fabric for anything larger, but that¡¯s your luck little one, it would fit you quite well. The price is only 12 ¨¦tains!¡±

    ¡°12 ¨¦tains?¡± Rose repeated, thinking about the coins. ¨¦tain was the dull, small ones, mostly silver but covered in some coarse red stuff. Daddy had plenty of those, but¡­ to use 12 of them? Rose tilted her head, concentrating hard. She looked down at her hands, counting her fingers¡ªone, two, three, four, five¡­ all the way up to ten. But there weren¡¯t twelve fingers. ¡°Twelve¡­¡± she muttered, a determined frown creasing her face as she tried to figure it out.

    It was more than a bushel¡ªmore than her pillarly allowance. Her parents let her spend ten coins each pillar, but¡­ how much more was twelve? She rarely used her allowance, so maybe they¡¯d let her borrow a little extra this time. Iris always managed to get more out of them, so why couldn¡¯t she?

    The merchant chuckled good-naturedly. ¡°Can¡¯t quite get to twelve, can you?¡± he asked, amused.

    Rose¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°I can!¡± she insisted, looking back down at her fingers. ¡°One, two¡­ thwee¡­¡± She counted up to ten again, but still couldn¡¯t reach twelve. Frustration crept in as she stood there, glancing between her hands and the dress.

    Eventually, the merchant took pity on her. ¡°Alright, how many fingers do you have?¡± he asked gently, kneeling down to her level with a soft smile.

    Rose looked down at her hands, concentration scrunching up her little nose. ¡°One, two¡­¡± she began counting again, her fingers wiggling with each number. The merchant chuckled as she went through each finger with fresh enthusiasm.

    ¡°Ten!¡± she announced proudly, spreading her fingers out and beaming.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he replied with a grin. ¡°Now, can you remember that ten?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Ten is ten!¡± she said confidently, bouncing on her heels, clearly pleased with herself.

    ¡°Very good. Now, can you imagine taking ten away from twelve?¡± he asked, watching her carefully.

    ¡°Twelve¡­¡± she echoed, her gaze falling back to her hands. ¡°Twelve¡­¡± The frown was back, her brows furrowing with the effort to imagine something beyond her fingers.

    ¡°Can you count all the way up to twenty?¡± he asked, trying to help her along.

    ¡°Twenty? No, we only need to know that one bushel is ten!¡± Rose replied, a big smile on her round face.

    The merchant stifled a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. She was so determined, and he didn''t want her to think he was making fun of her adorable little attitude.. ¡°I see. So, you¡¯ve never heard of twelve before?¡±

    Rose tapped her chin thoughtfully, her little face scrunched in concentration. ¡°Ation says twelve and something else¡­ eleven?¡± she added, remembering a word she¡¯d heard from her brother. ¡°And he puts ¡®teen¡¯ after lots of numbers a lot too!¡±

    ¡°Ah, clever,¡± the merchant said, nodding encouragingly. ¡°Well, ¡®teen¡¯ usually means there¡¯s already a bushel, or ten. So fifteen means one bushel plus five. It¡¯s the same for twenty and thirty. Twenty-five, for example, means two bushels¡ªor two tens¡ªand another five. Understand?¡±

    Rose blinked up at him, her amber eyes twinkling with curiosity. ¡°So¡­ ¡®teen¡¯ means a bushel, and ¡®twone¡¯ means two bushels¡­¡± She glanced down at her fingers, then back up at him with a spark of realization. ¡°But what about twelve?¡±

    The merchant nodded, smiling warmly. ¡°Ah, twelve and eleven are a little special. Twelve is sort of like¡­ ¡®twoteen,¡¯ and eleven is like ¡®oneteen.¡¯ Why they¡¯re different? Well¡­¡± He shrugged with a grin. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure.¡±

    ¡°Then why not just say oneteen and twoteen?¡± Rose asked, frowning slightly as she tried to puzzle it out.

    The merchant chuckled. ¡°Because we didn¡¯t create the language of Fleural. It was made by some very old nobles, a long time ago.¡±

    Rose tilted her head, the new word catching her attention. ¡°Fleural?¡± she repeated, sounding it out, her tiny tongue tripping on the syllables.

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the name of the language we¡¯re speaking. It¡¯s the language of our country. Do you know what your country is called?¡± he asked gently, a soft smile playing on his face.

    ¡°Sayotheo!¡± she replied confidently, beaming.

    He laughed. ¡°Sayotheo is the name of this village,¡± he explained. ¡°It¡¯s not the name of the kingdom that Sayotheo belongs to.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not?¡± Rose asked, her brow knitting in confusion.

    ¡°No,¡± he continued patiently. ¡°Your village, Sayotheo, is part of the Grai¨¦nelle Kingdom. And the kingdom is-¡± he smiled, chuckling as he continued. ¡°94 bushels old, plus another eight. Can you count that high?¡±

    Little Rose blinked, cocking her head as she tried to wrap her mind around it. ¡°Ninety-four bushels¡­ that¡¯s¡­¡± She looked down at her hands, her eyes widening as the numbers swelled in her mind. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of bushels!¡± she cried out.

    The merchant laughed heartily. ¡°That¡¯s right! Tell you what, little girl¡ªbring me a bushel of tin coins, and the dress is yours. Fair deal?¡±

    Rose¡¯s eyes lit up, excitement shining in her gaze. ¡°Yeah!¡± she nodded, her voice full of determination. ¡°Ah, I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll be back soon!¡± she promised, then darted off with eager strides. She needed ten coins. If her math was right¡ªand she was pretty sure it was¡ªthat should just about cover her allowance. But¡­ what if it wasn¡¯t enough?

    She paused, her eyes drifting toward the village border, where the grand forest loomed just beyond. Daddy had taken her there a few times, but she¡¯d always been told never to go alone. Still, there was a plant that could fetch a whole coin per bushel¡­

    They were hard to find, but Rose was good at spotting things. She just needed ten bushels of the right plant, and she¡¯d be rich enough to buy the dress on her own. Ten tens. She glanced around; no one was close enough to tell her what she should do¡­

    ¡°It¡¯ll be quick¡­¡± she whispered to herself after some thought. ¡°Shouldn''t be a problem.¡±

    When Rose arrived at the forest¡¯s edge, her steps faltered. The trees towered above her, stretching endlessly toward the sky, their leaves tangled and shadowed like a giant¡¯s fingertips pressing against the clouds. Light filtered through in uneven patches, casting strange shadows that danced and shifted on the ground, turning them into living things hiding secrets of a dark and sinister nature.

    She shivered, glancing back toward the village. It was safe there, with its neat huts and tidy paths. Her parents might even give her the money if she asked¡­ right? Ten coins were a lot, though¡ªa whole pillar¡¯s worth of saving. A long time, she thought, and they said no before¡­

    She took a deep breath and steadied herself, taking one step, then another. Each step was easier than the next and soon enough she forgot the fear she felt earlier. Vanishing like morning mist as her eyes scanned the ground.

    She searched for a familiar bush, one with small white flowers and leaves edged with tiny, tilted saw teeth. It was extremely different from others that looked just like it. She¡¯d seen it many times before on walks with her father. They would look for it together¡ªthey were important, for some reason. And not because it could be sold for a coin if you picked it but because chewing it made your stomach hurt less. It was these pain away plants that she needed and luckily it wasn¡¯t long before she found her first plant¡ªa small bush with seven delicate white flowers.

    She counted them on her hand, one was spread out with all five fingers and two on the other. On the right there was one left when she figured out halves and two on the other. Pushing the one finger there were three fingers. That ment she can take three of the fingers from the bush. Otherwise the gods would be mad at them. At her, and her father made it very clear you do not want to make the gods mad.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Rose knelt down, carefully pulling the small, delicate flowers from the base where the stem rose from its bushy roots, it came out easily with a pinch and a gentle twist, allowing her to collect each one in her small hands. With that she had three Racinsain flowers. Just seven more, and she¡¯d have one full bushel¡ªOne ¨¦tains. Her heart swelled, it was easy! She looked over the forest edge and still saw the traces of her village just beyond the trees. She continued her hunt.

    Rose didn¡¯t know how much time had passed, only that her hands were now filled with forty-one delicate Racinsain flowers, stalks and all. The forest around her was hushed and still, with only the occasional rustle of leaves to break the silence. Every now and then, a bunny or bird darted through her vision, their quick, soft movements a delight that made her pause to watch them in their world. Yet there was one sound¡ªa low, distinct rustle¡ªthat pricked at her senses, drawing her attention with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

    Looking up, Rose found herself locking eyes with a small creature nestled between the branches, watching her just as intently. For a heartbeat, they both froze¡ªa little girl and a young fox, each staring with wide eyes. Rose¡¯s fingers tightened around her bouquet of flowers, her breath held as she took in the fox¡¯s delicate, watchful face. She didn¡¯t realize she was simply looking at a kit playing nearby, nor did he register her as any different then those big burrowing hunters from that same village. So, they sat there, suspended in time, two young souls staring deeply into each other¡¯s eyes.

    A soft rustle broke the spell, and the fox¡¯s mother appeared, her gaze assessing Rose before nudging her little one protectively. The kit shook himself from the trance, looking back at Rose once before following his mother into the undergrowth, leaving Rose standing there, her heart still racing.

    Rose glanced around, suddenly aware of the looming shadows and realizing with a jolt that she wasn¡¯t quite sure where she was. The towering trees suddenly seemed to cage her inside the forest, leaving her no way to eye her home. She trembled, afraid but managed to steadied herself enough to recall the path she¡¯d taken.

    Turning, she began to retrace her steps, heading toward the berry bush that looked kind of like a rabbit, then to the tree root that curled just so, causing her to mistake it for an owl. She followed these familiar markers, sights she¡¯d only noticed in passing as she played around. Before long, she spotted it: the familiar tree that the village used to mark the forest¡¯s edge. It was an old tree that they would never cut down, allowing it to tower over the small regrowth like a beacon.

    The moment she saw the village, she broke into a run, her breath coming faster but feeling lighter with each step toward home. She dashed forward without thinking and only stopped when she was surrounded by familiar people, in a familiar place feeling the village¡¯s familiar warmth. After some time to collect herself she found that she was in the marketplace, her excitement and relief growing as she scanned the stalls.

    Her eyes landed on Jasmine, her mother¡¯s friend, a large woman known for her hearty laughter and the ever-present snack in her hand as she waited for customers. Jasmine¡¯s round face lit up when she spotted Rose.

    ¡°Hello, little Rose!¡± Jasmine greeted her warmly. ¡°What brings you here today?¡±

    Rose placed her collection of herbs proudly on the counter. ¡°I want to exchange, please!¡± she chirped, her voice bubbling with excitement.

    ¡°Oh, your mother sent you ahead, did she?¡± Jasmine asked with a knowing smile.

    ¡°No!¡± Rose said, beaming. ¡°I found them all by myself!¡±

    ¡°You picked them yourself?¡± Jasmine asked, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Rose nodded enthusiastically, clutching her flowers tightly.

    ¡°Did you now?¡± Jasmine¡¯s eyes sparkled with amusement. ¡°Must be something special you¡¯re saving up for, huh? Something important?¡±

    Rose¡¯s eyes lit up, and she nodded again. ¡°Yes! How did you know?¡± she asked, her voice brimming with excitement.

    Jasmine laughed, reaching out to gently ruffle Rose¡¯s hair. ¡°Well, why else would you risk your mother¡¯s ire, hmm?¡±

    Rose paused, tilting her head. ¡°Ire?¡± she echoed, unfamiliar with the word.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Jasmine waved it off with a chuckle, glancing down at the flowers in her hands. ¡°Hmm, you¡¯ve collected quite a bit here. I¡¯ll give you three ¨¦tains for them.¡±

    ¡°Three?¡± Rose blinked in surprise. She looked over her bounty again, her fingers moving rapidly as she counted again. ¡°But there are four bushels.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± Jasmine admitted with a shrug, ¡°but prices change.¡±

    ¡°They do?¡± Rose¡¯s face scrunched up in confusion.

    ¡°Unfortunately, they do,¡± Jasmine replied, a gentle smile on her face. ¡°But three ¨¦tains is still pretty good¡ªand that¡¯s me being kind.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ thank you!¡± Rose replied, her disappointment fading into gratitude. She eagerly accepted the three coins Jasmine held out, cupping them carefully in both hands. ¡°Thanks!¡± And with that, she spun around and dashed off, not even noticing Jasmine¡¯s parting words of, ¡°Tell your mother I said hello!¡±

    Her excitement carried her all the way home, where she finally stopped in front of her door, catching her breath. Without waiting, she burst through, calling, ¡°Mommy!¡±

    She found her mother in the kitchen, busy chopping vegetables for dinner. Camellia jumped, nearly dropping the knife as she spun around, her eyes widening as she saw her daughter¡¯s gleeful expression. ¡°Gods above, Rosie! How many times have I told you not to burst through the door like that!¡±

    Rose barely seemed to hear, her face glowing as she ran up to her mother, holding out her hands to show off her hard-earned coins. ¡°Mom, look what I got!¡±

    Camellia¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the sight of the coins. ¡°Where on earth did you get that?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a man in the market selling a dress,¡± Rose explained eagerly, her words tumbling out in a rush. ¡°He said it was stitched by¡­ um, someone practicing embroidery. The fabric was leftover, so she gave it to a maid, who made it into a dress. It was 12 coins, but he took off two, so now it¡¯s only ten, Mommy! I have three, but I still need¡­¡± She looked down at her hands, carefully counting the coins. ¡°Two and five is¡­ seven? Yeah, seven coins, Mommy! I need seven more. And I was thinking¡­ since Daddy said we can spend ten coins a month, maybe I can borrow seven now to get the dress?¡±

    Her mother¡¯s expression shifted, her brows drawing together as she placed a hand on her hip. ¡°What dress, Rose? You were supposed to be with Iris at the Kemila House! Don¡¯t tell me you snuck off again!¡±

    Rose winced but tried to stand her ground. ¡°But it¡¯s boring, Mom! Iris and Agana just keep talking about their ¨¦panflor de Vie. They¡¯re not even ten years old yet!¡±

    Camellia¡¯s expression softened a bit, though she still held her gaze sternly on her daughter. ¡°Honey, that¡¯s because Margett and Calla just had their ceremony. Honestly, I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not talking about it with them. Aren¡¯t you excited for your special day? It only happens once in a lifetime.¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± Rose replied without a hint of hesitation. ¡°Anyway, I just need seven more coins for the dress.¡±

    Camellia sighed, shaking her head with a half-smile at her daughter¡¯s determination. ¡°And where did you get the coins you have now?¡±

    ¡°Sold some pain away I picked today.¡±

    ¡°Pain away¡ªRacinsain?¡± Camellia¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°Where did you find Racinsain?¡±

    Rose shifted, looking away. ¡°Anyway, the merchant¡¯s leaving tomorrow,¡± she muttered, trying to change the subject, but her mother wasn¡¯t having it.

    ¡°Rosie,¡± Camellia said, her tone firm, ¡°did you go into the forest?¡±

    Rose glanced at her mother and quickly looked away. ¡°Only a little,¡± she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

    Camellia¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°How many times have we told you never to enter that forest alone?¡±

    ¡°But Daddy takes us all the time!¡± Rose argued, crossing her arms defensively.

    ¡°With him!¡± Camellia¡¯s voice rose, her frustration boiling over. ¡°Rose des Sayotheo, you go straight to your room, young lady. I¡¯ll deal with you later!¡±

    ¡°But what about the dress?¡± Rose protested, her voice turning pleading.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry about something so silly,¡± Camellia shot back. ¡°You went into the woods alone, and that¡¯s far more serious. There will be no dress!¡±

    ¡°But, Mom¡ª¡± Rose tried one last time, but her mother¡¯s expression silenced her.

    ¡°Up to your room!¡± Camellia clapped her hands together, the sharp sound snapping through the room, and Rose scrambled toward the stairs, the sting of her mother¡¯s words echoing in her ears.

    Once alone in her room, Rose fumed, scowling as she shut the door behind her. ¡°It¡¯s not fair!¡± she muttered under her breath, her quiet yell was as loud as she dared. Her mother had good hearing after all. She stomped over to her bed, flopping down and burying her face in a bundle of distressed hay wrapped in thick linen, her pillow. As the disappointment weighed on her, she drifted into a restless sleep, still hugging the pillow tightly.

    A soft thud jolted her awake. She blinked, disoriented, just in time to see another pillow bounce beside her.

    ¡°You got me in trouble!¡± her sister Iris hissed from the doorway, glaring at her.

    Rose sat up, rubbing her eyes. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You told Mom you left Agana¡¯s house!¡± Iris accused, hands on her hips. ¡°She said I let you go off into the woods on your own!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± Rose¡¯s shoulders slumped, realizing she¡¯d dragged her sister into the mess.

    Iris huffed, crossing her arms. ¡°You should be!¡± she whispered harshly, then tutted, sighing as she rolled her eyes. ¡°Just don¡¯t do it again! Anyway, Mom says dinner is ready.¡± With that, Iris turned and left, while Rose scrambled to follow her.

    In the kitchen, Camellia had set the food neatly on the table. As everyone took their seats, she led them in prayer.

    ¡°May the Lords above our lives preserve,

    Lest trials lead us down below.

    Grant us strength in every meal,

    That we may honor, love, and grow.

    With thanks, we gather here today;

    In faith, we rise along the way.¡±

    Then she continued, moving on from the formal prayer. ¡°Let us also give thanks to the seven for allowing our youngest to return from the forest unharmed. And may we find strength to remind her of the forest¡¯s dangers, lest she venture alone again.¡± She opened her eyes, directing a pointed look at her husband, Rowan. ¡°And let¡¯s also remember that, as a family, we each have responsibilities. Such as not rewarding such behavior.¡±

    Rowan clicked his tongue, glancing back at her with a reluctant smile. ¡°What do you want me to say, Camellia? They¡¯re leaving tomorrow.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°We will not be rewarding this behavior,¡± she repeated firmly.

    ¡°We¡¯re not. But¡­ okay, okay. We¡¯ll talk about it later,¡± he conceded, his tone resigned.

    They began to eat in silence, the children blissfully unaware of the exchange and its meaning, while the adults continued their unspoken argument.

 Chapter Nine - The Next Day.

    Waking up in a cold sweat, Rose pushed herself upright from the wooden board that served as her bed. Her bones ached in protest, each movement burning her body with an ache. At least when she used the bed she was in a body already adjusted to its discomforts. As rose, burnt-out blanket slipped uselessly to her feet. She sat on the edge of the bench, letting out a long, weary sigh, her breath clouding slightly in the chill of the room.

    She rubbed her eyes, her fingers pressing into the sockets as if to push the grogginess away. Leaning back, she rested against the cold stone wall, not flinching from the icy bite that seeped through her thin clothes and into her skin. The numbness in her body mirrored the one she felt in her heart.

    The bitterness from that moment still lingered, clawing its way back into her thoughts. Not hers but the originals. Worse still, the coins were taken from the young girl. If only she had been a little smarter, Rose thought bitterly.  If only she had been a little smarter she could have marked the spot, or remembered it so that she could return for more later, but she was a child and had never recovered from that day. Never went into the forest again

    She shook her head sharply, dragging her thoughts back to the present. Rose rubbed her eyes once more, brushing the unwanted memories aside like cobwebs clinging to her mind. There was no use dwelling on the past, no point in grieving for a girl who was long gone. The original Rose was just a memory, a shadow.

    A soft shuffling sound drew her attention. Blinking, Rose looked up to find Dahlia standing in front of her. Clutching a pillow.

    Dahlia¡¯s lips trembled as she looked up at Rose, her small frame seeming even smaller in the dim light. ¡°I can¡¯t find Daddy,¡± she said, her voice quivering. Tears welled in her wide, innocent eyes as she repeated, more urgently this time, ¡°I can¡¯t find Daddy.¡±

    Rose¡¯s heart twisted painfully. She pushed herself off the bench and knelt before the little girl, pulling her into a hug. Dahlia¡¯s tiny hands clutched at her shirt, her sobs muffled against Rose¡¯s shoulder. Rose stroked her back gently, swallowing the lump in her throat as she searched desperately for the right words. How could she explain this? How could she tell a child so small that her father wasn¡¯t coming back? That her mother wasn¡¯t either?

    Her lip quivered, and she bit down on it, forcing herself to stay calm. She took a long, steady breath before speaking, her voice as soothing as she could manage. ¡°Your father went to find your mother,¡± she said, the words slipping from her lips like a heavy stone falling into still water. It was a lie, but she couldn¡¯t tell the truth.

    Acker was an asshole. Leaving Dahlia in her care and ditching the responsibility, trusting on to her the responsibility of not only taking care of the girl, but telling her about what happened to her parents. But what if¡­ what if Acker and Iris were still alive? If Acker and Dahlia had made it this far, perhaps there was hope. Iris was lost in the mist¡­ The thought flickered in her mind, fragile and fleeting. Wrong.

    And she knew it.

    ¡°Why did Daddy leave me?¡± Dahlia whimpered, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. ¡°Doesn¡¯t Daddy love me?¡±

    The question was a knife to Rose¡¯s heart. She gently pulled the girl back just enough to cup her face in her hands, wiping away her tears with her thumbs. ¡°No, no, don¡¯t like to think,¡± Rose said firmly, her voice trembling but resolute. ¡°Your father loves you more than anything in the world. Never doubt that.¡± The truth was easy, after all it was Rose who¡­ well, she could understand now. She clenched her teeth, forcing the thought form her head.

    Dahlia sniffled, her gaze searching Rose¡¯s face for reassurance.

    ¡°He left because he¡¯s worried about your mother,¡± Rose continued, her voice steady ¡°He needed to go quickly, and he couldn¡¯t take you with him because he wanted to make sure you were safe and needed to move quickly but that¡¯s how much he loves you, Dahlia¡ªhe wanted you somewhere safe while he looks after her.¡±

    ¡°But I want to find Mommy too,¡± Dahlia sobbed, her face buried against Rose¡¯s chest. Her small hands clung tightly to Rose¡¯s shirt, trembling as though afraid she might slip away too. Rose held her close, her arms wrapped protectively around the little girl, rocking her gently. She murmured soft, soothing words, her fingers brushing through Dahlia¡¯s hair in an attempt to ease her sorrow, even if only a little.

    Another lie. She¡¯d lied again¡ªfor the man the original Rose had loved. A man who had once inspired a devotion so deep it lingered long after her soul was gone.

    ¡°Your father asked me to watch over you until he gets back,¡± Rose said softly, forcing a smile as the lump in her throat grew heavier. ¡°He needed to focus on finding your mother, but he¡¯ll come back soon. Both of them will. They love you very much.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The words stung as she said them, each one a lie cloaked in the faint hope that somehow, someday, they might become true. That one day, Acker and Iris would return. She lied to the child as she spoke aloud a most desperate wish.

    ¡°Your father will be back,¡± she repeated, her voice firm despite the tears threatening to brim in her eyes. ¡°And you and your mother are more than welcome to stay here until then. Your daddy too.¡±

    Dahlia tilted her head, her wide eyes sparkling faintly with curiosity. ¡°Daddy too?¡±

    Rose chuckled softly, the sound light but tinged with emotion. ¡°Yes, of course, your daddy too,¡± she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of warmth as Dahlia caught onto her words so quickly.

    At this, Dahlia¡¯s face lit up, the only evidence of her earlier misery being the tear stains still glistening on her cheeks. ¡°Thank you,¡± she cheered,diving into Rose¡¯s arms once more.

    Rose held her close, stroking the back of her hair and murmuring soothing words. For a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed lighter, as if Rose¡¯s embrace could shield the little girl from all her fears.

    After some time Dahlia looked up at Rose. ¡°um¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Can, Is there any f-food?¡± her question was asked as she eyed the plate that Rose retrieved from the old bat.

    Oh, poor thing,¡± Rose murmured, her heart aching for the little girl. It must have been so much for Dahlia¡ªtraveling without coin, her dying father unable to do much to keep her belly full. The kindness of strangers was a rare thing in this world.

    Taking her gently by the hand, Rose led Dahlia to the table. She helped her climb onto the stool, kicking a few of her clothes underneath to keep it from shaking. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, little Dahlia. You can have it all.¡± she pulled the plate she received from the old bat---that is the nice old woman who gave her food.

    ¡°I can have it all?¡± Dahlia¡¯s eyes sparkled, as big as the plate before her.

    ¡°Of course!¡± Rose said, her voice brimming with encouragement. She picked up her only tin spoon, pressing it gently into the girl¡¯s small hands. ¡°Go on, eat up!¡±

    Dahlia hesitated, her fingers clutching the spoon as though it might disappear. She looked up at Rose uncertainly, her gaze darting back to the food. Tentatively, she scooped up a small bite and took a cautious nibble, her eyes flicking toward Rose. then back again. Another bite followed, then another, and soon enough, Dahlia was eating in earnest. Her little spoon filled rapidly, and her chubby cheeks puffed out as she chewed.

    While Dahlia focused on her plate, Rose busied herself in the background. She straightened the few remaining chairs, folded the worn blanket from her makeshift bed, and gathered stray scraps into a small pile to burn later.

    She glanced over her shoulder at Dahlia, who was now fully engrossed in her meal. A faint smile tugged at Rose¡¯s lips. The girl was eating like someone afraid the food might vanish/ With a soft sigh, she turned back to her cleaning, brushing stray crumbs from the table into her hand. It wasn¡¯t much, but at least the space now felt a little less chaotic.

    Dahlia struggled to keep her eyes open as she finished her meal, her small frame leaning heavily against the table.Rose noticed the little girl¡¯s exhaustion and moved to her side, gently lifting her into her arms. She was struck by how light Dahlia felt, almost weightless in her arms.

    Carrying her to the bed, Rose carefully laid Dahlia down and tucked the blanket snugly around her. The girl didn¡¯t stir; she was already fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Rose stood for a moment, watching her rest, before shaking her head.

    ¡°All right then,¡± she muttered to herself, her voice low. ¡°Two things. I need two things.¡±

    She nodded, thinking aloud as she picked up the plate to return it. ¡°The first is a job. The second¡­¡± She hesitated, her voice softening as the words came. ¡°¡­is a prayer.¡±

    With the plate in her hands, Rose stepped out of the house. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of ash that reminded her winter was approaching. She sighed. ¡°That¡¯s great¡ªwood¡¯s aslo is expensive,¡± she muttered under her breath.

    As she approached the old woman, she found her looking as miserable as ever, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in disdain. Rose held the plate out to her. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said politely.

    The old woman scoffed. ¡°Hmm, trash isn¡¯t something to say thank you for.¡± She snatched the plate and leaned forward, grabbing a large spoon to slop more food onto it.

    ¡°Hey!¡± the woman called after her just as Rose turned to leave. Rose spun around just in time to catch the plate being shoved back into her arms.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Rose asked, frowning down at the plate.

    ¡°Trash. Return the plate when you¡¯re done cleaning it,¡± the woman barked.

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Rose started, but the old woman waved her off dismissively.

    ¡°Get out of the way. You¡¯re blocking my customers,¡± she snapped, causing Rose to look around and finding everyone focusing on setting up their own stalls. Not a customer in sight.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Rose muttered.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Just remember to ditch the girl,¡± the old woman called over her shoulder.

    Ditch the girl. How could she ever do that? Easily, if she thought about it, but... Rose sighed, no way she could do anything close to abandoning a child. She wasn''t a saint, just a fool. Shooking her head, she started the walk home. At least she¡¯d managed to get some more food. She had her prayer; now, she just needed a job.

 Chapter 10 - New Job

    Fortunately, Rose managed to secure a new job before the end of the pillar. Though it came with a significant pay cut¡ªbarely enough to cover her rent even if she saved every coin¡ªshe¡¯d have to worry about that bridge when she came to it. For now she had work, money. She could continue living. It was her limited ability to read that had earned her a position at the Archekaas¨¨ del Marchenne, the city¡¯s public library. Without that skill, she doubted she would have found any work at all.

    As she walked down the rows of dusty shelves she cleared her throat, practicing once more, ¡°The Archekaas¨¨ del Marchenne was a public library established by Royal Decree. In the Or¨¨ne Age, R¨¦giane of Pels¨¦on, 23rd Majur, 8th S¨¦r¨¦nce, the Ordance of Savoiriel was issued, mandating that every city in the kingdom would house a library for public use. It had taken 47 years to complete the decree.¡±

    That was the first thing hammered into her head when she started and something she continued to practice over and over again, focusing on her dictations and tongue as it twisted into the words. The overseer of the library was very clear. Failure to even speak correctly then she would forfeit her pay for that day.

    As such she practiced time and time again as she moved through the dimly lit room. The library wasn¡¯t large by any means. It was dimly lit, with narrow aisles of shelves crammed with books and scrolls. The scent of parchment hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint mustiness of stone walls cool to the touch. High-set windows let in just enough light to allow one to see just enough to not run into the bookshelves.

    She recited the decree perfectly now, sure she wouldn¡¯t stumble should they ever gain a customer who asked. Something of a useless threat. Nobles rarely visited the library; they could afford to build their own private collections. Spending Orfin came as naturally as drinking water.

    Well, this was not the modern world. Books were a rare and expensive luxury. Each one was meticulously hand-penned, making every copy unique. The quality of handwriting often determined a book¡¯s value¡ªneat, precise script elevated even dubious content, while poorly written manuscripts often ended up in libraries like this one, regardless of their worth they sold for gold coins. Even the rantings of a mad man could go for tens of gold coins. So much

    Rose traced her fingers over the spines of books as she looked over them, pausing occasionally to read their titles. Her primary task was transcribing these original works into cleaner, more legible copies. While she wasn¡¯t yet fluent in the written word, she was a fast learner and had developed a knack for understanding even the most atrocious handwriting. Just not her own.

    The job often brought to mind the concept of a printing press¡ªor, more specifically, a printer. While she wasn¡¯t a mage or an engineer, she decided to start with the most basic ideas she could manage. She had read about printing presses in her past life¡ªone of those rare moments in school where a lesson stuck in her head, bouncing around with glee at random intervals.

    Annoying, really, when she couldn¡¯t think of anything to say on a dating app except for the fact that the first book printed using a printing press was the Gutenberg Bible in 1455. Nothing says sexy like the Gutenberg Bible¡ªwhatever that even was.

    Her hands flew to her head as the heat of embarrassment flushed through her. ¡°Christ, I actually sent that, didn¡¯t I?¡± she groaned aloud, crouching down as though trying to physically shrink away from the memory. Her past self was a cringe-inducing monster, and not even a new life in a new world could shield her from the mortifying moments that continued to haunt her.

    That intrusive memory, while mortifying, had its uses now. It had sparked an idea: the possibility of creating a rudimentary press. It wasn¡¯t a guarantee of success, but it felt like something worth pursuing. She spent time thinking it through, sketching rough designs on scrap paper and bundling them in her desk. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on her that her own handwriting was barely legible, rivaling the worst examples in the library¡¯s collection.

    Still, the prospect of revolutionizing her work filled her with cautious excitement, even as the logistics seemed daunting. The idea of streamlining the tedious process of hand-copying texts spurred her on, even if it was only a faint dream for now.

    She adjusted a crooked book on the shelf and glanced around the room. Another of her tasks was to ensure the shelves remained tidy and any misplaced items were delivered to the librarian so they could sort them themselves. Of course, this was easy¡ªthere was hardly anyone else to disrupt the order. The library was almost always empty.

    Shaking her head to refocus, she pulled a book from the shelf: The Keremi Rebellions: How History¡¯s Greatest Betrayal Saved the Kingdom. It was a popular request for reprint and sale, partly because the author¡ªa historian with a penchant for dramatization¡ªclaimed to know the ¡°real¡± story behind the events. Rose had nearly memorized the book by now, having rewritten it so many times.

    Walking back to the Scriptoriaire¡ªthe designated space for crafting or repairing books¡ªRose began preparing to transcribe another copy. She glanced at the notes she had scrawled earlier about building a press, smiling faintly at the thought. If only she could make it work; it might save her hours of labor. Then again, she mused, it might simply give her more work.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Despite its challenges, Rose found a quiet satisfaction in her job. The solitude of the library was a welcome change from the chaos of her previous life. Her duties offered a sense of purpose she hadn¡¯t really felt in years or was that because she was now looking after the heroine of the story? What ever the case it was nice to learn how to read and write again.

    Despite the disdain she received from her manager it was better than her last. He was a nobleman with an air of condescension. He often reminded her of how he¡¯d been forced to work alongside commoners, a complaint that made her wonder if he forgot she was one of those commoners. Either way she had a job with better comfrets and plenty of space away from an unwanted hand.

    Here, the cool, scholarly environment of the library seemed to shelter her from that. The silence and solemnity discouraged idle chatter, let alone anything inappropriate.

    The peace of the Scriptoriaire was interrupted by the sound of measured footsteps. Rose glanced up from her work just as her manager¡ªa middle-aged nobleman with salt-and-pepper hair, a sharp jawline, and the air of someone perpetually trying to appear above his station¡ªentered the room with a determined stride.

    ¡°Rose,¡± he began, his tone clipped and businesslike. ¡°You¡¯re a girl, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Rose froze, her quill halting mid-stroke on the parchment. The question was so absurd and unexpected that for a moment, she simply stared at him, unsure if she¡¯d misheard. ¡°¡­I suppose so?¡± she replied cautiously, narrowing her eyes.

    ¡°Good,¡± he said with a curt nod, as though confirming an important fact. ¡°Good.¡±

    He clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing, his brow furrowed in thought. Rose felt her heart thud uneasily against her ribs. What on earth could have prompted him to walk in here just to confirm her gender? No¡­ he hadn¡¯t even asked if she was a woman¡ªhe¡¯d asked if she was a girl.

    What¡­ what?

    ¡°The thing is¡­¡± he began again, gesturing vaguely with one hand, then faltering. He pressed his fist to his lips in thought, then snapped his fingers as if catching an elusive idea. ¡°My girl¡¯s got¡­ a thing.¡±

    Rose blinked, confused. ¡°A¡­ thing?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, waving his hand impatiently. ¡°You know, a little-person thing.¡±

    Rose blinked quite pointedly only for the silence in the room to remain. ¡°A child?¡± she guessed.

    ¡°No! Before that.¡± He waved his hand as if dismissing the notion.

    ¡°Before¡­ a child?¡± Rose repeated, her confusion growing.

    ¡°Yes! In her belly.¡± He finally stopped pacing, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked anywhere but at her.

    Realization dawned on Rose, and her mouth opened slightly. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ having a baby?¡±

    ¡°Gods above, don¡¯t say it like that,¡± he muttered, grimacing and dragging a hand down his face. ¡°The bloody bastard said he¡¯d protect her, and now look what he¡¯s done.¡±

    Rose sat back in her chair, blinking as if that was helping her process the information. ¡°I¡­ see?¡±

    ¡°Abandoned her for his ¡®duty,¡¯¡± he snapped, venom lacing his words. ¡°The Irkrans massing at the border¡ªlike they stand a chance against us in open conflict!¡± He clicked his tongue angrily, pacing the room again. ¡°And now my girl says she¡¯s fine, but she¡¯s not fine. She¡¯s pale, tired, and M¨¦lodie¡¯s butcher of a maid keeps throwing me out and won¡¯t tell me a damned thing!¡±

    Rose pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to make sense of his chaotic tirade. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m still not sure what you¡¯re asking me.¡±

    He turned sharply to face her, snapping his fingers as if the answer were obvious. ¡°M¨¦lodie never got sick when she was¡­ you know? At least, I don¡¯t think she did. Did she?¡±

    Rose blinked, struggling to keep up. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on!¡± He stepped closer, too close for Rose¡¯s comfort, and stared her dead in the eyes. ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So¡­ what?¡± Rose asked, leaning back slightly, her discomfort evident.

    ¡°For pity¡¯s sake, Rose, what¡¯s wrong with my girl?¡± he demanded, his voice rising in frustration.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Rose replied, throwing her hands up. ¡°I¡¯ve never been pregnant before!¡±

    ¡°Bollocks!¡± he snapped. ¡°You¡¯ve got a daughter!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Rose¡¯s confusion deepened.

    ¡°You said it in the interview!¡± he barked, jabbing a finger into her chest.

    ¡°Dahlia?¡± Rose asked, realization dawning. ¡°She¡¯s my sister¡¯s child.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± He blinked, thrown off-course. ¡°Your sister?¡±

    ¡°She passed recently,¡± Rose explained, her tone softening despite her rising irritation. ¡°I¡¯m looking after her daughter.¡±

    The manager¡¯s brow furrowed as he took a step back, crossing his arms. ¡°How old are you?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Rose hesitated, feeling oddly scrutinized. ¡°Twenty?¡± A little lie wouldn''t hurt, right?

    ¡°Twenty? No kids?¡± His expression turned incredulous.

    ¡°No,¡± Rose replied flatly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with genuine bewilderment.

    Rose blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Nothing?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, nothing?¡± he retorted, waving his hand dismissively as he turned toward the door. ¡°Never mind. Useless bloody commoners¡­¡± he muttered, disappearing down the hall.

    Rose stared after him, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. ¡°What the hell?¡± she muttered under her breath.

 Chapter 11 - Food

    A year had passed since Rose secured her new job, and on the surface, things seemed steady. Sure, her wages were meager, and the manager dismissed her every innovative idea¡ªa goldmine, considering they were freshly stolen from things that actually worked¡ªbut she moved on easily. She scraped together just enough to support herself and Dahlia. It wasn¡¯t enough to fund her own machine, but it allowed the pair to survive comfortably.

    Dahlia helped out quite a bit. Cleaning the house made the indoor air easier to breathe. She also took to running little errands for the neighbors, earning an ¨¦tain or two. But Rose was against her working like that. Child labor, though not existent in this world, had been one of the biggest reasons Rose was cast as the villain in the novel. That and constant abuse, but Rose was insistent that she do neither.

    However, Dahlia insisted, and Rose couldn¡¯t blame her. The girl was waiting for her parents to return. She would wait for a long, long time, and Rose hadn¡¯t the heart to tell her. She herself still hoped for a miracle. A priest could feel charitable, after all. Not all were so disconnected from the poor that they would step over them without a second glance.

    Yet, each time Rose left home, she bit down that miserable, lingering hope. It was the very first step in an all-too-familiar routine. Wake up, wipe the sweat from her skin, and swallow any thought that help was on its way. With that, she could start the day with a little more than determination¡ªfor desperation was its closest companion. She looked around at the street that, despite constantly changing, never really changed. In her hand, she held the large, familiar plate the old bat insisted she use to ¡°throw out the trash.¡±

    At first, it felt awkward accepting help from the woman. But she needed it, and in the end, she came to expect it, painfully aware that these daily meals were what kept her head above water.

    She smiled at the thought. Perhaps there was something she could do for her. Something other than sending Dahlia to an orphanage. She chuckled at the old woman¡¯s insistence on that idea, but Rose couldn¡¯t bring herself to do it. Was it the smart thing to do? Yes, absolutely. Sure, a lot of those kids disappeared as soon as they were adopted¡ªmost were literally sold off¡ªand those that remained? Well, war needed all the fuel it could get, and it was almost time for the king to be killed.

    But the fact remained: Dahlia wasn¡¯t just some child, not just a heroine with plot armor. Not to her anymore. She was more like a puppy. And who could say no to adopting a puppy? Well¡­ Rose could, but that wasn¡¯t the point. There was a bond between them now, fragile yet undeniable.

    It also helped that Rose knew Dahlia would get her happy ending, would save the world, marry the duke, become queen, and lead the kingdom to glory. She could send a few Orfins her way after that. Laughing at the absurdity, Rose quickly shook her head. No, the real reason was that Dahlia reflected her original self so well. She was like a mirror.

    Dead parents she believed had abandoned her for years? Check. An aunt who only took her in out of social obligation? Check. A happy ending? Well, this was a fantasy world. At least one of them deserved to have one.

    Rose sighed as she arrived at the all-too-familiar ¡°market.¡± ¡°Good morning, how are you feeling today?¡± she asked, smiling at the old woman. As always, the woman¡¯s stall was unchanged. She never broke it down or set it up¡ªit simply existed. Only the large pots ever changed, and even then, it was only their contents.

    Rose smiled again, bracing herself for a dry remark or an offhand insult. Yet the old woman only stared ahead, unflinching. Something about her silence sent a chill up Rose¡¯s spine.

    Rose hesitated, her brow furrowing. ¡°How was your day?¡± Rose asked gently, her voice breaking the rising silence like a ripple across still water.

    No response.

    The woman didn¡¯t stir, didnt blink didnt move. Rose reached out with a trembling hand. ¡°Are you deaf now, old¡ª?¡±

    The words caught in her throat as her fingers met the cold, unyielding flesh. Rose fell silent, still. The woman was no longer able to scold her, or insist she send the girl away.

    The woman was gone.

    For a moment, Rose could only blink, stunned into stillness. Sure, the old bat was¡­ well, old, but she wasn¡¯t dying. Not yet. She looked around the street, her gaze darting between the passersby. People were setting up for the day, milling about without so much as a glance in her direction. No one here on the street would¡ªshe shook her head sharply. No, no one in the city would care about this old ba¡ªwoman.

    But she had been so full of life just the other day. A miserable, conceited woman, sure, but¡­ Rose''s chest suddenly ached, and she realized she had stopped breathing. She inhaled sharply, filling her lungs with air. It was over. Done. There was nothing she could do. Yet she didn¡¯t want to accept that.

    Her eyes glazed over the familiar street until she spotted Chet. An old army man, his left arm lost to a long-forgotten battle, leaving him to scrape out a living on this street. Even so, he still had his strength. Sure, it was diminished, but an old woman like her wouldn¡¯t weigh much.

    Rose started toward him, her feet moving too quickly for her spinning mind to keep up. She stumbled, nearly falling, but caught herself awkwardly. Forcing herself to slow down, she walked again, step by step, her body feeling mechanical. Numb.

    ¡°What?¡± Chet tutted, his tone rough with annoyance as she stopped in front of him.

    Rose blinked at his irritated expression. When had she gotten here? She shook her head. It didn¡¯t matter. ¡°She¡­¡± Rose¡¯s voice faltered, her eyes darting toward the woman¡¯s stall.

    ¡°A bitch, I know,¡± Chet said with a dry laugh, raising his voice as if the woman might hear him. But she wouldn¡¯t. She couldn¡¯t. Not anymore.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°No,¡± Rose whispered, her voice cracking. ¡°Dead.¡±

    The word hung in the air, foreign yet heavy, and the only thing she could focus on was the empty plate in her hand. It would never be full again. Dahlia would stare at her with those wide, questioning eyes, and they both would realize it. She wasn¡¯t living¡ªshe was surviving. Surviving on the kindness of one miserable old woman who was now gone. What would happen to them now?

    Rose hated the thoughts swirling in her mind but couldn¡¯t stop them.

    ¡°The bitch kicked it? Finally,¡± Chet muttered, his voice lined with grim amusement as he gave a nod and a chuckle. His laughter faded as he noticed the pale, blank look on Rose¡¯s face. ¡°Why¡¯s it matter to ya?¡±

    Food. Shelter. Clothes. The basic needs of life. She managed to scrape together enough for shelter, bleeding her fingers raw trying to keep what little clothes they had in one piece. But food? Food had just died.

    Food. Just. Died.

    Chet¡¯s smile faded at her silence. ¡°Oi¡­¡± he called, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts.

    ¡°What?¡± Rose asked, her voice barely audible.

    Chet scratched the side of his large nose, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Should we move the body?¡± he asked gruffly.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Rose mumbled, her voice wavering. She swallowed hard and nodded. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s why I came. To ask if you could¡­ help.¡±

    He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. ¡°Alright,¡± he said.

    They walked toward the dead woman, Chet grabbing hold of the chair she had died in with ease. ¡°Bang open the door, will ya?¡± he called over his shoulder.

    ¡°The door?¡± Rose blinked, confused for a moment before nodding. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± She moved quickly, the scraping sound of wood against stone filling the air behind her as she hurried ahead. She reached the door just in time, pulling it open before Chet arrived. Despite his missing arm, he moved with an efficiency that left her rushing to step out of his way as he maneuvered the chair inside.

    The rush of fresh air into the house did little to mask the stale, suffocating scent clinging to the space. Rose wrinkled her nose as she stepped further in, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She looked around while Chet dragged the chair to the center of the room, the dull thud of its legs echoing in the silence.

    Dust clung to every surface, thickly settled in the cracks and corners, untouched for days¡ªmaybe weeks. Her gaze drifted to the gritty stone floor, where specks of dirt sparkled faintly in the weak morning light seeping through the grimy windows. The scene felt horribly familiar, a reminder of places she¡¯d rather forget.

    ¡°Oi, look ¡®ere,¡± Chet¡¯s gruff voice cut through the still air, snapping Rose out of her thoughts. Her breath caught as she looked up, finding him further inside the house. He was rummaging through a cracked wooden dresser, his one hand pulling open drawers with practiced ease.

    She froze as he tugged out a small string pouch, his grin widening as he bounced it lightly in his palm.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Rose¡¯s voice rose sharply, startling even herself.

    Chet shrugged, unbothered. ¡°What¡¯s it look like? She¡¯s dead. Don¡¯t need it now, do she?¡±

    He walked over to the rickety table, his boots scuffing against the floor as he moved. With a casual motion, he dumped the pouch¡¯s contents onto the table. Coins clattered loudly, the sounds filling the small space. Bron and ¨¦tain pieces spilled out, their dull gleam catching the light, followed by a few shimmering Argine coins.

    Chet let out a low chuckle as he pocketed more than a few of the coins. Rose¡¯s stomach turned as she watched his casual greed. The remainder he shoved back into the pouch with a quick sweep of his hand before tossing it to her without a second thought.

    ¡°There,¡± he said with a smirk. ¡°Take it. Better you have it than let it rot here.¡±

    ¡°She just died!¡± Rose hissed, clutching the purse tightly. ¡°And you¡¯re stealing from her?¡±

    The old soldier snorted, unbothered by her outrage. ¡°Ain¡¯t like she¡¯s got family. Nobody cares enough to come ¡®round. Honestly, you¡¯re the only one who ever talked to her. So,¡± he added with a smirk, ¡°I¡¯ll give you a bit o¡¯ time ¡®ere before I tells them all she¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Rose said, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

    He waved her off dismissively. ¡°Do what you want. Leave it for the scavengers, for all I care.¡± He turned toward the door, adding over his shoulder, ¡°But they¡¯ll strip the place clean soon enough.¡±

    The door banged shut behind him, rattling in its frame before sliding open a crack, as if mocking her.

    Rose¡¯s gaze dropped to the coin purse in her hands. The leather was worn and soft, and she gripped it tightly, her knuckles white. For a moment, she considered tossing it onto the table, disgusted by the thought of keeping it. But her fingers wouldn¡¯t let go.

    She shuddered, a tremor running through her as she sucked in a deep, shaky breath. Slowly, she moved her hand, as if to return the pouch, but then her arm jerked forward in frustration. Her grip tightened, squeezing the pouch too hard, and a single Argine coin tumbled free.

    The sharp, metallic clink of the silver coin against the wooden floor rang out in the still room. Rose watched as it rolled, wobbling unevenly before it stopped on its side. The engraved wolf on its face seemed to glare at her, its predatory eyes shining greedily in the dim light.

    Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. Could she really take someone else¡¯s things? The man was right¡ªthis wasn¡¯t hers to take. But if not her, then someone else¡­ someone who didn¡¯t have a child to raise on a handful of ¨¦tain a day.

    Her mind spun, calculating in despair. That one shiny silver coin on the floor¡ªan Argine¡ªwas worth over 64 days of work for her. Forty-four days of scraping by, of bleeding fingers and aching muscles. And here it lay.

    She needed time. Time to get a raise. Then she could buy everything with her own money. She wouldn''t need someone else to help her. She just needed a little more money, a little more time.

    Until then, she could use the extra cash to keep the food coming, even get Dahlia some new clothes, god knew she needed it. More than that, she could finally afford to send Dahlia to the March¨¦cole, a merchant school meant for wealthier commoners.

    Rose clutched the pouch tighter, her fingers trembling. With this money, Dahlia could learn to read, write, and count. Sure, Rose could teach her herself. But, She still had the benefit of a modern day graduation with a 2.8 GPA, after all¡ªit wasn¡¯t great, sure, but she remembered enough for this world. But the real value of the March¨¦cole wasn¡¯t just in the education. It was the connections Dahlia would gain there, connections that could grow into opportunities far beyond what Rose could ever give her on her own.

    The whisperings of her need twisted in her mind, drowning out any faint echoes of morality.

    With a shaky breath, Rose slipped the coin purse into her pocket. It felt horribly light as she stood there for a moment, her gaze lingering on the dimly lit room.

    Her eyes scanned the space, searching for anything else they might need. Her gaze landed on the tarnished silverware lying on a dusty shelf, the edges gleaming faintly in the morning light. She swallowed hard, her throat dry, and took a tentative step further inside.

 Chapter 12 - Rabbet Roast.

    With money now in hand, Rose could finally stock the pantry, so to speak. For the time being, she wouldn¡¯t need to rely on the old woman¡¯s meals every day. Of course, the irony wasn¡¯t lost on her: the old woman would still be providing their nourishment, just in a different way.

    Rose allowed herself a moment of hope. She could buy food, new clothes, and even send Dahlia to school. A year of tuition at the March¨¦cole would cost about three Argines, and even after that expense, two of those precious silver coins would remain in her newfound purse. More than enough to indulge in a few luxuries¡ªa real mattress, for instance. Not the straw stuffed in an itchy sheet she had endured for years, but something soft and warm. She could even afford a second bed, giving them both some space at night. Although, perhaps it would be better to wait until the weather grew warmer. Winter was around the corner again, but they could keep the fires burning through the night this year.

    With these plans in mind, Rose told her boss she needed a couple of days off to handle things at home. He was reluctant at first, but after some prodding, he relented. He even made a snide remark, reminding her that she¡¯d been hired only because she was cheap¡ªa fact that made her realize that she was likely only hired to line his pockets. She was the only staff after all. Disappointing, but not upsetting, she did need the job. He did deny her a raise though. That was upsetting. Still she figured she could find another now that she wasn''t panicking about money because of the old woman¡¯s death..

    The incident stirred a change in Rose. It wasn¡¯t just the money; it was the realization of how stagnant her life had become. She had allowed herself to drift, caught in a rhythm of mere survival, a routine of hollow contentment that led nowhere. But now, she couldn¡¯t be content anymore. She had to find something better, for herself and for Dahlia.

    The next day, Rose woke early, waiting for Dahlia to rise. She sat by the small window, watching the faint light of dawn spill into the room, her thoughts drifting to the day ahead. When the little girl finally stirred and rubbed her eyes, Rose greeted her with a warm smile.

    ¡°What¡¯s for breakfast?¡± Dahlia asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

    Rose crouched beside her bed and brushed a stray hair from her face. ¡°We¡¯re going out tonight,¡± she said, her voice light with excitement. ¡°We need to do a bit of shopping.¡±

    ¡°Shopping?¡± Dahlia¡¯s eyes widened, the word unfamiliar yet exciting.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Rose said, her smile softening. ¡°We need to get a few things¡ªincluding new clothes for you. Because¡­¡± she paused for effect, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, ¡°you¡¯re going to school soon!¡±

    Dahlia blinked, then tilted her head in confusion. ¡°School?¡±

    Rose nodded, her smile growing. ¡°That¡¯s right. You must get so bored sitting at home all day while I¡¯m at work. I finally have enough money to send you to school. You¡¯ll have something fun to do every day! And you¡¯ll get to play with a bunch of kids your age.¡±

    ¡°Other kids?¡± Dahlia¡¯s tone brightened, her curiosity flickering into excitement.

    ¡°Yes, sweetie. A growing girl needs friends,¡± Rose said, gently taking her small hands. ¡°And at school, you¡¯ll learn so many things. More than what they taught in the village. You¡¯ll learn math, how to count, and how to read properly. And when you finish, you¡¯ll get a certificate. That means you¡¯ll never have to worry about money when you¡¯re older.¡±

    Dahlia tilted her head again, her smile fading. ¡°Do we have to worry about money now?¡±

    Rose froze, the question hitting her harder than she expected. Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she couldn¡¯t find the words. Dahlia¡¯s wide, searching eyes seemed to see too much. Rose forced a laugh, ruffling the girl¡¯s hair. ¡°No, sweetie, not at all,¡± she said, standing abruptly. ¡°Now go get ready. We¡¯re going to eat something really yummy!¡±

    Dahlia¡¯s concern melted into a cheerful squeal as she hurried off to prepare, her laughter ringing through the small house.

    Rose¡¯s smile lingered for a moment, then slipped away. She glanced at the coin purse hidden in her pocket, her fingers curling protectively around it. For the first time in years, she felt the stirrings of hope, but they were laced with a familiar unease.

    As they stepped outside, Rose felt a lightness she hadn¡¯t known in years. The two of them walked toward the main market, their spirits high. But as they passed the corner where the old woman¡¯s house stood, Rose cast a glance in that direction. Her heart sank.

    The vultures were there alright¡ªneighbors and strangers alike¡ªpicking the house clean, taking whatever they wanted without care or respect. Laughing all the way. Rose turned away quickly, guilt twisting in her chest. She clutched the purse tighter in her pocket.

    ¡°Aunty Rosie?¡± Dahlia¡¯s small voice broke through her thoughts.

    Rose glanced down and saw Dahlia¡¯s curious eyes darting toward the house. Rose forced a smile and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ¡°Come on, darling. Let¡¯s not be late for the market,¡± she said, her voice light but strained.

    Without another word, they quickened their pace, leaving the laughter and chaos behind.

    The main market of Marchenne was a massive pillar of industry and economy. There was nothing else like it¡ªa bustling hub of trade and wealth. It lay far in the west of the city, where the nobles enjoyed an area defined by prestige and opulence. It was a place well beyond any budget Rose could ever hope to manage. Instead, they went to the closer, more affordable market in the workers¡¯ district.

    This market was less expensive, and while the items for sale weren¡¯t glamorous, they were practical¡ªthe perfect place for the city¡¯s residents to shop. The perfect place for a poor commoner like Rose, closer to home and kinder to thin purses

    The workers¡¯ market was a vibrant splash of life amid the drab surroundings of the district. Tents of every color flapped in the breeze, their bold hues painted with symbols and names designed to catch the eye. Stalls spilled into the narrow streets, packed tightly around an arid fountain that depicted the city¡¯s eighth mayor¡ªa forgotten figure no one seemed to recognize. Vendors shouted their wares, their voices blending into a cacophony of haggling and laughter.

    Dahlia¡¯s eyes widened as she took in the scene. Her little face lit up with wonder, her mouth hanging open as she turned in every direction, trying to take it all in. Rose smiled faintly at the sight, squeezing Dahlia¡¯s hand to keep her close.

    For Rose, the market wasn¡¯t new, but being here with enough money to truly shop was a foreign experience. She¡¯d only ever come here before for the bare necessities¡ªor to press her nose against the window of a shop displaying the magical washing machine she couldn¡¯t afford. Her heart fluttered at the thought. For the first time, she had enough money to buy one. Excitement sparked in her chest, but she quickly shook the idea away, squeezing Dahlia¡¯s hand a little tighter.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    No. She had more important things to do now. Disappointing as it was, she¡¯d made her choice long ago.

    ¡°The first thing we should get you,¡± Rose said, glancing down at Dahlia¡¯s threadbare clothes, ¡°is a few changes of clothes¡ªsomething practical that brings out your cuteness!¡± She reached down to pinch Dahlia¡¯s cheeks playfully.

    ¡°Hey! Ow!¡± Dahlia giggled, swiping at Rose¡¯s hand with mock indignation.

    Rose chuckled. ¡°To get clothes, though, we¡¯ll need to find a shop.¡± She looked around the market, scanning the maze of stalls, but quickly realized she wasn¡¯t sure who might sell children¡¯s clothing.

    As she searched, a savory aroma caught her attention, drawing her gaze toward a corner of the market. Following the scent, she spotted a quaint little eatery tucked between two larger stalls. Calling it a restaurant felt generous¡ªit was more of an open-window kitchen with a few mismatched tables set up under a faded awning. Still, it was practical and efficient, catering perfectly to the market¡¯s busy crowd.

    ¡°Let¡¯s grab something to eat first,¡± Rose said, gently tugging Dahlia toward the counter. She knelt beside the girl and smiled. ¡°What looks good to you?¡±

    Dahlia stared at the menu hanging above the counter, her brow furrowing in concentration. She glanced at Rose, then back at the board, her lips moving silently as though trying to puzzle out the words.

    Rose¡¯s heart sank. Reading was still a luxury here, one that Dahlia hadn¡¯t yet had the chance to fully grasp. Smiling reassuringly, she placed a hand on the girl¡¯s shoulder. ¡°How about I pick for us?¡± she said gently, giving the menu a quick scan.

    The server behind the counter wiped their hands on an apron and leaned closer. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡±

    ¡°Two plates of braised rabbit with spiced grains,¡± Rose said, her tone polite but firm.

    ¡°Good choice,¡± the server replied with a nod, turning back to the kitchen.

    Rose stood and ruffled Dahlia¡¯s hair. ¡°You¡¯re going to love this,¡± she said with a smile, her tone light and encouraging.

    Dahlia beamed, her earlier uncertainty melting into hungry anticipation.

    As she handed over the coins, Rose leaned in and asked the server, ¡°Do you know where I could find proper clothes for a child?¡± She gestured toward Dahlia, who was perched on her toes, craning her neck to watch the bustling market with wide-eyed curiosity.

    The server glanced between them and shrugged. ¡°Ben¡¯s got a place a couple windows over, by the Myriad Caf¨¦. Look for the sign with a needle and thread. He doesn¡¯t really sell ready-made clothes for kids, but he¡¯s got plenty of cloth to spare. You might not get what you need right away, but it¡¯ll be cheap enough.¡±

    The server ran a hand over the table bringing the coins though the window. ¡°If you¡¯re looking for something more immediate, Madam Henish might have a few things, but she¡¯s expensive. Think she sells to nobles or something.¡±

    ¡°I see. Thank you,¡± Rose said with a polite nod.

    ¡°No problem. Grab a table, and we¡¯ll bring your food out shortly.¡±

    Rose guided Dahlia to an empty table, where the little girl climbed onto the bench with a delighted grin. Her excitement bubbled over as she chattered about everything she¡¯d seen¡ªthe brightly colored tents, the noisy vendors, and the fountain with the broken statue.

    Rose listened with a faint smile, though her mind was elsewhere. Ben¡¯s shop sounded practical, but they¡¯d have to wait for custom orders. Madam Henish, on the other hand, could provide faster results, though at a price that made Rose¡¯s stomach twist. Drumming her fingers on the worn wooden table, she weighed their options carefully.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go to Ben¡¯s place after our food,¡± Rose said, more to herself than to Dahlia. ¡°If he can¡¯t help us, we can try Madam Henish¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°Okay!¡± Dahlia cheered

    Rose chuckled softly. ¡°We¡¯ll see, darling.¡±

    Just then, their food arrived.

    ¡°That was quick,¡± Rose commented as the server placed the plates on the table.

    ¡°Yeah, chef¡¯s been cooking ahead of time, trying to keep up with all that fast food nonsense going on in Les Enclos,¡± the server scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°People don¡¯t want to sit down anymore. It¡¯s a disgrace.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Rose called after him, her tone polite but distracted. She turned to Dahlia with a smile. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s eat!¡±

    ¡°Yay!¡± Dahlia echoed, her enthusiasm lighting up the table.

    The meal was nothing short of delightful¡ªbraised rabbit, tender and flavorful, its juices mingling with the delicate spices of the grains beneath it. The rabbit had been cooked to perfection, its meat falling apart at the touch of a fork. The grains were soft but not mushy, seasoned with cinnamon, clove, and a hint of pepper that left a subtle warmth lingering on the tongue. Scattered among the grains were vibrant vegetables¡ªcarrots and parsnips, roasted until their natural sweetness shone through.

    Dahlia¡¯s eyes widened as she took her first bite, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk¡¯s as she hurriedly chewed and scooped up another forkful. ¡°This is so good!¡± she exclaimed, her voice muffled by a full mouth.

    Rose laughed softly, savoring her own portion at a slower pace. The spices danced on her tongue, a welcome change from the bland stews and simple bread that had defined her meals for so long. For once, they were eating like queens. Well, maybe not; what queen eats rabbit?

    As they ate, the market bustled around them, the hum of life and trade filling the air. Rose allowed herself a rare moment of contentment, letting the warmth of the food and Dahlia¡¯s bright laughter soothe her lingering worries. For a brief moment, all was right in the world.

    All because an old woman died.

    There it was. The thought that shattered her fragile peace. Rose¡¯s lips stiffened.

    ¡°Something wrong?¡± Dahlia asked, her voice soft but sharp with concern. She picked up on Rose¡¯s emotions far too quickly.

    Rose forced a smile, shaking her head. ¡°Nothing, darling. Nothing. Just¡­ remembered a joke.¡±

    ¡°A joke?¡± Dahlia tilted her head curiously, her fork pausing over her plate.

    Rose let out a short, unamused laugh. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that funny,¡± she said quickly, waving it off. ¡°Anyway, finish your food, and we¡¯ll head to the store. I think we can find some cute outfits for you,¡± she added, her tone brightening with forced cheerfulness.

    Her words worked. Dahlia¡¯s face lit up, and she clapped her hands together. ¡°Okay!¡± she chirped, quickly polishing off the remainder of her meal.

    Rose watched her with a mix of pride and amusement until Dahlia suddenly pointed at her plate. ¡°Aunty Rosie, aren¡¯t you going to finish yours?¡± she asked, her wide eyes darting to the unfinished meal in front of her.

    Rose blinked, glancing down at her plate. She¡¯d eaten a few bites, but she hadn¡¯t had a proper meal in years. Even with the old woman¡¯s help, she¡¯d always prioritized Dahlia, giving her the entire plate. She had to, after all the young girl arrived skilly and malnourished. She filled out in the past few months, her cheeks no longer hollow, her arms no longer spindly. She could finish a full meal without hesitation now.

    It was inspiring, in a way.

    A rare, genuine smile crept onto Rose¡¯s lips. ¡°No, I¡¯m not that hungry,¡± she said softly. ¡°I¡¯ve never been a big eater,¡± she lied smoothly.

    Dahlia hesitated, glancing between Rose and the plate. ¡°Can¡­ can I have it?¡± she finally asked, her voice hesitant, as if afraid she was asking for too much.

    This caused Rose¡¯s heart to sink a little. She thought they had gotten close, but perhaps that was hoping for too much. ¡°Of course,¡± Rose said warmly, sliding the plate toward her. ¡°You¡¯re a growing kid, after all.¡±

    Dahlia beamed, pulling the plate closer. ¡°Thank you, Aunty Rosie!¡± she chirped before digging in with enthusiasm.

    Rose watched her eat, her heart heavy yet light at the same time. She wasn¡¯t sure if she was doing the right thing¡ªif she was making the right choices¡ªbut seeing Dahlia happy and healthy made it easier to believe she was.

 Chapter 13 - Fabric

    The city was meant to be built with a grand plan in mind. This plan, however, quickly became irrelevant as chaos reigned over the process of its construction. It began with a road¡ªwide enough to accommodate the entire northern trade. Next came quarters for the servants who would attend the nobles overseeing the project, followed by lodgings for the laborers who would actually build the city itself. Even the keepers of noble pets had a designated space in this grand design. Hailed as revolutionary, this plan was meant to transform a humble settlement into a thriving city.

    The vision was abandoned almost as soon as the first spades struck the earth. The group of hired masons and laborers tasked with carving out the road and laying the city¡¯s foundations couldn¡¯t read¡ªThe unfortunate dealings of a kingdom with only a 4% literacy rate, and a result of an absolute disconnect between the upper and lower classes. No one bothered to ensure the laborers could read, nor did anyone of southern nobility wanted to go to the cold north without their luxury homes already built, even then they should be renovated no less than twice before they were willing to risk working up there.

    With nothing but drawings to guide them and no proper oversight, they went off the drawings only, guessing at the pretty squiggly lines. Fun fact, Marchenne was built 33 miles west of where it was meant to stand. In the laborers'' defense, the tree they broke ground in front of did look like a monkey. It was just a shame that the tree drawn in the notes was to showcase what a Lolicock Tree looked like, in case they never saw one before.

    Long story short, the city was ultimately built in a very ordinary way¡ªwithout planning, forethought, or much beyond the immediate need.

    A tale as old as time.

    The amount of money tossed into the project was no small number, Marchenne was meant to be the pinnacle of new age technology. No one bothered to wonder if the poor could afford a magical light in every building but they did it anyway. This led to Terr¨¦nieur , landlords---people who could afford the luxury no one asked for, and could make money from the poor who¡¯s only option was to pay someone else for the luxury of living in their own homes. A concept originally foreign to this world brought to you by poor government planning.

    Now, over a century since its chaotic construction, Marchenne stands as a unique testament to both magic and poor planning¡ªa combination that has somehow earned it praise as a "marvelous success."

    This haphazard design was why following a string of windows took Rose and Dahlia farther than expected. Their walk became a pleasant journey, giving them time to digest their meal as they strolled through the market. Windows were a rare and expensive luxury that were abundant in this city, leading to a design that had the buildings divided in a way that gave one storefront a large window while incorporating two additional, smaller stores at the behind it.

    Each structure followed the same practical pattern: door, window, glass door, door. This sequence repeated along the curved path of the market, creating a continuous circle of buildings. At its edges stood large iron gates, rusted and unused over the years, which could control the unruly peasants should they get uppity.

    The first door led inside, past the windowed storefront, providing access to a small shop tucked just behind the main store. The second door, made of glass, opened directly into the windowed store itself, while the third door led to a more modestly sized shop that shared the same building.

    This unique layout allowed the originally planned design, created to cater to nobles, to house three stores instead of one. It accommodated two inexpensive shops alongside a moderately priced store that could display its wares leisurely, drawing in customers. The others had to make do with signs.

    The place the server had said was Ben¡¯s place, for example¡ªa large wooden sign featuring a needle under thread. Its design suggested a lack of trust in the carver¡¯s ability to showcase the needle before the thread. Like most signs, it was cheap and told a simple story. But Rose¡¯s attention wasn¡¯t drawn to the signs. Instead, her eyes landed on one of the windows where shoes were clearly on display.

    Rose paused, staring for a moment. Dahlia, unaware of her aunt¡¯s sudden stop, tugged on her hand. ¡°Auntie Rose?¡± she asked, her eyes following the older woman¡¯s gaze as they landed on the shoes. ¡°Wow, what are those?¡±

    The question was an answer in itself. Rose glanced down at her own feet, wrapped in old, worn cloth¡ªa common sight in the area for both commoners and villagers alike. Even the less notable nobles wore foot wraps in this world, though theirs were far finer, often lined with leather soles, sandals if anything else.

    ¡°Aunt Rose?¡± Dahlia questioned, tugging gently on her hand.

    Rose shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts. She wasn¡¯t sure what had stilled her so completely, but she gave Dahlia¡¯s hand a reassuring squeeze. ¡°Those are shoes,¡± she explained, pointing to the display. ¡°They¡¯re like your foot wraps, but sturdier. You put them on your feet and tie them together. They¡¯re more protective, and they feel a lot better. Would you like to try some¡ªafter we get you some clothes?¡±

    ¡°Shoes?¡± Dahlia repeated, tilting her head curiously. ¡°Do we need them?¡±

    The question caught Rose off guard, and she hesitated. ¡°Well, no¡­ we don¡¯t need them,¡± she admitted slowly. ¡°But they¡¯d be nice to have.¡±

    Dahlia gave a small shrug. ¡°Then maybe we don¡¯t need them. Wouldn¡¯t it be better to save money?¡±

    Rose¡¯s heart clenched at the child¡¯s words, she moved to deny them but her throat tightened as well. An awkward silence hung between them, broken by the spiraling city moving before them. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she finally murmured, her voice slightly shaky. She squeezed Dahlia¡¯s hand, trying to steady herself. ¡°What a smart child you are,¡± she added, ruffling her hair with a faint smile. ¡°Come now, let¡¯s get you some clothes.¡±

    With that, she led Dahlia inside the shop with the needle-and-thread sign. A musty smell of fabric filled the air as they entered the dim passageway, lit only by the soft glow of magical spheres mounted on the ceiling, like a fantasy styled fluorescent light. The interior was a chaotic mess. Linen was draped haphazardly over tables, bolts of fabric lay in heaps, and garments were scattered everywhere¡ªsome crumpled, some neatly pressed, but none in any sort of order.

    Just as Rose wondered if the clothes piled around them had ever been washed, a voice suddenly echoed through the room.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Ladies!¡±

    The chaotic mound of fabric shifted, and a small, wiry man emerged. His dark gray hair stuck out at wild angles, and the deep circles under his eyes made them appear almost black. His wide smile stretched unnervingly, revealing slightly crooked teeth, and his piercing green eyes, narrowed to tiny irises, gave him a disturbingly predatory look. The effect was only heightened as he spread his arms wide in a dramatic gesture to greet them.

    ¡°Welcome to the shop! How can I assist you?¡± he asked, his voice high with an almost manic cheerfulness. Rose instinctively took a cautious step back, her grip on Dahlia¡¯s hand tightening. She eyed the man warily.

    Dahlia, however, seemed unfazed. She stepped forward proudly, planting her feet and puffing out her chest. ¡°Clothes!¡± she declared with enthusiasm, her voice clear and confident.

    ¡°Clothes?¡± the man repeated, his gaze darting between Dahlia and Rose. His lips twitched into something resembling a grin. ¡°For the delicate madame? Or perhaps the little¡­¡± he paused, his eyes flicking to Dahlia for barely a moment, ¡°cherub?¡±

    ¡°Just for her,¡± Rose interjected quickly, her frown deepening as she stepped slightly in front of Dahlia. ¡°She¡¯s starting school soon, and we need to make her presentable. Though I was told you don¡¯t do children¡¯s clothes.¡± She turned on her heel, ready to leave. ¡°So, we¡¯ll be on our way¡ª¡±

    Before she could finish, the man was suddenly in front of her again, stepping smoothly out of a pile of clothes as though he¡¯d materialized from the fabric itself. Rose¡¯s breath caught as his sharp green eyes locked onto hers, narrowing with a strange intensity.

    ¡°Nonsense!¡± he cried, his voice ringing out as he spread his arms wide. ¡°I¡¯ve been known to dabble with¡­ well¡­¡± He hesitated, his lips twitching uncomfortably as he avoided finishing the thought. ¡°So, just for the young one?¡± His gaze flicked to Dahlia, then quickly back to Rose, his sharp eyes making her take another cautious step back.

    ¡°But Auntie Rose needs new clothes too!¡± Dahlia piped up, her small voice cutting through the tension. She looked up at Rose with large, pleading eyes, her expression as earnest as ever. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Auntie?¡±

    Rose opened her mouth to protest but hesitated, her eyes dropping to her own attire. Her dress, patched together with heavy stitches, clung tightly to her frame, held more by hope than fabric. She sighed, relenting. ¡°I suppose I could¡ª¡±

    ¡°Excellent!¡± the man interrupted, clapping his hands together with glee. His enthusiasm was almost infectious¡ªalmost.

    Before Rose could respond, he dove behind a nearby pile of laundry with surprising speed. She blinked, caught between the urge to laugh and the instinct to flee. Moments later, he reappeared, his wiry frame emerging triumphantly from the fabric with an armful of garments.

    ¡°I don¡¯t normally handle children¡¯s clothes,¡± he admitted, handing Dahlia a bundle of dresses. ¡°But a large client of mine just left town¡ªdecided to look for ¡®better opportunities.¡¯¡± He rolled his eyes dramatically, scoffing. ¡°As if there¡¯s any better place for trade than Marchenne! Ridiculous.¡± His laugh teetered between genuine amusement and something more biting, the tension in its undertone raising the hairs on the back of Rose¡¯s neck.

    Without missing a beat, he thrust a few dresses into Rose¡¯s hands and clapped her on the back with surprising familiarity. ¡°The bastard probably fell out of favor with the Rezulto mark my words. But enough of that! Come, come! Try these on!¡± His energy never waned as he shepherded her toward the changing rooms.

    With a flick of his wrist, he opened a curtain and practically tossed her inside with alarming agility. The fabric hissed as it slid shut, leaving Rose momentarily stunned, clutching the bundle of dresses as though bracing for what might come next.

    Rose hesitated as she stood inside her small changing area, clutching the bundle of dresses the man had thrust into her arms. The curtain hung closed behind her, swaying slightly in the dim, musty air.

    Setting the dresses aside, she quietly pushed the curtain open and stepped out. ¡°Something wrong?¡± he asked, his tone still cheerful but with a faint edge of curiosity.

    Rose quickly shook her head. ¡°She might need help,¡± she said, biting her lip before stepping into Dahlia¡¯s booth.

    ¡°Of course, of course!¡± the man replied, waving a hand dismissively as he wandered off. ¡°I¡¯ll find my needles and thread¡ªnow, where did I put them?¡± His voice, disappearing back into the folds of fabric.

    Rose pulled the curtain shut behind her and turned to see Dahlia holding up a dress with wide eyes. ¡°Look at all this!¡± the girl exclaimed, her voice full of wonder. ¡°They feel so nice! And they¡¯re so pretty!¡±

    A faint smile tugged at Rose¡¯s lips. ¡°Yes, they are,¡± she agreed, but then sighed softly, her tone shifting to something more serious. ¡°But,¡± she added, crouching slightly to meet Dahlia¡¯s eyes, ¡°you can¡¯t let anyone tell you what to do just because something seems nice.¡±

    Dahlia tilted her head, her brows knitting together in confusion. ¡°What do you mean, Auntie?¡±

    Rose hesitated, pinching the bridge of her nose as she searched for the right words. ¡°This isn¡¯t like the village,¡± she began carefully. ¡°People here aren¡¯t always¡­ kind. Not everyone will look out for you the way we do at home. Sometimes,¡± she continued, her voice soft but firm, ¡°people might act nice just to get you to trust them. But that doesn¡¯t mean they are nice.¡±

    Dahlia tilted her head before nodding. ¡°Look at this one, Auntie!¡± Dahlia exclaimed suddenly, turning and pulling up a soft badge dress. Her face lit up, and she held out the dress like a prize. ¡°Isn¡¯t it so pretty?¡±

    Rose exhaled softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She stepped fully into view, offering Dahlia a faint smile. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s very pretty,¡± she said. ¡°Do you need help?¡±

    Dahlia shook her head, already pulling the dress over her head with the carefree ease of a child. ¡°I¡¯m fine! You should try yours too, Auntie Rosie!¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Rose said with a small smile, nodding toward Dahlia. Together, the pair began trying on the clothes they¡¯d been given. The fabrics felt softer and sturdier than Rose had expected¡ªa welcome change from the rough, threadbare garments she was used to.

    As they adjusted the first outfits, the man returned. ¡°Let¡¯s see, let¡¯s see!¡± he exclaimed.

    Rose stepped cautiously out of her booth, smoothing the front of her dress and casting him a wary glance. ¡°It fits fine,¡± she said curtly. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    ¡°Of course you will!¡± he replied, his grin widening as if she¡¯d given him the highest compliment. ¡°But not before I finish the adjustments! Everything must fit perfectly, or it¡¯s not worth wearing!¡±

    Without waiting for permission, he whipped a length of measuring tape from his pocket and approached her with alarming speed. He circled her like a hawk, his eyes darting over the fit of the dress as he muttered to himself.

    Rose stiffened slightly as he tugged at the fabric around her waist and shoulders, mumbling about seams and hems. ¡°A few tweaks here, a pinch there¡­ yes, yes. Ugh, really, darling, you must eat more food,¡± he tutted, shaking his head with exaggerated disapproval.

    Her jaw tightened, and she opened her mouth to argue, but he steamrolled ahead. ¡°Got it! Back inside¡ªstrip, strip! By the time you¡¯re done with the first dress, I¡¯ll have this one ready. Go, go!¡± He waved his hands dramatically, practically ushering her back into the changing booth.

    Rose stumbled slightly as she turned back inside, muttering under her breath. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± she hissed. Before she could gather her thoughts, she heard his voice again.

    ¡°Now, you!¡± he declared, turning to Dahlia. He gave her a cursory glance, barely pausing. ¡°That should be fine as is. Go, go! Try the other dress. I¡¯m waiting!¡±

    Dahlia giggled and nodded, disappearing back into her booth with the next outfit. Rose, however, rolled her eyes as she tugged the curtain closed. ¡°We should¡¯ve gone to Madam Henish¡¯s,¡± she muttered darkly, pulling the dress over her head.

 Chapter 14 - Idenfinitydidntforgetthisforthelastchapterpleaseignorethelackofwrodcount.lovU

    Eventually, they were dressed and ready to leave the shop, adorned in their new purchases. The shopkeeper, however, had no intention of letting them walk out in the same tattered clothes they¡¯d arrived in.

    ¡°These atrocities?¡± he exclaimed, holding up their old garments with a look of utter disgust. ¡°They need to be burned. Free of charge, of course!¡±

    Rose opened her mouth to argue, but before she could utter a word, the man had already marched to a furnace at the back of the shop. With a dramatic flourish, he tossed the clothes inside. The flames flared briefly, consuming the fabric with alarming speed.

    Rose blinked in stunned silence, watching her old dress vanish into the fire as though it had never existed.

    ¡°There! It¡¯s done,¡± he announced proudly, brushing his hands off as though he¡¯d done her a great service.

    Rose sighed, shaking her head. It wasn¡¯t as though she was particularly attached to those clothes¡ªthey were well past their last legs¡ªbut a little warning would have been nice. Still, she supposed he wasn¡¯t wrong.

    ¡°So, how much do I owe you?¡± she asked finally.

    ¡°Eh,¡± he waved his hand dismissively. ¡°10 Bron for the lot. Who cares?¡±

    What a grade-A asshole. Rose smiled thinly. ¡°I would hope you care.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, fine,¡± he groaned, rolling his eyes. ¡°5. The lot was a throwaway anyway.¡±

    Wait, what? Rose blinked in confusion. ¡°Five?¡±

    ¡°I did tailor them, didn¡¯t I?¡± he replied, his tone as exasperated as if she¡¯d accused him of robbery. ¡°Five is as low as I¡¯ll go.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°Oh¡­kay.¡± Rose quickly pulled the coins from her purse and passed them over, still reeling from the unexpected discount.

    ¡°Come back anytime!¡± he called over his shoulder, pocketing the coins before disappearing back into the chaos of the shop, vanishing into the nearest pile of clothes like a wraith.

    Rose stared at the mound of clothes for a moment, half expecting the shopkeeper to reemerge with another dramatic flourish. When he didn¡¯t, she turned to Dahlia, who was beaming in her new outfit¡ªa long-sleeved woolen kirtle over a linen shift, paired with thick woolen leg warmers.

    With a sigh, Rose adjusted the twine-wrapped bundle she carried over her shoulder. The string cut slightly into her hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said, gesturing for Dahlia to follow.

    The dresses were bundled neatly in scraps of fabric sewn into a makeshift bag. The bundle contained three changes of clothes for Dahlia, tailored for both the winter and summer. Two extra linen shifts, a faded gray woolen tunic dress, and another in faded red rounded out her daily winter wear, while a lightweight summer kirtle and wide-brimmed straw hat were tucked in preparation for the warmer months ahead.

    For herself, Rose had chosen, or rather she was obligated to get two new woolen kirtles¡ªone long-sleeved and a deep gray, and the other muted brown for heavier wear.

    Rose¡¯s gaze lingered on Dahlia, watching the child skip ahead, her new dress bouncing lightly with each step. She herself had to admit that the feeling of the new clothes were¡­ more than a little comfortable. ¡°Hold my hand here,¡± Rose called out.

    ¡°Okay!¡± Dahlia chirped, hurrying back to clasp her hand. She looked up at Rose with bright eyes. ¡°You look pretty!¡± she declared with a grin.

    Rose smiled faintly, the compliment pulling her from her thoughts. ¡°You look adorable too,¡± she replied, squeezing Dahlia¡¯s small hand.

    ¡°Hehe, I can¡¯t wait to show Mommy!¡± Dahlia exclaimed, her voice full of excitement.

    Rose¡¯s steps faltered. God damn it. The day had been going so well. Forcing a smile, she steadied her voice. ¡°She¡¯ll love them,¡± Rose said warmly, though the weight of the words tightened against her chest.

    As they started walking, Rose cast a sideways glance at the window once again, her eyes resting on the shoes. She shook her head. They could reuse the fabric encircling their purchase for added comfort. Wraps were good enough, Dahlia was right, it was an unneeded expense. adjusted the bundle on her shoulder again, ¡°Alright, where should we go now?¡±

 Chapter 15 ? Young Love

    Young Rose sat in her room, bent over a scrap of worn linen, painstakingly stitching a rose with thick, unruly thread. The fabric was coarse, and the thread¡ªmade from Kah fibers, a weed that grew abundantly in the region¡ªwas uneven, bulky, and prone to knotting. It was commonly used for patching clothes or mending sacks, but Rose¡¯s lack of skill with a needle made even this crude material seem impossibly difficult to work with.

    Her fingers trembled as the needle snagged the linen, tearing it further instead of creating the elegant rose she envisioned. The misshapen stitches sprawled across the fabric like a tangled web, and her frustration simmered just beneath the surface. She bit her lip hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

    Her punishment weighed on her, as suffocating as the stifling heat in the small room. Because of her forbidden trip to the forest, she was grounded for three days¡ªone for each coin she had earned. It was meant to be a lesson, though she couldn¡¯t fathom what she was supposed to learn from losing her freedom and, worse, her dress. The merchants had moved on, and the beautiful garment she had dreamed of owning was lost forever.

    At least, that¡¯s what she believed¡ªuntil Iris burst into her room like a whirlwind of cheer. Rose¡¯s older sister twirled dramatically, the fabric of her new dress flaring out as she spun, her face lit with a radiant smile.

    ¡°Rosie! Look at what Daddy got for me!¡± Iris chirped, her voice dripping with excitement.

    Rose froze, her hands clutching the fraying linen as a cold sensation crept over her. Her gaze drifted upward, and her stomach churned.

    ¡°That¡¯s...¡± she managed to choke out, her eyes widening as though they might pop from her skull.

    Iris, oblivious to her sister¡¯s dismay, beamed and struck a playful pose. ¡°Right? Isn¡¯t it super cute? And it feels amazing!¡± She smoothed the dress over her frame with exaggerated flair, clearly reveling in her own delight. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what it¡¯s made of, but I bet we¡¯ll never feel anything like this again. Go on, feel it!¡± She stepped closer, offering a sleeve to Rose, her smile as wide as the sky.

    Rose stared at the dress, a hollow ache spreading through her chest. She didn¡¯t need to touch it to know. The vibrant fabric, the intricate stitching¡ªit was unmistakable. The dress Iris now wore was the very one Rose had lost her coins trying to buy.

    Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, a sob caught in her throat, and she turned on her heel, fleeing the room. She ran from her home, the tears streaming down her face blurring her vision. She didn¡¯t pay attention to where her feet carried her¡ªshe just needed to get away.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    When she finally stopped, she found herself in the flower field. The sacred ground of the village, where the souls of their ancestors were said to rest, the flowers swaying gently as if breathing with the wind. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, exhausted. Her tears had long run dry by the time her legs gave out completely. She sat there, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, her breaths shallow and uneven.

    Some time passed before a shadow fell over her.

    ¡°Hey, Rose,¡± a voice called softly. ¡°Something bothering you?¡±

    She blinked, startled, and looked up. Acker stood there, his warm brown eyes steady and calm. The golden light of the setting sun framed him like something out of a dream, and she could only sniffle.

    He sat down beside her watching the sun set. For a moment, he said nothing, simply gazing out at the horizon. The flowers moved gently in the wind, as if bowing to the descending sun.

    ¡°Want to talk about it?¡± he asked after a while.

    Rose hesitated, her lip trembling. ¡°No,¡± she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

    Acker nodded as if that was enough, leaning back on his hands and watching the sky. The sun dipped lower, painting the village below in hues of gold and orange. The light caught the flowers, setting them aglow like tiny lanterns swaying in the breeze.

    The stillness loosened something in her chest. She didn¡¯t know why, but being here with him made it easier to speak. ¡°Sometimes¡­¡± she started, her voice faltering. She took a shaky breath and tried again. ¡°Sometimes I feel like I don¡¯t¡­ belong here.¡±

    Her words lingered in the air, fragile and unsure. Acker didn¡¯t look at her right away, his gaze still on the horizon. When he finally turned, his expression was soft, his eyes searching hers.

    ¡°Why would you think that?¡± he asked gently.

    Rose shrugged, picking at a blade of grass. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she whispered, though the words burned in her throat. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ everyone has a place, but I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t fit, not really.¡±

    Acker was quiet for a moment, letting her words settle. ¡°I think you¡¯re wrong.¡± he turned his head looking at her. ¡°You¡¯re part of this place, Rose,¡± he said.

    Her brow furrowed. ¡°But¡ª¡± she stopped as she looked up and found him holding a flower to her. A single red rose, its petals soft and vibrant, its thorns carefully removed.

    Her voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°Where did you get that?¡±

    He smiled faintly, tilting his head toward the flowers around them. ¡°It was hiding,¡± he said smoothly. ¡°Letting the other flowers have their moment in the sun, while it kept its beauty quiet. Waiting for the right one to notice.¡±

    Rose stared at the rose in his hand, her chest tightening at the weight of his words. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against the stem as she took it from him.

    ¡°I found it while looking for my own,¡± he continued, his voice quiet but steady. ¡°It was growing right next to it.¡±

    Her breath hitched, and a warmth crept up her face as she looked up at him. His gaze was gentle, sincere, and something about it made her pulse quicken. She blinked, unsure of what to say, her thoughts tangled and uncertain.

    A heat filled her face, a small flicker in her heart.

 Chapter 16 ?? - Leaving the House

    A pair of small hands rocked Rose awake. She groaned, burrowing her face deeper into the pillow, but the effort was interrupted by a familiar voice calling her name.

    ¡°Rose! Wake up!¡± Dahlia¡¯s voice was clear and insistent, punctuated by another gentle shake of her shoulder.

    Rose groaned again, a dull drumming in her head making her want to cry. But the shaking persisted, accompanied by a voice digging into her ears. ¡°Auntie Rose!¡±

    With a miserable groan, Rose cracked one eye open to find Dahlia standing over her. The girl¡¯s sharp eyes, bright with determination, narrowed in concentration as she worked to rouse her aunt. Rose blinked, struggling to shake off the lingering haze of sleep.

    Over the years, Dahlia¡¯s face had lost some of its soft roundness, her cheekbones now more defined. She had grown too¡ªtall enough to loom unsettlingly over Rose as she prodded her awake. Or perhaps it was the dim light, the flicker of the oil lamp casting shifting shadows, that distorted her frame, giving her an eerie, almost ghostly glow.

    Either way Rose was too miserable to care.

    ¡°What¡­?¡± Rose mumbled, her voice scratchy with sleep. She didn¡¯t bother lifting a hand to rub her eyes¡ªit was too much effort. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± If no one was dead yet, it couldn¡¯t be an emergency. Oh, wouldn¡¯t that be nice? Then she could sleep.

    ¡°Because it¡¯s time to get up!¡± Dahlia declared, her voice firm, almost commanding. ¡°You¡¯ve got to leave for work soon.¡±

    Rose scoffed, half-yawning as she buried her head back into the pillow. ¡°Impossible. My shift doesn¡¯t start for¡­¡± She trailed off, struggling to calculate through the fog of exhaustion. Deciding it wasn¡¯t worth the effort, she went with the simplest excuse. ¡°I just laid down,¡± she mumbled, her words slurred and muffled in the warm comfort of the bed.

    One of her better purchases had been the new bed for Dahlia, though it had cost a good portion of their funds¡ªa heavy blow. Still, the improvement was worth it; now they could sleep separately, undisturbed by each other¡¯s tossing and turning. Not that it made mornings any easier.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t just lay down¡ªyou fell asleep!¡± Dahlia shot back, giving Rose a gentle shove to push her back and forth. ¡°Get up, or you¡¯re going to be late.¡±

    Rose grumbled at the sharpness of Dahlia¡¯s voice, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to force herself up. The words echoed in her mind until she couldn¡¯t take it anymore.

    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± she said, summoning what little energy she could muster. ¡°I get it, I¡¯ll get up. Jesus.¡±

    Dahlia tilted her head curiously. ¡°Jesus?¡±

    Rose waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him. Anyway, what time is it?¡± she asked half expecting this to be a ridiculous childhood joke.

    ¡°First light just happened,¡± Dahlia replied.

    ¡°Fuuu.¡± Rose could cry. Her weary eyes drifted to the small window in their room, where the faint glow of morning crept through.

    Rose groaned as she noticed the growing light outside. ¡°Seriously?¡± she muttered. ¡°I just got to sleep.¡±

    She shook her head. She had gotten some rest, but it was never enough. These days, it felt like it never would be. The old woman¡¯s funds had run out faster than she¡¯d hoped, and though she¡¯d managed to get Dahlia into school for two years, she hadn¡¯t received a proper raise. Instead, she¡¯d had to extend her hours to meet a compromise her boss deemed ¡°acceptable.¡±

    ¡°Self-centered jackass,¡± she muttered under her breath.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Dahlia asked, her tone curious, but Rose clicked her tongue and waved the girl away. ¡°Nothing, you don''t need to be so curious.¡± she complained.

    Undeterred Dahlia spoke up ¡°I made you breakfast,¡± placing a plate of simple, cheap fare on the table.

    ¡°Thanks, but I¡¯m not hungry,¡± Rose replied, closing her eyes as her stomach churned. These days, even the sight of food seemed to twist it uncomfortably.

    ¡°You need to eat,¡± Dahlia insisted, her voice firm.

    ¡°I¡¯ll eat at work,¡± Rose countered, her tone tinged with annoyance. The girl never listened anymore, growing far too independent for her liking. The plan had worked¡ªDahlia wasn¡¯t suffering, and soon enough, she¡¯d be out of Rose¡¯s hair. It was almost time for her to meet the prince and be swept off her feet by the duke¡¯s son.

    Soon. Just a little longer to go¡­

    ¡°You really need to eat,¡± Dahlia repeated, but Rose stood, brushing past her.

    ¡°I need to get going,¡± Rose said curtly. She paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder. ¡°Make sure to pay attention in school today,¡± she added before stepping out.

    ¡°School?¡± Dahlia blinked, her expression shifting before her eyes widened. ¡°Right. School.¡±

    Rose turned back, frowning. ¡°You are doing well in school, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    There was a pause, just long enough to make her suspicious, before Dahlia nodded. ¡°Of course,¡± she said.

    ¡°Of course¡­¡± Rose echoed softly, shaking her head to clear the sluggish thoughts creeping in. She needed to get to work¡ªdusk to dawn, or at least this world¡¯s version of it.

    Dahlia glanced at her aunt and offered, ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better if I helped?¡±

    Helped. The word twisted in Rose¡¯s mind. This child kept offering to help. It had been appreciated at first, but now it was just an annoyance. Dahlia was already doing enough¡ªkeeping the house tidy, trying to cook. Rose didn¡¯t need more help; she needed the kid¡¯s knight in shining armor to whisk her away already.

    Rose took a deep breath, steadying herself. In and out. Slowly.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said softly, ¡°but a child shouldn¡¯t have to force herself to help. Just focus on school and have fun with your friends.¡±

    Without waiting for a response, she turned and left quickly.

    <hr>

    The journey to the library wasn¡¯t as long as the one to the caf¨¦, but it wasn¡¯t short either. And now, she had to be there from start to finish¡ªevery shift¡ªjust to fail at scraping by. Eventually, forcing a deal with a devil.

    Speaking of the devil, as she opened her door, a shadow loomed¡ªa large, burly man waiting for her. Her heart quickened as recognition hit. ¡°Boris,¡± Rose muttered, blinking in surprise. Her teeth caught her lower lip as unease crept in. She glanced back quickly, catching sight of Dahlia¡¯s wide blue eyes peeking from the corner of the room.

    Rose stepped outside, shutting the door firmly behind her. ¡°What do you want?¡± she demanded, her voice low but steady.

    Boris stood before her, a mountain of a man¡ªbroad with both muscle and fat. More boulder than man, really. And acting the part of a dog. His smile stretched wide, revealing rotted teeth twisted at odd angles. ¡°Just a warning, darling,¡± he said, his voice gravelly.

    Rose¡¯s stomach churned, but she didn¡¯t flinch. Her eyes narrowed. ¡°I paid off that loan two weeks ago.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Interest,¡± Boris replied with a casual shrug, as though the word itself explained everything. ¡°You never paid off the interest.¡±

    ¡°There was no interest on the loan,¡± she snapped, her jaw tightening.

    Boris raised a thick hand, jabbing a knuckle into her chest. His grin widened as he dragged it downward, slow and deliberate. ¡°That was before the boss gave you such a fine offer,¡± he said, his words dripping with mockery.

    Rose smacked his hand away and took a step back. The rough wood of the door pressed against her back, cool and unyielding. Boris only smiled wider at her reaction, his grin turning more sinister. ¡°That was before you rejected him, of course,¡± he said, his tone low and mocking.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t part of¡ª¡± she began, but her words were cut off as his large, filthy hand shot forward and

    gripped her face. His rough palm and thick fingers pressed hard against her mouth and nose, muffling her

    voice and making it difficult to breathe. Her pulse raced as the acrid stench of him filled her. It was a scent that clung to him like a second skin, a testament to years of violence and disregard for the world

    around him.

    ¡°The deal has changed as soon as you rejected him,¡± he growled, twisting his lips into a smile, ¡°left you open to the rest of us though.¡± he laughed, chilling her core. ¡°Standard rate. You owe 5 Brons now. You¡¯ve got two options. Nod, or¡­¡± he let the open sentence fill the air between them.

    He didn¡¯t finish the sentence. He didn¡¯t need to. The glint in his angry, yellow eyes told her exactly what the alternative was. Exactly what he was hoping for.

    Rose¡¯s heart pounded as she looked around with desperate, wide eyes. The narrow street was busy¡ªvendors were setting up their stalls, arranging wares in preparation for the day ahead. Some were already finished, chatting idly or calling out to passing customers. But no one did more than cast a fleeting, curious glance in her direction. Not one person stopped.

    Not one person cared.

    She wasn¡¯t just alone¡ªshe was worse than alone. Inside, behind a flimsy wooden door that groaned under the weight of her own head being pushed against it, was a little girl. A girl separated from this monster by barely an inch of wood.

    Rose looked up at Boris, meeting his menacing yellow eyes. Her throat tightened, and her body trembled as she did the only thing she could do.

    She nodded.

    Boris clicked his tongue, displeased, and released her roughly, his hand leaving a dull ache across her face. ¡°Good, good,¡± he said, his tone almost casual now. ¡°So, that¡¯s one missed payment, meaning you owe four more¡ªplus five extra for the trouble.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Rose snapped, her voice cracking with disbelief.

    Boris¡¯s grin vanished. She froze. ¡°I¡­ I mean,¡± she stammered, dropping her gaze to her feet. She didn¡¯t dare look at those awful eyes again. ¡°Fine.¡±

    Her trembling hands fumbled as she reached for her coin purse. It took longer than it should have to fish out nine ¨¦tain, her fingers clumsy and weak with fear. Slowly, she raised her hand, flinching as Boris snatched the coins greedily from her grasp. The rough scrape of his fingers against hers sent a shiver down her spine.

    Boris chuckled as he pocketed the money. ¡°Pleasure doing business, darling,¡± he sneered, his tone dripping with malice. Then, leaning in closer, his shadow swallowed her whole. ¡°Although,¡± he added, his suggestion heavy in the air, ¡°there is another way you can pay.¡±

    The insinuation wasn¡¯t new. It was familiar, vile, and made nearly every time she had to repay their extortion.

    ¡°I¡¯m not doing that,¡± Rose spat, her voice low but sharp.

    Boris¡¯s grin widened, his yellowed teeth catching the dim light. ¡°Maybe not you,¡± he said slowly, his tone dripping with menace. ¡°But we know a few men who¡¯d be more than happy to have some entertainment from that little blue-eyed number you¡¯ve got tucked away back there.¡±

    The words hit Rose like a slap. Her eyes snapped up, locking onto his face. The icy fear that had gripped her moments ago burned away, replaced by a searing, fiery rage. ¡°What did you say?¡± she hissed, her voice trembling with fury.

    For a fleeting moment, Boris seemed to falter, shrinking under the intensity of her glare. But he quickly puffed himself back up, looming over her. ¡°You heard me,¡± he said, his smile turning even darker. ¡°If you want to pay off the debt, let us borrow the kid for a bit. Don¡¯t worry,¡± he added with a low, mocking chuckle, ¡°we¡¯ll give her back.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Mostly intact.¡±

    The chuckle didn¡¯t last.

    Rose¡¯s hand flew across his face with a sharp, resounding crack.

    Boris stood frozen, stunned¡ªnot from the pain, but from the audacity of her action. His face remained unmoved, his lips twitching as if he were still processing what had just happened.

    Rose didn¡¯t hesitate. Emboldened by her fury, she stepped forward and jabbed her finger into his broad chest. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare threaten her,¡± she snarled, her voice steady and fierce. ¡°I don¡¯t care about you or your boss. If you ever even try to come near her, I will¡ª¡±

    She didn¡¯t finish. Couldn''t finish.

    Boris¡¯s massive hand shot up, grabbing her outstretched finger mid-sentence. His grip was like a vice, closing around it with brutal force and he twisted it, hard. Rose gasped as a sharp, searing pain shot up her arm.

    ¡°Big words,¡± Boris growled, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers tightened further, and Rose felt the bone splinter. A choked cry escaped her lips, but she refused to back down, her glare locked on his.

    He chuckled, a deep, menacing sound that vibrated in the narrow space. His breath, hot and foul, washed over her face as his fingers twisted cruelly, forcing her broken finger further back. ¡°You¡¯re just a washed up old crow,¡± he sneered, each word dripping with venom. ¡°Without money, a man, or anyone to care for them.

    Rose cried out as sharp, searing pain shot up her arm. Her legs buckled slightly, the unrelenting pressure driving her back against the door.

    ¡°You should be grateful my boss is the one after her,¡± Boris continued, his tone mocking and cruel. ¡°If it were the old boss, you¡¯d already have a slit across that scrawny little neck of yours.¡± His yellowed teeth gleamed as he twisted her finger further, clearly relishing the sound of her muffled sobs.

    The pain was unbearable. Rose¡¯s breath hitched, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whimpered, her voice breaking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Please¡­ please, please.¡± Her tears streamed freely as she gasped through the overwhelming agony. ¡°Please, stop.¡±

    Boris¡¯s grin widened, his sadistic glee ignited by her pleas. He held her there a moment longer, savoring her desperation like a fine meal. Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, he released her. ¡°Next time,¡± he said darkly, looming over her, ¡°it will be your neck.¡±

    His words were cold, final, and unrelenting.

    Without another word, he turned and lumbered off, his bulk disappearing into the bustling crowd as though nothing had happened. Passersby cast fleeting glances but didn¡¯t stop, their lives continuing as though she hadn¡¯t just been shattered.

    <hr>

    Rose slumped against the door, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. Her trembling hands clutched her injured, twisted finger, the pain sharp and unrelenting. Slowly, her legs gave out entirely, and she slid down to the ground.

    Her vision blurred as tears streamed freely down her cheeks, hot and bitter. The worst part wasn¡¯t the pain. It wasn¡¯t even the humiliation.

    The worst part was knowing it wasn¡¯t over.

    With a shaky breath, Rose curled her uninjured hand around the twisted finger. Even the slightest touch sent fresh waves of pain through her, making her wince. But she had to do this.

    The people in the street milled about, preoccupied with their own lives. No guards would come. No one would help. She was on her own.

    Taking a deep breath, she braced herself¡ªand pulled.

    Pain exploded through her hand, and she cried out, the sound raw and broken. She stared at the finger, now crooked and misshapen, knowing it would never be quite right again.

    Her legs shook as she pushed herself upright. She took a wobbly step forward, and the door creaked open behind her. She froze, the blood pounding in her ears, as a voice rang out.

    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± The voice was too calm, lacking any of the innocence it should have.

    Rose swallowed hard, her throat tight. ¡°Fine,¡± she managed to spit out, though her voice cracked.

    A small hand tugged at her dress. ¡°Is everything alright?¡± the voice repeated, softer now, almost timid.

    Rose twisted around sharply, slapping the little hand away before she could stop herself. ¡°I said it was fine!¡± she barked, her tone sharp and biting.

    She froze as her eyes met Dahlia¡¯s¡ªwide, startled, and filled with concern.

    Rose¡¯s stomach twisted. Guilt churned within her as she took in the sight of Dahlia¡¯s worried expression. She wanted to reassure her, to tell her everything would be okay.

    But the words that came out were sharp and venomous.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need you worrying about me! I¡¯ve got my hands full already dealing with the mess you brought with you!¡± the words burned her throat as they escaped.

    She bit down hard on her lip, trying to keep more words from spilling out. She turned on her heel, her steps uneven as she fled into the streets.

    Part of her hated how good it felt to finally say it aloud¡ªthat everything was Dahlia¡¯s fault. If it weren¡¯t for her, there¡¯d be no constant worry about money, no scraping by just to keep her in that stupid school. Her life would have been easier without her.

    The thought made her feel like a monster, but it also felt like the first breath of air after drowning.

    ¡°Auntie Rose!¡± Dahlia¡¯s small voice called out behind her, tinged with worry that only deepened the knot in Rose¡¯s chest.

    ¡°I need to get to work!¡± Rose shouted, her voice snapping like a whip. She didn¡¯t dare look back.

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°I said I was fine!¡± she screamed, her voice cracking as tears spilled freely down her face. She couldn¡¯t stop herself from nearly sprinting away, her heart aching worse than her hand.

 Chapter 17 ?? - Gates and Guards

    Her body trembled with each step, silent sobs catching in her throat as her breath hitched erratically. She cradled her swollen hand against her chest; the throbbing pain convinced her she¡¯d broken it when she slapped Boris square across his ugly, smug face. She could do nothing for the sharp agony shooting up her arm except give a wry smile. A half-laugh, half-sob escaped her. It was worth it. It had to be. It might be the last defiant action she would ever take, but at least she¡¯d taken it. The smile fell from her face.

    Blood seeped from her injured hand, dark crimson droplets staining her last good dress. She winced as she glanced down, noting the vivid red smears against the fabric. At least it wasn¡¯t torn¡ªjust ruined. That was something, right? She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to keep walking down the road, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. It was a difficult feat in this crowded city, especially since every step sent a jarring pain through her hand, and no one cared to delay themselves for her. People pushed past as usual.

    One hit caused her to stumble to a stop, leaning heavily against a soot-streaked wall just off the main street. The rough stone was cold and damp against her back, grounding her for a moment. She cradled her injured hand tighter, her fingers trembling as she inspected the mess. The swelling had worsened, her skin turning a darker shade. With a bitter sigh, she thought back to the moment of... theft. That¡¯s what it was¡ªnot a repayment on a loan. But what else should she expect? Lie, cheat, and steal. That¡¯s all this city was full of. Now, all she had left were three measly ¨¦tains to her name.

    It had been a stupid idea to use the last of the Argine to finish the loan. She scratched at her temple with her good hand. Her cracked nails digging into her skin. ¡°Not that any idea I have is any good,¡± she choked out with an unamused laugh. ¡°Can¡¯t do that, Rose. Stop with the silly ideas, Rose. Shut up, Rose.¡± She could only laugh bitterly at how every opportunity she brought to that useless manager was shot down for no reason. None he would tell her anyways, but maybe he was right. She couldn''t even find a better job, or even another job.

    ¡°I mean, this is a fantasy world; they obviously would have some stupid magical printer just because,¡± she muttered sarcastically. Tapping her head to quiet the throbbing ache inside. That would mean everything was just too expensive¡ªthat she had nothing new to bring to this world, making her just another useless peasant. Two short giggles escaped her lips. Her hand fell uselessly to her side at the idea. The throbbing ache faded with it. She shook her head slowly.

    Not so long ago, she¡¯d felt a flicker of pride for the two extra coins she¡¯d managed to save that week. Now, she was further away than she¡¯d ever been. With a sigh, she clenched her jaw and pushed off the wall, willing her legs to keep moving.

    By the time she reached the city gate, she had regained what little composure she could muster. The towering gates loomed ahead, dividing the city to keep the so-called proper citizens within and the less desirable out. No one liked the poor¡ªnot even the poor themselves. She let out a sharp chuckle, the thought pulling a faint smile to her lips. ¡°No one likes the poor, not even themselves,¡± she sang softly, her gaze sweeping over the sturdy iron bars and the armed guards stationed nearby.

    She couldn¡¯t help but scoff at the irony¡ªa free library, the Archekaas¨¨, supposedly open to all, yet guarded by gates that kept out the poor and unwanted. Another cruel joke in a world full of them. She laughed, the rhythm of her pain pulsing through her swollen hand.

    Her job did entitled her to live beyond the gates, but the cost of even a small room there was triple her current rent. ¡°A penniless old woman surrounded by paper gold, polish them nicely so they can get sold. And a penny she¡¯ll earn to keep her from starving, but stolen away by her sister''s orphaned offspring.¡± She sang, wanting to cry but laughed instead. After all, her tears were long spent.

    She passed the long, chaotic line for the main gate. The crowd was a noisy tangle of commoners, laborers, and the occasional low-ranking noble trying to blend in. Almost all carried a pass¡ªa carded iron plate that would grant them entry without issue. Others, however, had to submit to inspection. Rose, however, was technically a city employee, so she could use a different gate¡ªmore of a door, really. Her hand drifted to her coin purse, her fingers fumbling for the small iron tag inside.

    Near a smaller side entrance, another line had formed. This one was shorter and far less ornate than the nobles¡¯ bypass on the opposite side of the main gate. She shuffled toward it, the faint clang of the city bell echoing in the distance as the morning haze began to lift. She sighed inwardly.

    She was officially late.

    The iron door was marked with the city guard''s insignia¡ªa shield quartered in the city¡¯s colors, blue and yellow, forming a checkerboard pattern¡ªbeside the city administration¡¯s emblem: a yellow bell tied with a blue ribbon, outlined against the shape of a building. She joined the line, tucking her injured hand beneath her cloak to hide its state as the two others ahead of her cast her sideways glances. Their expressions, tight with judgment, weren¡¯t new to her, but today she felt the urge to adjust her cloak and stare straight ahead, feigning indifference while biting her tongue against the pain.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    She would have preferred using the main entrance over this gate, but the process would be slower, and there was nothing to gain from it. She¡¯d still be pulled aside randomly for an "inspection," despite her iron tag marking her as a state employee. Iron was expensive, especially now that it was designated as a military resource. It made sense, given the state of things¡ªthey needed weapons, and they needed them soon.

    The iron door creaked open with a metallic groan, and a guard stepped out, his voice sharp and authoritative. ¡°Next.¡±

    The man at the front of the line stepped inside, the door clanging shut behind him with practiced efficiency and a hint of annoyance. The process repeated, and Rose found herself at the front of the line. A few others had trickled in behind her as the door opened again.

    ¡°Next,¡± the words came, and the familiar voice burned Rose¡¯s ears, causing her stomach to fall. She stepped forward and sighed sharply. She didn¡¯t need to look up to know who was on duty today.

    His voice laced with unwelcome familiarity as she stepped inside. ¡°Hello, little flower.¡± She raised her iron pass without a word, hoping he¡¯d just send her on her way, but she couldn''t hope for it. He knew she was late.

    Her fears were confirmed when he took the tag from her and told her to ¡°take a seat,¡± with a smirk.

    Rose exhaled sharply as she walked past him. Four tables were lined up neatly along one wall, each meant for processing unrecognized workers. Unrecognized, new, not her but here she was coming to one of the unoccupied tables and sitting down while the other guards were gathered in a corner playing cards.

    Rose muttered under her breath, her voice laced with bitterness. ¡°Bet the nobles don¡¯t have to deal with this.¡±

    The familiar guard slid into the seat across from her, leaning back casually, as if this were a friendly chat and not childish harassment. The guard might have been passably good-looking and even kinder than some of his colleagues, but she wasn¡¯t about to trade her dignity for his so-called kindness. Especially not to be a tool in his petty grudge against his wife.

    ¡°So?¡± he began, his tone light but prying. His gaze dropped to her swollen hand. ¡°What happened to your hand, little flower?¡±

    Her grip tightened around her injured hand, shielding it from his eyes. ¡°Fell,¡± she replied flatly. It didn¡¯t matter what she said; he didn¡¯t care. He was probably in that bastard¡¯s pocket¡ªor maybe not. He was likely too low-level for even that. She gritted her teeth to stop a smile from curling on her lips.

    ¡°Awful fall, huh?¡± he mused, tapping the iron tag against the table absentmindedly. ¡°You know, I happen to know a good priest. Don''t take kindly to strangers, but I could put in a word for you. But¡­¡± he let the suggestion hang open.

    Rose didn¡¯t even flinch, her response automatic. ¡°I¡¯m not working for free,¡± she said, her voice firm. She¡¯d repeated this line to him so many times it had become second nature. He always came back with the same offer, refusing to take a hint.

    The guard leaned in slightly, his smirk widening as he lowered his voice. ¡°Who said anything about working for free? I¡¯d pay you, of course,¡± he chuckled, ¡°just not with coin.¡± His fingers reached out, grazing her cheek with deliberate slowness, and her stomach churned.

    She froze. The air seemed to thicken around her as she was trapped by a memory¡ªa recent one. This morning. Her hand burning. Her broken finger on fire. Despite this, she managed to respond with a steady voice. ¡°I need a job that pays.¡±

    The guard chuckled softly, the sound low and grating, sending a shiver down her spine. ¡°Oh, Rose,¡± he murmured, flicking her nose playfully and causing her stomach to stiffen. Her jaw tightening as a grimace crossed her face. ¡°Still clinging to that lovely little story about your child? Sometimes I think you make her up just to turn me down.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s doing fine at merchant school,¡± Rose said, her tone sharp and clipped. ¡°Gets top marks.¡±

    Not that it really mattered in the end. This would be Dahlia¡¯s last year at school either way. Rose couldn¡¯t afford anything beyond that. She¡¯d saved enough for two years, foolishly thinking she could find another job or convince her boss to give her a raise. But all she¡¯d learned was that she was unemployable¡­ and desperate.

    Her hand twitched involuntarily, the sharp pain from her broken finger making her flinch. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look back up at the guard¡¯s twisted grin. Not that desperate. The thought felt hollow, growing dimmer with each passing day.

    Still, Rose clung to one small consolation¡ªDahlia had made a few friends. That had to count for something. She wasn¡¯t alone and miserable. At least she had that going for her. It had to.

    In the end, Dahlia would leave happy, without the need for revenge. Soon. Rose¡¯s head throbbed, the usual ache returning. Any day now.

 Chapter 18 ?? - Four Walls and a Single Chair

    ¡°Oh, impressive,¡± the guard said, dragging her back to the moment. He rolled his eyes as he examined her iron pass, holding it up as though inspecting its authenticity. Rose¡¯s ears burned as she could only hope¡­ ¡°Although¡­¡± He tilted his head, his mock-serious expression laced with amusement. ¡°There¡¯s something odd about this. You sure it¡¯s real iron?¡±

    Rose exhaled heavily, her shoulders slumping. Why did she hope? She knew what would happen. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± she muttered, her voice flat with resignation. She raised herself from the chair, ¡°lead the way.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the guard replied, standing in one smooth motion. He turned, gesturing for her to follow.

    Rose trudged after him, each step automatic as her entire body went numb, broken by the occasional jolt of her hand, a reminder to stay in line. Keep her head down and just¡­ let it happen. She had no power here. Just like she¡¯d had no power with Boris. Just like she had no power in her own damn home.

    Her nails dug into the skin of her arm, the sting briefly grounding her, distracting her from the relentless throbbing in her hand and the ache in her mind.

    The guard opened a door, stepping aside with a theatrical flourish. ¡°After you,¡± he said with false politeness.

    Rose stepped through without hesitation. The air inside was cold, stale. The room was small, windowless, and suffocatingly plain¡ªjust four walls, a single chair, and a pattern of dried blood staining the floor.

    She didn¡¯t wait for him to say anything. Without a word, she began undressing, desperate to get this over with. Her fingers fumbled slightly, slowed only by the sharp pain and awkwardness of her broken hand, but she would rather do this herself than ask for help or complain. After all, it was the only dress she had left that wasn¡¯t torn. In fact, she¡¯d lost her first dress to one of these ¡®inspections.¡¯

    Behind her, the guard chuckled as he stepped inside. ¡°That broken hand suits you. Slows you down¡ªjust how I like it.¡± Ge laughed at her, closing the door and locking it with a deliberate click. The sound of the lock sliding into place sent a ripple of unease down her spine. ¡°Come on then, give us a show. There''s a good girl¡±

    Rose closed her eyes, trying to steady her frayed emotions. ¡°Albert just looks,¡± she quickly reassured herself. ¡°He''s all talk.¡± yet that did nothing to help the quick beat of her heart.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    She shot him an angry glare. ¡°Seriously, you should move on,¡± she snapped, her voice sharper than she¡¯d intended. ¡°I¡¯m never going to say yes. I¡¯m sure there are plenty of other women here who¡¯d jump at the chance to be your mistress.¡±

    He was good-looking, after all¡ªtall, with sharp features and piercing eyes that would have been attractive if not for his ugly, unredeemable personality.

    ¡°But I don¡¯t want any other woman,¡± he said smoothly, leaning back in the chair as though he owned the room. His gaze swept over her with an unsettling hunger, lingering in ways that made her skin crawl as the dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. ¡°I want you, my pet.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t just the persistence that made her skin crawl¡ªit was the way he framed it, as if his attention were a gift she should be grateful for. And she couldn''t do anything about it. She was trapped in this room. This city. This world. They could do anything and no one would bat an eye. Yet if she so much as dared to complain.

    ¡°An old, sickly-looking spinster with nothing going for her,¡± he continued. ¡°Perfect revenge.¡±

    Rose froze for a moment, her mind recoiling at his words. Old? Sickly? Spinster? The insults twisted in her chest, mingling with her already fragile state of mind. ¡°Excuse me?¡± she said, her voice colder now, her movements halting.

    He clapped his hands together, his laughter ringing through the room, ¡°There it is,¡± he exclaimed, ¡°You always give me the cutest expressions!¡± His grin widened. ¡°And why not? Not much else you can do is there? Besides, Margaret¡¯s been screwing some bastard behind my back for years,¡± he said, the venom in his words thinly masked by a forced nonchalance. ¡°Why not return the favor? Show her she¡¯s nothing more¡ªno, less¡ªthan the ugly little crow standing in front of me.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re harping on this?¡± she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief. Her heart pounded, the pain in her broken hand now dwarfed by the raw ache clawing at her chest.

    She didn¡¯t know what was worse: the fact that it was all just a game to them, that she was nothing more than an object to play with, or the sinking realization that he wanted her because she was something ugly¡ªsomething that would humiliate his wife. She wasn¡¯t even a prize. Just a punchline.

    Her nails dug into her arm, the sharp sting grounding her as his words echoed in her mind. Ugly¡­ little crow. It made a certain kind of sense. They always mocked her age, her appearance. And yet they still¡­ She bit her tongue, hard enough to taste blood. Somehow, that made it all worse.

    He shrugged lazily, his smug smile as infuriating as ever. ¡°Sure,¡± he replied, leaning back in his chair as if this conversation amused him. His eyes swept over her again, ¡°Keep going.¡± he ordered simply. ¡°Don''t want to be here all day, do you? What would the good Lord Silvio think of that?¡±

    Rose was pulled from her shock by his words, Her chest tightened as his words drove home how easily he could threaten her job. And he didn''t even care for her. Miserable people ruining others lives just because they could. Except how could she call them miserable. That word could belong only to her, after all her own life truly was--- ¡°oh? Would you like to stay the night?¡± he offered with a pleasant smile.

    Rose quickly moved, pulling the last of her clothes off as he snickered at her, causing her skin to crawl.

    ¡°I mean, you¡¯re¡­¡± He paused deliberately, dragging his gaze up and down her naked frame. ¡°decent enough, I guess.¡± he shrugged casually as if he was judging a pied dog. All Rose could do was ball her hands, the pain was more than enough to keep her emotions in check.

    ¡°Not something that would be pretty, mind you, but maybe if you put some meat on you, you''d look decent. But seriously, why bother?¡± His voice turned dismissive, as he waved her away. Words lumped in her throat but she swallowed them. She wanted to get through this quickly. ¡°You¡¯re an old woman who¡¯s never going to find a husband with that miserable attitude of yours.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m 25,¡± she spat, the words barely audible. She closed her eyes, annoyed that she¡¯d said anything at all.

    The guard laughed again, his amusement only deepening. ¡°Seriously? That¡¯s older than I thought!¡± he said gleefully. ¡°Why are you even bothering anymore? Do you even know any other women in their 20s who aren¡¯t married?¡±

    Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, she felt the faintest flicker of defiance. But her finger twitched, the movement sending a jolt of pain through her hand¡ªa reminder of what happened the second she stepped out of line. The rage that flared was instantly cooled by a chilling, empty helplessness. She couldn¡¯t do anything. That would just make it worse. Everything she did just made things worse. She stood there quietly, looking back at the guard, her open hands dangling by her sides.

    He clicked his tongue, knowing he would get nothing more from her. He stood and closed the remaining distance between them. ¡°Well, whatever,¡± he continued, stopping inches from her. ¡°Good shelter. Decent food,¡± the guard began, his words slow and deliberate. He patted her belly, causing her to flinch reflexively. ¡°Might even get some meat on those bones.¡± He chuckled, his breath hot and sour against her face. ¡°All you have to do is sit there, look pretty,¡± he added with a shrug, poking the tip of her nose again, ¡°and give my wife a little grief.¡±

    Rose shook her head. Taking a steadying breath, she forced a bitter smile to her lips. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s all? You forgot the part where I have sex with you whenever you feel like it.¡± His own personal private whore. That¡¯s what he wanted. No¡ªpeople are attracted to whores, aren¡¯t they? That would make her something worse. She¡¯d be nothing more than a slave, entirely dependent on this man.

    The guard shrugged again, unfazed by her tone, his smirk deepening. ¡°I mean, yeah. But honestly, that¡¯s a treat for you, isn¡¯t it?¡± His voice turned condescending, dripping with the same tone one might use when talking to a child.

    This time, she managed to slap his hand away. She didn¡¯t feel afraid now. She felt nothing but a hollow ache in her chest. Taking a sharp step back, she answered him, her voice cold and steady. ¡°I¡¯ve already given you my answer. Are you finished with your ¡®inspection¡¯?¡±

    The guard¡¯s smirk faltered. He took a small, angry breath. Then after a moment, he chuckled. The smile returned and he leaned forward, raising a hand and brushing his fingers against her cheek. ¡°Almost,¡± he murmured, catching her good hand as she raised it to push him off. ¡°Though I think I need to make sure there¡¯s nothing you¡¯re trying to smuggle in.¡±

    There was no joy in his voice anymore, only a lingering, annoyed anger. Her breath hitched in understanding, and her heart began pounding in her chest. It was a thin line, and she crossed it with one small act of defiance. Again, she made things worse. The tension in the room grew suffocating, but before she could say anything, a sharp bolt sounded, signaling the lock¡¯s release. Both turned toward the door, which swung open with a loud creak.

 Chapter 19 ?? False Laughter

    Rose blinked in surprise. It took her a moment to register what she was looking at. Standing in the doorway was a woman dressed similarly to the guards at least in color and overall look but it was completely different, and after a few blinks she realized by the guard¡¯s pin over her left breast that this woman was another guard. Unlike Albert, the man before her clad in bulky iron armor, this woman wore something entirely different: a leather uniform dyed a striking yellow.

    The leather bodice hugged her figure tightly, its corset-like leather armor pulling the waist inward to create a commanding yet graceful silhouette. Puffed shoulders lent a touch of regality, framing a high collar. Golden embroidery curled like delicate vines along the edges of the skirted jacket as it tried to hide the shocking fact that there were the trousers, practical and unadorned, underneath it.

    Rose¡¯s eyes darted to Albert as he straightened his back, stepping away from Rose. His uniform was the familiar one, the one all the guards wore. The blue colored jacket he wore was concealed beneath an iron breastplate. The only ornamentation being a bold gold trim around the blue fabric. His shoulders didn''t have fabric puff but metal armor plates. His gloves, thick and rugged, mirrored the practicality of his belt and pouches¡ªsimple and functional.

    Albert straightened abruptly, his smirk replaced by unease. ¡°La¡ªRicaut,¡± he stammered, catching himself before addressing her the wrong way again.

    The woman¡ªRicaut, Rose assumed¡ªstepped further into the room, her gaze sweeping the scene with a sharpness that made Rose shrink into herself. The draft from the open door felt colder against her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill in Ricaut¡¯s eyes as they settled on her. Her eyes looking her up and down as her lips form a stiff frown.

    ¡°Enjoying yourself, Albert?¡± Ricaut asked, her voice like a blade, cold and cutting.

    Albert¡¯s response came quickly, his voice smooth and practiced. ¡°Just conducting an inspection,¡± he said, nodding toward Rose with mock professionalism. ¡°Though this one required a closer eye due to her injury. Horribly out of place.¡±

    Rose¡¯s stomach twisted at the blatant lie. His tone was so convincing, so casual, that she almost laughed at the absurdity of it. She knew better than to trust anyone here, but something about Ricaut¡¯s icy demeanor made her wonder if this time might be different. She dared a glance at the female guard, only to find her sharp eyes narrowing. Rose¡¯s cheeks burned with renewed shame, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, unsure of what to do, let alone whether to redress herself.

    Ricaut scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± she said, her words dripping with disdain. She turned back to Albert, shaking her head as if disgusted. ¡°I assume she has an employee pass?¡± Her tone made it clear she wasn¡¯t asking.

    Rose couldn¡¯t help but enjoy watching Albert squirm as he hesitated for the briefest moment before showing her the iron plate in his hand.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said reluctantly, handing it over. ¡°She¡¯s known to come by, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Quiet,¡± Ricaut snapped, cutting Albert off mid-sentence. She turned the pass over in her hands, inspecting it with a frown. ¡°The public library,¡± she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°How quaint.¡±

    Her sharp eyes shifted to Rose, who suddenly felt very naked. Rose could only spare a fleeting glance before lifting her arms instinctively, a feeble attempt to cover herself. Her ears burned with shame she hadn¡¯t felt in years.

    Albert opened his mouth as if to argue, but Ricaut¡¯s glare silenced him before he could speak. ¡°You¡¯re done here, Albert,¡± she said curtly. ¡°Go.¡±

    ¡°But Lady¡ªI mean Ricaut, there¡¯s really no reason¡ª¡± Albert began, only to be silenced by her glare.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°The next thing you should be doing is walking,¡± Ricaut interrupted, her tone as firm as iron. There was no room for argument.

    For a moment, Albert stood frozen, his face a mix of frustration and embarrassment as Rose was shocked at the fact that this woman guard was also a noble. Didn''t they have their own order, why lower herslef to being a guard?

    With a grudging nod, Albert¡¯s jaw tightening in barely concealed frustration. ¡°As you wish,¡± he muttered. He turned on his heel and left, grumbling under his breath as the door clicked shut behind him.

    For a moment, Rose stood frozen, her heart thudding faintly. A cautious flicker of hope stirred within her chest, its warmth so foreign it felt almost unwelcome. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they hired female guards,¡± she blurted out awkwardly.

    Ricaut¡¯s head snapped toward her, and Rose instantly regretted speaking. The guard¡¯s expression turned colder, her disdain palpable. ¡°I didn¡¯t know the Archekaas¨¨ hired whores,¡± Ricaut spat, the words striking like a physical blow.

    Rose¡¯s mouth fell open in shock. ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Quiet,¡± Ricaut snapped again, raising a hand to silence her. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m here to put an end to this foolishness. These men are here to work, not to play.¡±

    Rose blinked, trying to process the situation, but Ricaut was already turning away.

    ¡°Get dressed,¡± Ricaut commanded, her voice clipped and icy. ¡°And know that your services will no longer be required at this gate.¡±

    The female guard strode toward the door, pausing it open as she stepped in the doorway. ¡°You¡¯ll be dealing with me now, so don¡¯t expect any more of these ridiculous benefits,¡± she added curtly before slamming the door behind her.

    For a long moment, silence blanketed the room. Rose stood still, her gaze fixed on the closed door. Her lips parted slightly, and she murmured, almost inaudibly, ¡°I¡¯m not a prostitute.¡± The words felt hollow, slipping into the empty space like a forgotten whisper. But no one was left to hear her.

    Her chest rose and fell erratically, exhaustion making her breath shallow. She swayed slightly, the room tilting as a strange bubble of laughter welled up inside her. It escaped, soft at first, then louder, echoing in the small, barren room.

    She clutched her side, her injured hand trembling, sending fresh jolts of pain radiating up her arm. Tears pricked her eyes¡ªnot from the pain, but from the absurdity of it all. She bent down, awkwardly fumbling with her clothes, her movements clumsy as she tried to dress with her broken hand. The giggles came in fits, slipping out unbidden, on a line between laughing and sobbing, shaking her even as she tried to suppress them.

    ¡°Okay,¡± she muttered to herself, her voice rough and uneven. ¡°Sure, I was mistaken for a prostitute, but¡­¡± Her words faltered, and a wry, almost bitter smile ghosted across her lips. ¡°There¡¯s a female guard. One with actual power.¡±

    That realization felt¡­ strange. Ricaut might be cold, rude, and callous, but if she could end the harassment, she would welcome the bitch with open arms. The laughter ebbed as she pulled on her cloak, notes of joy could be heard in it this time. ¡°Maybe,¡± she murmured with a faint smile, steeling herself as she opened the door. ¡°Today isn¡¯t so bad after all.¡± a simple was on her face as she left the room.

    The moment she stepped out her injured hand brushed the door frame, a sharp jolt of agony shot through her arm, and she hissed, sucking air through gritted teeth. ¡°Okay, today¡¯s miserable,¡± she spat under her breath. ¡°But at least it can''t get any worse. Can it?¡±

    As she reached the guard sitting at a table by the door, he gave her a knowing smirk. ¡°Morning, Rose. How¡¯s Albert?¡±

    Her jaw tightened, but she forced a smile. ¡°Same as always,¡± she replied, her voice level. Mentally flipping him, and everyone else that wore that damn uniform, off.

    The cool air outside hit her like a slap, sharp and bracing. It swept away the stale, oppressive smell of the room, and for a brief moment, she felt the smallest hint of relief. She inhaled deeply, savoring the crispness, as her eyes adjective to the disorienting brightness. Yet, her vision blurred as she exhaled and her knees wobbled slightly. She blinked hard, shaking her head to clear the fog.

    Everything sharpened again and for a moment the only thing that bothered her was the exhaustion, but she could sleep after. ¡°I''m sure the bed is nice and warm right now.¡± she muttered, strapping ahead. Her body ached with every step, her hand throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She had to make it back to work. Because no matter how bad today felt, it wasn¡¯t like she had the luxury of resting.

    She had to keep going, just a little longer.

    Just a little bit more.

    Soon.

 Chapter 20 - Writing in Blood

    Rose left the checkpoint, her steps slow and deliberate, requiring more focus than usual. Her body felt heavy, each movement taking conscious effort. She¡¯d have to sneak a nap at work and hope Felix Silvio¡ªher ever-absent boss¡ªwas true to form today. Sleeping after being late would definitely get her fired, but that wasn¡¯t something she could worry about right now. Her eyes were too heavy and her legs felt like they were led. For now, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, her mind clouded by fatigue and pain.

    The Archekaas¨¨ loomed ahead, an imposing structure of cut stone that seemed to rise out of the ground like a fortress. Paid for by public funds, it lacked the elegance of marble or the charm of brick. It didn¡¯t have any windows¡ªor at least, none that were recognizable as such or could be seen. The building felt more intimidating than inviting, the idea of beauty long abandoned in favor of practicality. Its only attempt at decoration was to avoid lowering the aesthetic of the square where it rested. Not that bushes and trees helped distract from the massive thing.

    Circling the building, Rose made her way to the employee entrance tucked along the side. There, she paused, leaning against the cool stone wall as she fished through her bag for the key. The coolness soothed the heat radiating from her body. She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest against the wall, her heavy eyelids drooping.

    Her body sagged, and for a brief moment, the pull of sleep threatened to overtake her. With a jolt, she forced her eyes open wide. Quickly, she shook her head vigorously, chasing away the last remnants of sleep.

    After a few deep breaths, she resumed her search and finally pulled out the small iron key. Her movements were clumsy as she tried to fit it into the keyhole with her off hand. The metal slipped and scraped at odd angles, stubbornly refusing to align. Frustration bubbled up, and she muttered a low curse under her breath.

    Eventually, with a soft click, the lock gave way. Rose let out a weary sigh of relief and slipped inside, carefully closing the door behind her. The dim interior welcomed her into the storage area-turned-break room. It was small but orderly, thanks to her relentless efforts.

    Rose rummaged through the boxes until she found one containing fabric scraps. She pulled out a few pieces and chose one that was somewhat clean to wrap around her injured hand. She cursed softly as the pain throbbed, but the wound was still bleeding slightly, and she needed to work with books. Felix wouldn¡¯t just fire her if she bled on one¡ªhe¡¯d kill her.

    It took some time, but she managed to fashion a decent makeshift bandage.

    Next, she changed into her uniform before turning toward a basin of water in the corner. Kneeling, she dunked her bloodied dress into the icy water, the chill sending a sharp jolt through her fingers. She  watched as the red swirled in the murky water.

    She knew the blood wouldn¡¯t come out completely. It didn¡¯t matter; the water was dirty anyway¡ªshe hadn¡¯t yet refilled it. Another task she needed to do. Still, she could spare a little bit of the dress.

    ¡°Could¡¯ve been worse,¡± she muttered to herself, the words barely above a whisper.

    A voice cut through her reverie, sharp and impatient. ¡°So you are alive.¡±

    Rose jumped, nearly dropping the dress back into the basin. Her heart raced as she turned to find Felix standing in the doorway of the adjoining red-walled room, his arms tightly folded across his chest. His expression radiated thinly veiled irritation. She scampered to her feet.

    ¡°So much time has passed,¡± he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, ¡°I was half expecting to find your corpse in the street. You know, if I¡¯d bothered to look on my way home.¡±

    Rose inhaled deeply. ¡°Forgive me,¡± she said, bowing her head slightly. Her voice was steady, though her pulse thrummed in her ears. ¡°There was an issue at the inspection gate.¡±

    Felix rolled his eyes, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah, I heard about that.¡±

    His words made her blink in surprise. ¡°You¡­ heard about it?¡±

    He nodded, his expression twisting into a sneer. ¡°Yeah, Count Ricaut gives his daughter far too much leeway. He placed that little brat in a posting to keep her out of the way and out of harm¡¯s reach so she could play soldier. But seriously¡ªa female guard? What stupidity.¡± He waved a hand dismissively, muttering to himself before fixing his gaze back on her. His eyes flicked to her wet dress, frowning.

    Rose opened her mouth to say something¡ªanything¡ªbut his heavy sigh punctuated the air as he waved her off. ¡°Just try to be on time from now on. Leave early if you have to¡ªI don¡¯t care.¡±

    She blinked, momentarily stunned by his unexpected leniency. Felix never missed an opportunity to berate her or dock her pay for circumstances well beyond her control. It was why she needed a loan in the first place. Yet here he was, dismissing the issue with what almost felt like understanding.

    She wanted to tell him that Ricaut¡¯s presence might actually make things easier for her¡ªthat it could mean an end to the usual harassment. But she held her tongue. It wasn¡¯t worth burning the free pass she had just been handed.

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she said finally, bowing her head again.

    ¡°Need a rush order on Grand Rites of Passage by Lamar Toto,¡± Felix barked, his sharp voice cutting through her thoughts. ¡°A courrain came from Count Ricaut¡¯s estate with a rush request. I¡¯m charging them three times the price, so get it done quick, get it done clean, and get it done today.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    He turned to leave, but Rose called after him, the words spilling out before she could stop herself. ¡°But I still have to finish Segway¡¯s Price of Passage, and the Banovi? Commerce Guild still needs their book rebound¡ª¡±

    Her boss spun on his heel, his glare piercing. ¡°Ignore it. Your only priority right now is that rush order.¡±

    Rose blinked, stunned. ¡°But¡­ but it¡¯s over 500 pages,¡± she stammered, her voice faltering. There was also the fact that if she did what he asked, he would undoubtedly scold her later for failing to meet the other deadlines due today. She wanted to plead her case, to explain why this was impossible, but what was the point?

    ¡°Get it done,¡± he snapped before slamming the door shut behind him.

    The silence that followed was deafening, pressing against her temples like a vise. Rose shook her head, muttering bitterly to herself. ¡°If I just had time, I could¡¯ve made a printing press...¡±

    The thought was a fleeting fantasy, abruptly cut short by a sudden, sharp pain.

    Rose cried out softly, clutching her head as laughter bubbled up again, echoing in the quiet room. The sound startled even her, its edge bitter and sharp. Her injured hand instinctively moved to soothe the throbbing ache at her temple, but the pressure only made the pain worse. She winced, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. Everything felt heavier now¡ªher body, her spirit, and the insurmountable task looming ahead.

    ¡°Looks like I can¡¯t take that nap,¡± she muttered, voicing her disappointment as she forced herself to stand. Soon. She repeated the word in her mind like a mantra. Everything would be better¡­ soon. She just needed to keep up for now. Hold on until then. Her legs felt like lead, but she managed to hang the dress to dry, her movements slow and unsteady.

    ¡°And of course, there¡¯s this,¡± she muttered bitterly, looking down at her poorly bandaged hand. She only had her non-dominant hand working today. Yet somehow, she was expected to copy over 531 pages of text in a single day.

    Biting her lip, Rose turned toward the small slit of a window on the far wall. Pale, filtered light trickled through an opening barely enough to allow a breeze. She stared at it for a long moment. Then, with a resolute shake of her head, she turned to face her task.

    The Scriptoriaire was a few doors down¡ªa hallway to the first, then the second door to the room itself. It was here that the pleasant scent of paper filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of wet ink. The room¡¯s light came through a special magical lens, producing a light gentle enough not to damage the books. The irony was that this magical light could sometimes feel a bit too bright.

    The book her boss had assigned lay waiting on the main work desk, its thick, cracked leather cover seeming to mock her. In the fractured patterns, she could almost imagine a face laughing at her. She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to clear her sight. From the face in the book to the spots in her vision. It didn¡¯t work, but she refused to let her heart hammer this rapidly in fear of a long-dead cow.

    She opened her eyes, the face was gone but her heart still hammered away. She clicked her tongue while getting to work. Hoping it would distract her. She stepped closer, her eyes scanning the materials her boss had laid out: stacks of blank paper, an inkpot, a quill. It was a rare gesture for him to set up anything in advance, but even that faint kindness did little to ease her burden. It just meant that this was important.

    Rose¡¯s gaze shifted back to her hand. The bleeding had stopped, but the makeshift bandage was already discolored, and the dull, constant throb of pain reminded her that the worst was yet to come. She flexed her fingers experimentally and winced. There was no way she could write with her left hand¡ªit would be illegible at best.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she hissed, the word slipping out before she could stop it. Her voice sounded small in the stillness, swallowed by the oppressive quiet.

    Taking a shaky breath, she prepared herself as she grabbed a rather large quill with her other hand. Then with a nod, she bent her broken finger. A searing fire shot through her hand, stealing her breath for a moment as she adjusted to the pain. She clutched the edge of the table for support, nausea rising in her stomach.

    She fumbled for the bandage she¡¯d hastily tied around her hand earlier. Her fingers trembled as she worked, tying the quill to her broken hand with clumsy, jerky movements. The setup was pitiful, and the hopelessness of it all gnawed at her resolve. But it was the only option she had. She couldn¡¯t afford to ask for understanding¡ªher boss wouldn¡¯t grant it. Her only choice was to push through, no matter how much it hurt.

    Besides, it was only a little bit longer, soon.

    Soon.

    Soon.

    ¡°Soon!¡± she cried out as she finished tying the makeshift contraption. Tears streamed down her face, and she let them fall freely. Finally, the bandage was secured. She exhaled, releasing the air she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d been holding. The strain eased just enough to make the pulsing pain somewhat bearable.

    ¡°And that was just the start,¡± she murmured, a bubble of laughter escaping her lips. It was bitter, hollow, as she wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to rub away the fuzziness clouding her vision. ¡°Leave early if you have to,¡± she mocked, mimicking her boss¡¯s gruff tone. ¡°Like I have such a luxury.¡± She laughed again, though she knew the joke wasn¡¯t funny. She wasn''t even sure if it was a joke.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not going to write itself,¡± she muttered, turning her attention to her work. She opened the book before pulling a large, blank sheet of paper, placing it before her. For a brief moment, she allowed herself a fleeting, bitter smile at the absurdity of the situation. Maybe if she blamed Ricaut for her broken hand, her boss would let it slide.

    The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. Not likely, she thought grimly. He¡¯d never allow me a reprieve. She shook her head, no I mean what am I thinking? I cant blame others, especially when they could help.

    With a resigned sigh, she dipped the quill into the inkwell. The quiet plink of the nib broke the heavy silence. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she hesitated before pressing it to the page and began to write.

    Each stroke was agony. The pain radiated from her hand, pulsing with every careful movement, threatening to undo her. Every letter she managed to form felt like a small victory, but the excruciatingly slow pace was a cruel reminder of how far she still had to go. The task was unrelenting, and the endless blank pages loomed before her like a mountain she could never hope to climb.

 Chapter 21 - Binding A Book

    Only God knew how she¡¯d managed to complete the entire book. Sure, she¡¯d taken more liberties with this one than usual, but then again, Lamar Toto was a wordy bastard who stuffed his books with more fluff than an air-dried Furby. She doubted anyone would notice¡ªor care. The larger font, necessitated by her clumsy, injured hand, ensured the page count remained the same. It also helped that she lost feeling in the hand halfway through.

    Felix would never find out about it, and as for the noble receiving the book? She highly doubted they¡¯d bother to read it. Even if they did, she hadn¡¯t left anything important out. She¡¯d just edited it a little. Still, she should probably not stamp it with her Eid number. Sure she was the only one working here but at least she would have something to say.

    Rose put the final page into place, normally she would have to delicately level every page on the glue fabric, but this was a rush order, so she only had to get it mostly right. Closing the soon to be bound book she took a small round metal bit, the words, Archekaas¨¨ d¨² Marchenne were outlined before an image of an open book. It was a little on the nose for her, but what else could she expect the symbols of the city library to be?

    Normally, it would take days for a book to dry, be properly pressed, and set. But rush orders came with rush magic. Literal magic, that is.

    In the corner of the room rested a special book press. Much like the Myst¨¦lave, this press could manipulate everything that bound a book¡ªeven lining up the pages perfectly. The device manipulated time, or baked the pages quickly, or something that took a seven day project and turned it into a seven minute task. Whatever it did, it worked flawlessly.

    Much like the Myst¨¦lave, she didn¡¯t entirely understand how it worked¡ªand honestly, she didn¡¯t care. She was almost done, and soon enough, she could go home.

    With a groan, she lifted herself off the chair, taking a moment to steady herself and waited for the room to stop spinning. When it did just enough, She took the book in her good hand. Its weight was terrible, not heavy, but not light either. It was a bit of a struggle, especially since she was so tired every step felt weighty, but she managed to carry it to the press.

    Carefully, she placed it on the golden square on top of the machine, ensuring it was in the middle, and not a hair off. Then pushed a small button on the side. A whirring sound filled the air. Rose always tried to tune this out¡ªit ruined the magic to hear such a mechanical noise coming from a device that''s supposed to be magical.

    While the press lowered the book into place, she turned to fetch the cover: a ridiculously heavy iron slab that needed to be placed on top. Without it, terrible things could happen. Or so her boss said, but he said a lot of things.

    It sounded like something straight out of a horror novel, and Rose wasn¡¯t eager to test the theory, even if she knew she was in a romance novel. With a grunt, she struggled to lift the heavy lid and maneuvered it onto the press. The moment she could let go, she exhaled sharply. ¡°Seriously, you¡¯ve got the book sinking down¡ªwhy does the cover have to come separately?¡±

    As she complained, an indicator light shifted from red to green. She jabbed at the ¡®on¡¯ button with her thumb, pushing it harder than necessary in her frustration. A soft laugh escaped her lips as the effort hurt her more than the machine.

    Flexing her thumb a few times, she realized it was bleeding¡ªthe nail had bent, cutting the skin underneath. ¡°This just isn¡¯t my day, is it?¡± she scoffed. The machine responded with a low hum, as if to mock her and Rose couldn''t help but give it a glare even if she knew the sound was just it working.

    With some time to spare, Rose slumped back into her chair, leaning over the table. She rested her hands on its surface, then slowly slid down, resting her head against the cold, unwelcoming wood. The pain in her hand had dulled, and the soft noise of the machine lulled her. She only meant to blink away the blurriness clouding her vision, but soon enough, her eyes drifted shut.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Her brief peace shattered with a loud buzz from the machine. Rose snapped her eyes open and bolted upright, her head whipping around. ¡°Where¡­?¡± she muttered, blinking as she took in her surroundings. ¡°The Scriptoriaire¡­ ah, right.¡±

    Shakily, she stood, using the table for support as she made her way to the press. Her eyes landed on the iron cover with disdain. ¡°You know,¡± she muttered, glancing around. ¡°Fuck it.¡±

    Instead of lifting the lid, she gripped it and shoved it off with all her might. The iron protested with a harsh scraping noise before crashing to the floor. The weight nearly dragged her down with it, grinning as the harsh crash echoed through the room. The sound was oddly satisfying. ¡°Been wanting to do that for years.¡± she said, satisfied.

    In a lighter mood, she pressed the button to lift the book out of the press. As the machine whirred in response, Rose glanced around, relieved that Felix wasn¡¯t nearby to hear the crash. She couldn¡¯t afford to replace a broken machine¡ªlet alone dream of owning a specialized device like this.

    When the press finished its work, the book rested neatly on the golden square, pristine and waiting. Just before Rose could move there was a victorious hiss and a click, the machine opened a component on the side, revealing the rather large ¨¦nerciel that powered it. The device wouldn''t be able to be used again until the battery was charged. The reason they never used this unless they had to.

    Rose stepped forward, her fingers brushing against the warm, smooth leather binding. The book emerged perfect, as always. Polished, seamless, flawless. The machine never disappointed, but she still needed to inspect it¡ªjust to be sure.

    Removing the metal bit on top of the cover she found the library¡¯s logo was pressed inside neatly on the corner. Tossing it to the table she picked up the book, bringing it closer to her eyes, scanning the cover, the seams, the binding. Running her fingers along the spine, she tested the glue, then flipped through the pages to check their alignment. Once again, everything was immaculate.

    ¡°The glue is glued, the seams are seamed, and the sea is¡­ sewn,¡± she murmured with a small chuckle, amused by the flub she pushed out. ¡°Sea? What Sea, I don''t See Anything.¡± Letting out another chuckle she tucked the book under her arm and patted the machine lightly. ¡°Good job, you magical little thing. Ah, if only I had money.¡± What would I do with a book press? Press books, of course. ¡°Oh, I wonder if it could do clothes?¡±

    ¡°Anyways, let¡¯s get out of here,¡± she muttered to herself, ¡°Sleep is just through the door and over the floor,¡± She sang as she headed for the door. ¡°Drop off the book to get off the hook, Walk all the way home so you can crawl in your bed alone, alone again and again.¡± With that she left the Scriptoriaire, book in hand.

    Her steps were silent against the chilly stone floor as she moved through the narrow corridors toward the main library. ¡°Of course, I still need to change out of this,¡± she grumbled, glancing down at her work attire. She couldn¡¯t even keep the dress¡ªit wasn¡¯t hers to begin with. Changing was difficult now¡­ perhaps she would be able to get away with her overdress in the dark that was to come? It was cold, sure, but she was so tired.

    She pushed open the doors that lead to the main hall, stepping inside the dim, expansive room. The warm glow of magical lights lined the walls, flickering like torches in a castle. Despite their charm, they felt dim and unwelcoming, nothing like the bright, practical lights of the Scriptoriaire.

    Rose often wondered about this contrast. Were the Scriptoriaire¡¯s lights expensive? Or were these just cheap? She knew her boss was, but she doubted she¡¯d ever get an answer. ¡°Not that I care,¡± she said with a roll of her eyes.

    The flickering lights illuminated towering shelves packed with tomes that lined the entryway. Twenty-four shelves stood in neat rows, each holding roughly a hundred books, depending on their size. By most standards, 2,400 books wasn¡¯t much for a library¡ªbut this was only the main floor. There was storage in the back for books that would never see the light of day, as well as private rooms for the nobles. Those rooms were rarely used, and might as well not exist at all. But Rose did manage to sneak a nap inside them every now and then so she wouldn''t argue.

    Not that anyone would listen.

    Rose approached the librarian¡¯s desk, intent on dropping the book into the bin beneath it, but her eyes landed on Felix. Her lips tightened as their gazes met, and he waved her over, before turning back to the shadow of a man standing beside him. She cursed softly under her breath, irritation bubbling up.

 Chapter 22 - Fernand Elouan ValÃ¨re

    Rose could just leave, go home and pretend she hadn¡¯t seen him. But she couldn¡¯t do that, could she? He¡¯d probably run after her and make everything worse. She cursed under her breath.

    What is he doing here? she wondered. Shouldn¡¯t he be hiding in his office, complaining about his life?

    At first, she liked Felix. He had seemed like an actual gentleman¡ªor at least he hadn¡¯t harassed her. He¡¯d even given her a job. But over time, his true nature made it hard to work for the man, especially when he wouldn''t stop complaining about his life to her. her. If he weren¡¯t such a miserable boss, she might have given him a piece of her mind.

    With a sigh she shook her head, the action making her head a little dizzy. The best course of action was to go with it. It was always to go with it. ¡°Cant step out of line, that would be the end of your time.¡± she chuckled miserably as she started walking over to them.

    He wasn¡¯t alone. As she grew closer she saw who it was, her eyes widening in surprise. Beside him stood a nobleman¡ªand not just any nobleman. The man¡¯s rich, reddish-blonde hair was cut and styled meticulously, and his gentle blue eyes twinkled like the midnight sun in the warm light. His face, handsome enough to draw attention wherever he went, was unmistakable. This was Fernand ¨¦louan Val¨¨re, the city lord.

    You could tell how important he was just by his long name¡ªa name she¡¯d been forced to memorize when she started working here, along with those of other notable counts who occasionally graced the city with their presence: Milan Eug¨¨ne L¨¦onide, ¨¦meric Florian Normand, and Micha?l Yanick Fabien Lazare. She knew their names, brief descriptions, and one critical rule: if she ever saw any of them, she was to run to Felix and inform him immediately. So far, her average distance traveled in such instances was zero feet and zero inches.

    She plastered a smile onto her face and bowed as low as her stiff back allowed. ¡°Warmest greetings, Fernand ¨¦louan Val¨¨re. This humble assistant of the library offers her greatest respects to Your Grace.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you know who I am?¡± His voice, smooth and self-assured, came from above as Rose remained bent, waiting for permission to rise.

    Rose chewed her lip. Here, at the gate, at home¡ªeverywhere she went she could only bow and scream internally. Her body trembled as she fought to keep herself from laughing bitterly. ¡°Of course, Your Grace. You are the Count of Val¨¨re, as well as the owner of this wonderful city.¡± Rose managed to say with an even tone.

    Now send me away so I can leave, bastard, she spat silently. This so-called ¡®humble assistant¡¯ hadn¡¯t slept properly in days. Soon, she¡¯d get some proper rest¡ªsleep in as long as she wanted and blame Lady Ricaut when she arrived late. Felix would love that, wouldn¡¯t he? Bastard.

    ¡°I see. It¡¯s so rare these days to find proper manners, what with the movement and all,¡± Count Val¨¨re remarked.

    Yeah, well, step on people enough and they fight back. A broken finger will mend, Rose thought, glancing briefly at her own hand resting over her stomach. Her finger felt numb now, both hands did. Honestly, it was a welcome reprieve.

    ¡°Rose here is our best,¡± Felix chimed in, his voice dripping with false pride. ¡°A true model employee.¡±

    Yeah, well, if the choice is between you and me, of course I¡¯d win. Rose took the opportunity to make a face, safely hidden beneath her hair as she remained lowered in a bow.

    ¡°See what I mean?¡± Count Val¨¨re said, a faint smile playing at his lips. ¡°Even those who would be noble fail to properly address others. Ah, but where are my manners? Forgive me for playing the fool. Please, rise, Lady Rose. This lord of Marchenne accepts your graceful greeting and is gladdened to receive it.¡±

    Finally! Rose thought as she straightened up, she caught Felix rubbing his hands as if trying to wash away a bruised ego. Why are you glaring at me like that? You called me over.

    ¡°Miss Rose, Your Grace,¡± Felix interjected quickly, as though correcting the nobleman might save his image somehow. ¡°Hiring good help is hard these days, and we¡¯ve been stretched thin trying to find quality assistance.¡±

    Rose clenched her teeth, the strain of maintaining her composure making her jaw ache. Hired one person to manage an entire library, she thought bitterly. Good help isn¡¯t hard to find. Good managers? Now that¡¯s a miracle. She bit her tongue to stifle a laugh, her breath hitching and her nostrils flaring slightly as the fit passed in her stomach.

    ¡°Quite right,¡± Lord Val¨¨re said, nodding in agreement. His gaze returned to Rose, and he offered an apologetic smile. ¡°Forgive me, Miss Rose. It seems I mistakenly elevated your rank. I hope you¡¯re not insulted.¡±

    Rose returned a tight smile and inclined her head slightly. ¡°It¡¯s no problem, Your Grace. I¡¯m just happy you remembered my name.¡±

    She hesitated for a moment, deciding she was too tired to care. ¡°I apologize for the intrusion, but I felt it necessary to inform you that the book is complete.¡± She extended the finished tome to Felix. Now take it and send me home.

    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Felix said, accepting the book with a flourish. He inspected the binding, running his fingers along the spine before flipping through a few pages with exaggerated care. ¡°Marvelous job,¡± he declared with a nod of approval. ¡°Excellent work.¡±

    Turning to Count Val¨¨re, he added with a smug smile, ¡°As I said, Miss Rose here is one of our most reliable workers. She even managed to perfect a rush order beautifully.¡± He presented the book for the Count¡¯s examination.

    Only employee, Rose thought, her fingers tightening around the hem of her sleeve. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from voicing it. Come on, dismiss me. I just want to sleep¡ªbut not forever.

    Although¡­ her thoughts wavered for a moment. Leaving a conversation with a count without permission? That¡¯d let me sleep forever¡­ doesn¡¯t sound so bad right now, does it?

    Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Felix handed the book back to her without warning. She scrambled to catch it, the weight of it thudding into her stomach as she had some difficulty grabbing it with both of her numb hands.

    ¡°How wonderful,¡± Lord Val¨¨re said lightly, his interest seemingly piqued. ¡°I was just telling the Baron that I¡¯m looking for a skilled transcriber. Tell me, Miss Rose, do you understand the Corian language?¡±

    ¡°The Corian language?¡± she repeated, her brow furrowing. She glanced at Felix for guidance. He responded with a few sharp, encouraging nods. Yeah, yeah, fuck you too.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe I do,¡± she continued, ¡°but I should be able to transcribe it without any issue, as long as translation isn¡¯t required. Otherwise, I¡¯d need a translator, and the work would take considerably more time.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Count Val¨¨re let out a soft chuckle, ¡°A lovely idea, but the Corian language isn¡¯t composed of words¡ªit¡¯s more akin to paintings.¡± His tone shifted, growing slightly dismissive. ¡°Cultists for sure, no doubt.¡± He nodded at his own words before continuing with a dramatic flourish of his hand. ¡°But! We have an opportunity here¡ªan opportunity to reopen diplomatic relations.¡±

    Rose blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Diplomatic relations?¡± she echoed, then, realizing her slip, quickly added, ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be a problem, but I would need to see the book to be sure.¡± Hopefully, he won¡¯t be annoyed I tried to direct the conversation. She thought, holding her breath.  Nobles were all about having their questions answered and keeping quiet otherwise.

    Count Val¨¨re seized the moment, clearly eager to elaborate. ¡°Ah, wonderful, but of course. What was I thinking? Why would someone of your lowly station know about politics?¡±

    His tone lacked malice but was steeped in casual, self-assured condescension. While Rose knew he didn¡¯t mean to insult her, the remark still stoked the irritation throbbing in her head. All she could do was mash her teeth together and remain silent.

    Nothing new. Nothing new. Nothing new.

    Count Val¨¨re carried on, oblivious to the subtle shift in Rose¡¯s heavily bagged eyes. ¡°Tensions between nations have been rising ever since the Empire was declared. They¡¯ve been aggressive¡ªviciously so¡ªin expanding their territory and attacking their neighbors whenever possible. Diplomacy has been the only thing keeping them in check. None of us would allow such a country to do as it pleases.¡±

    He gave a small shrug. ¡°But our hands are tied on both ends. The Empire won¡¯t attack directly, lest it incur everyone¡¯s wrath. It¡¯s not strong enough for that, but it is growing.¡± he scoffed. ¡°Though it''s doubtful that it would ever threaten us.¡±

    Yeah right, the Empire will threaten the kingdom soon enough, Rose thought bitterly, biting her tongue to keep from saying anything aloud. And it won¡¯t help when the royal family is exposed as frauds, leading the kingdom into a civil war at a critical moment¡ªor whatever. The point is that my poor Dahlia will make a grave sacrifice to keep the nation together.

    The thought of Dahlia¡¯s future calmed her, or at least slumped her shoulders as annoyance was replaced by mild grief. The miserable girl would suffer a lot as the heroine but at least she had plot armor. Rose blinked heavily at the thought, her eyes were just so heavy. Dahlia¡¯s actions would name her saint, and rally everyone to the Duke, with the royal family abandoned or whatever they will focus on the empire, killing the Emperor and causing the Empire to fracture and ending it before it can solidify. The kingdom will expand in the Duke¡¯s name, claiming it¡¯s all for finding a cure for the Saint.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Count Val¨¨re¡¯s sharp inflection on the word jolted Rose, pulling her drifting thoughts back to the present. She opened her eyes to refocus.

    ¡°Suffice it to say, we are in a strong position to defend ourselves,¡± Val¨¨re continued. ¡°However, it would be prudent to have an old ally return to our side.¡± He paused, his tone softening as he went on. ¡°My family has been in possession of a very old prayer book¡ªa paperweight to us, but a holy relic to the Corians. Offering it to them is the final act of goodwill that will reopen relations completely.¡±

    He smiled, sweeping his hand through the air as if erasing the past. ¡°Finally allowing us all to leave that whole incident behind.¡±

    ¡°Very good, Your Grace,¡± Felix chimed in obsequiously, ¡°only you could think of something so clever.¡±

    Rose blinked, trying to push through the haze clouding her thoughts. Corians? She couldn¡¯t recall anything about a Corian nation from the story¡ªor maybe she just couldn¡¯t remember right now. All she could focus on was keeping her eyes open.

    ¡°So,¡± she said slowly, testing her words, ¡°you wish to have this prayer book transcribed to preserve a copy while keeping the original intact?¡±

    Felix shot her a glare, his face turning an alarming shade of red. Before he could say anything, Count Val¨¨re scoffed, dismissing the tension with a wave of his hand.

    ¡°Nothing would give me more pleasure than to throw it out,¡± he said. ¡°But, as I mentioned, it¡¯s an old gift to my family from the Zhihao family. It does have historical significance between our two lineages¡ªeven if it is¡­ heresy.¡±

    He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of an unpleasant thought. ¡°Still, I can¡¯t ignore the opportunity. This could be a chance to reunite our kingdoms. Trade, military strength, and cultural exchange¡ªall worth the price of losing an ancestral relic. And perhaps,¡± he added with a faint smile, ¡°we could save more than a few of those poor souls from the Inf¨¦r. I could handle the backlash easily enough. However¡­¡±

    His words trailed off, hanging in the air like a challenge.

    Felix moved to speak, his eagerness palpable, but Count Val¨¨re raised a hand to silence him. His attention shifted back to Rose, his expression inviting her thoughts.

    Rose considered his words, the wheels in her mind turning painfully slow.

    ¡°You could argue that the original is too delicate to be moved if they ask,¡± she said with a shrug. ¡°Say the copy was made from a faithful reproduction of the original. That way, giving them the copy won¡¯t be seen as an insult, even if they discover the truth later. It could also work in your favor¡ªan invitation to view the original might pave the way for diplomats to meet in your domain.¡±

    Silence hung between them. Felix gave her another angry glare, but Rose barely registered it, her irritation outweighing his. He could have just let me put the book down and go home. But no¡ªhe forced me to meet a noble. Not just any noble, but the lord of the city. What the hell was he thinking?

    Count Val¨¨re chuckled, breaking the tense quiet. ¡°An interesting idea. Quite right, too.¡± He leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as though examining her more closely. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what did you say your name was?¡±

    Rose blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Her gaze flickered between Felix and Count Val¨¨re before she answered, ¡°My name is Rose.¡±

    ¡°Just Rose?¡± he asked, one eyebrow arching in curiosity.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied, her tone calm but firm. ¡°I was born in a village far from here. Uh¡­ S-Sayotheo.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Count Val¨¨re nodded slowly, studying her like an intriguing puzzle. ¡°Sayotheo, you say. I heard about what happened there. Awful tragedy. However, it¡¯s our gain, it would seem. You appear exceptionally intelligent for someone that comes from a village.¡±

    Rose froze, her breath catching in her throat. Our gain? That¡¯s how you deal with the loss of an entire village? Shrug it off and smile at the fact you gained something?

    Her chest tightened as she tried to swallow the mix of emotions roiling inside her. It didn¡¯t matter if she impressed him¡ªIf she did something, said anything, it was the same story. Over and over again. But another thought needled at her: What does he know about what happened? What Acker said about Iris being lost to the Myst¡­ it keeps playing in my head, over and over.

    Before she resolved herself to ask, Felix jumped in, seizing the opportunity the silence brought to insert himself into the conversation.

    ¡°She has a brilliant mind, my lord. Thanks to her work in the library, she¡¯s far more knowledgeable than your average commoner. Honestly, we¡¯re lucky to have her.¡±

    Rose glanced at him, her expression unreadable. Lucky to have me? The compliment felt sickening, wrong, unnatural. She wanted so desperately to wash that mouth out with soap.

    Count Val¨¨re gave a slow nod, his expression carefully neutral. ¡°So you say.¡±

    He paused, letting the words settle, before continuing. ¡°Then it would seem prudent that I receive two copies of the text. Baron Silvio,¡± he added, turning slightly to address Felix, ¡°if you could arrange for the necessary equipment to be delivered to my residence so Miss Rose can complete her work there, that would be ideal.¡±

    Felix stiffened, his tone suddenly defensive. ¡°It would probably be better for the work to be accomplished here, my lord, where the tools are already in place¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Lord Val¨¨re said, cutting him off smoothly. ¡°The book is rather fragile and can¡¯t be moved, just as the young Miss Rose already suggested.¡±

    He gave Rose a smile, causing her to blink, her mind stubbornly blank.

    ¡°So, I would much rather keep it safe in my own home. I¡¯m sure you can make the arrangements.¡±

    ¡°My lord¡ª¡± Felix began, but Lord Val¨¨re interrupted again, his tone firm and final.

    ¡°I¡¯ll double the payment,¡± he mused aloud, as though speaking to himself. ¡°After all, this will save me a great deal of time and effort¡ªnot to mention mitigating the political and social backlash. Although¡­¡± He tilted his head slightly, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge. ¡°The church won¡¯t like this, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode away, his boots clicking sharply against the floor.

    Felix hastily bowed, and Rose belatedly realized what was happening, following his example.

    ¡°Very good, Your Grace. I¡¯ll see that it¡¯s done,¡± Felix called after him.

 Chapter 23 - The Frayed Edges of a Rose

    Rising slowly, Rose handed her finished work to her employer. ¡°Here¡¯s the book you requested,¡± she said, extending it toward him.

    Felix snatched it from her hands, his gaze narrowing. ¡°Why are you running your mouth off to a noble?¡± he snapped.

    The force of his tone made Rose instinctively take a step back, her shoulders tensing. ¡°I¡ªI just thought¡ª¡±

    ¡°If anyone has questions or requests, you direct them to me!¡± he barked, his voice echoing in the near-empty room. His scowl deepened, frustration boiling over. ¡°Do you even know what you just did?¡±

    Rose faltered, her mind scrambling for an answer. She glanced around the dimly lit library as if the dusty shelves might offer some clue, but she could only blink. Her head was completely flooded with fog. ¡°He doubled the payment?¡± She offered, uselessly.

    Felix let out a sharp, exasperated laugh, his tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Double the payment?¡± he repeated, louder this time. ¡°Do you have any idea who that was?¡± His fingers twitched as he gestured toward the door. ¡°That man is a city count. Anywhere else, people might not know or care, but here? He¡¯s a king in his own little kingdom! Do you understand the kind of revenue we could bring in if the city lord himself frequents our Archekaas¨¨?¡±

    Rose furrowed her brow, suppressing the urge to correct him. Archekaas¨¨, a city library made from royal degree? she thought bitterly. We¡¯re not a library. We¡¯re a glorified bookstore with a manager suffering from  delusions of grandeur. Still, she forced herself to nod, swallowing back her irritation. ¡°I understand,¡± she said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

    She was too tired for another argument, and her shift had ended hours ago. The sky outside had long since darkened, and while this district had streetlights, her¡¯s did not. All she wanted now was to get home safely. To sleep, to dream. Maybe then she could be happy.

    She bowed slightly and murmured, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lord Silvio.¡± She said, making sure to stroke his ego. ¡°I shall do better next time.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Felix sighed deeply, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. ¡°Still,¡± he muttered, half to himself, ¡°double is pretty good. Not as much as we would¡¯ve gotten if we could drop the count¡¯s name as a regular, but I guess it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    Rose nodded again, eager to leave. ¡°Right. Well, then, I should get going,¡± she said, stepping toward the door.

    But Felix¡¯s voice cut through the air. ¡°What happened to your hand?¡±

    Rose glanced down at the crude bandages wrapped tightly around her fingers and wrist.  She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure if an explanation would even matter and a little afraid about why he suddenly asked.

    ¡°Never mind,¡± Felix said dismissively, waving her off before she could form a sentence. His eyes flicked to her hand again, his lips curling in a faint grin. ¡°We can¡¯t have you visiting the count¡¯s man looking like that,¡± he muttered, his fingers drumming against his rounded belly. ¡°I suppose that means I¡¯ll have to complete the task myself,¡± he noted with a hint of smugness. ¡°Can¡¯t have you going there to mess it up. Don¡¯t worry about it¡ªI¡¯ll handle the count. Go home. Clean up. You¡¯re a mess.¡±

    ¡°Yes Lord Silvio.¡± Rose bowed again and turned, walking quickly to the back door. ¡°Go home, clean up, you¡¯re a mess,¡± she mocked under her breath, as she closed it behind her. Shaking her head, she raised her good hand and flipped him the finger as she turned on her heel and walked away.

    At her locker, she kicked the metal door lightly, the hollow clang echoing down the empty hallway. The small action did nothing to ease her simmering temper. ¡°Ungrateful bastard,¡± she muttered through clenched teeth. She leaned against the cold locker, her fingers rubbing at her temple as if to scratch away the persistent itch of frustration. ¡°I swear, this miserable, goddamn world.¡±

    Her voice trembled with anger as she slammed her fist against the locker. ¡°Fuck!¡± she yelled, her voice ricocheting off the walls. The sharp echo stung her ears, but she didn¡¯t care. She didn''t feel a thing, her entire body was numb making the fit very unsatisfying. Still, she hit it a few more times before venting her frustration before resting her forehead against the cold metal.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± she repeated, softly this time. However at its release she was able to move again, focusing on changing out of her work clothes, and into her own dress so she could leave this miserable place.

    That was another battle entirely. The dress was still damp and clung stubbornly to every little thing, the buttons refused to slide through their holes, and even the fabric seemed to conspire against her. She didn''t know if she was laughing or crying but even her own voice was grating her last nerves.

    She had to stop halfway, forcing herself to take several deep breaths to calm down. The cool air filled her lungs, steadying her hands just enough to finish. Still, she sat there long after, head in her hands as she cried.

 Chapter 24 - Dancing Shadows

    Guided by a row of lights hovering 15 feet above the ground, Rose soon made her way to a familiar gate. Its heavy iron bars of the closed gate caught the faint glimmer of the magical light in the stillness of the new night. At least the night shift guards weren¡¯t as insufferable as the daytime ones. This lot, mostly fresh recruits, were just starting off, forced to work nights as punishment for signing up with the guard.

    The guards barely glanced at her as she approached, their postures slouched with boredom. Passing through this checkpoint was always uneventful especially because she was leaving the district. Still there were procedures to be followed. She showed her tag, and the nearest guard waved her over, tapping the same door she used before. It opened and the guard inside led her though without any problem. Something that should happen every time.

    The guard opened the door, letting her thought

    Beyond it the city transformed. There were no lights here, the twisting, narrow streets shrouded in darkness. Shadows clung to every corner, their shapes shifting dangerously. Rose fumbled in her pack, pulling out a travel lantern she bought when she thought she was rich.

    It was a cheap, practical thing¡ªan oil lantern designed for function, not beauty. It suited her needs perfectly. Magic lights might have been around the same price, perhaps a little more, but here, in this part of town, they¡¯d only draw attention she didn¡¯t want.

    Turning back to the guard at the gate, who was preparing to shut it, she raised the lantern slightly. ¡°Do you have a match?¡± she asked, her voice weary but firm.

    The guard paused, clicking his tongue. He was annoyed but they both knew he had nothing better to do. So, he fell back inside for a moment, pulling some straw from the padding of one of the chairs, then lit it by poking the torch inside. He returned to her and lit her lantern with the makeshift flame.

    Rose nodded ¡°Thanks.¡± she said as the warm light from the lantern flickering softly between them. Chasing away the shadows of the night.

    The guard shrugged, his voice rough as he said, ¡°Good luck,¡± before swinging the gate shut with a heavy clang.

    A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she turned and walked away. ¡°Good luck?¡± she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. ¡°Good luck... good luck... no luck. No luck at all.¡± The words spilled out like a chant, growing quieter as her steps carried her deeper into the dark streets.

    Her fingers tightened around the lantern¡¯s handle as her thoughts churned. Luck? she thought bitterly, the flickering light casting restless shadows around her, there form twisting in her own turmoil. ¡°That¡¯s the one thing I¡¯ve never had here, can''t have here.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    She pressed forward, the modest glow of her lantern barely pushing back the darkness. Somehow, despite its simplicity, it provided more light than it should¡ªthough that wasn¡¯t saying much.

    Her thoughts churned, the weight of her day pressing heavier with every stride. ¡°The only luck I¡¯ve had,¡± she muttered aloud, ¡°was stealing from a dead old woman.¡± A bitter snort escaped her lips. ¡°And even that didn''t help. Just delayed it, just delayed it all.¡±

    The sound of her own hollow laugh echoed in the empty streets as she moved deeper into the shadows of the city. ¡°That''s what I do isn''t it, just delay it all. Delay what¡¯s coming. Good luck!¡± she repeated mockingly, her voice rising into a sing-song tone. ¡°I don¡¯t need luck. Luck doesn¡¯t need me. She will be gone soon, so soon, so soon.¡± She giggled, a sound too high-pitched, too sharp, before dissolving into muttered nonsense.

    ¡°How long is it going to take the prince to issue that decree, huh?¡± she asked no one, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. ¡°Soon? Soon,¡± she hissed, then burst into a quiet, deranged laugh. ¡°The prince is four¡ªso soon. So soon. The prince is one more!¡± Her voice pitched into a strange sing-song rhythm, its melody known only to her. ¡°The only thing this is, is his mother. Her hair¡ªher hair!¡ªlike no other. So soon, so soon¡­ and soon the duke will save the day.¡±

    Her laughter twisted into a choked sob, the world was spinning out of control. The shadows dancing to the beat of her twisted song. Tears blurred her vision, and she stopped walking, pressing her palm hard into her face as if to wipe away the bitter ache clawing at her chest.

    ¡°It¡¯s almost done,¡± she told herself through gritted teeth, her voice trembling. ¡°Just a little longer. She¡¯ll be out of my hair, just a little longer.¡± The thought should have been comforting, but it wasn¡¯t. She shook her head, scoffing at her own naive optimism. ¡°Hell, I don¡¯t even have to come home.¡± she laughed again, walking once more. ¡°I could just sleep in that damn library. Isn¡¯t that something?¡± She let out a hollow laugh. ¡°Stay in the library, no rent to pay, forget about everything. Gone in a day, the noble manager won''t know anything still, he won''t even notice if all the books went missing.¡±

    Frustration bubbled over, and Rose gripped her hair tightly, yanking at the strands as if she could pull the madness from her head. Her breath hitched as she inhaled sharply, the cold air biting at her lungs. ¡°Almost,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible. ¡°We got this, Rose. You and me, we got this.¡±

    She forced herself to exhale slowly, releasing the tension knotted in her shoulders. The world was dancing around her and she knew she was on the verge of exhaustion, she needed to get home. After a few more steps, she repeated the breath, grounding herself with the simple act of breathing. Her eyes closed to keep the nausea from rising.

    Then she fell forward, catching herself with her hand as it fell on a wall, keeping her upright. With another long dragged out breath, she opened her eyes. Blinking, she realized she was standing in front of her door. Somehow, despite everything, she¡¯d made it home.

    Strengthening up she wobbled unsteadily but was doing alright. She was home. Just a few more steps to go. Taking the lantern in both hands, she twisted the knob at its base, cutting off the oxygen and extinguishing the flame. The sudden darkness was jarring, leaving her momentarily blind as she fumbled for the door handle.

    When she finally pulled it open, the soft, flickering light of candles greeted her, casting a warm, uneven glow across the small space. At the table sat Dahlia, her small frame slumped forward as she slept, clearly lost the battle to stay awake. The sight of her waiting sparked a flare of irritation in Rose. she scratched the side of her head as the ache pulsated, ¡°this damned child.¡±

 Chapter 25 - Quibble before the Dream

    Clicking her tongue in frustration, Rose shook her head and marched toward the small figure curled up on the couch. She leaned down and gently jostled the girl awake. ¡°Dahlia, how many times do I have to tell you? Don¡¯t wait for me,¡± she said, Her words came out harsher than she meant, the weariness and frustration of the day spilling out of her lips. ¡°You¡¯re a growing child. Go back to bed, now.¡±

    Dahlia startled awake, her wide, sleepy eyes darting toward Rose. For a fleeting moment, she looked uncertain, lost. But the expression quickly melted into a bright, innocent smile that made Rose¡¯s heart clench with guilt. And annoyance.

    ¡°Auntie Rose!¡± Dahlia cried joyfully, scrambling off the chair. She grabbed something from the table as she ran to Rose, holding out a small pouch with both hands. ¡°Look what I got!¡± she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement.

    Rose pinched the bridge of her nose, the dull throbbing headache starting again. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®look what you got?¡¯¡± she muttered, snatching the pouch from Dahlia¡¯s outstretched hands. She felt its weight shift, accompanied by the faint clink of metal. A sense of unease settled over her.

    She emptied the pouch into her palm, and her stomach turned when tin coins spilled out, glinting dully in the flickering candlelight. Rose quickly counted them, her brows knitting together. One, Two¡­Five. Her heart skipped a beat. Five coins.

    Her gaze snapped to Dahlia, her voice sharp. ¡°Where did you get this?¡± she demanded. ¡°Did you steal it? Tell me you didn¡¯t steal this!¡±

    Dahlia¡¯s expression crumpled, panic flickering in her wide eyes. Her small hands fidgeted nervously, twisting the hem of her oversized shirt. ¡°No, no, no! I earned it!¡± she stammered, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips, as if trying to reassure Rose.

    ¡°Earned it?¡± Rose echoed, her voice rising, disbelief threading through her words. She scratched at her head, the ache pulsating hard, faster. She needed to dig it out, but couldn''t quite get enough force behind her fingers. ¡°Earned it?¡±

    Dahlia stepped back, her smile faltering. ¡°Well,¡± she started hesitantly, her voice shrinking with every word, suddenly the girl seemed to be inaudible to look her aunt in the eye. ¡°I may not be going to school anymore¡­¡±

    Rose froze, her body going rigid. The words hit her like a blow. ¡°What do you mean, you¡¯re not going to school anymore?¡± she demanded, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief. The coins slipped from her hand, falling to the floor in a harsh, metallic clatter. ¡°What the hell have I been paying for, then?¡± she closed her eyes, using both hands to scrape at her throbbing head.

    Opening them to find Dahila¡¯s wide, innocent blue eyes, brimmed back at her with worry. Rose could feel the frustration boiling. For a fleeting moment, she was filled with an urge to lash out, to claw those oversized eyes from Dahlia¡¯s face.

    The thought hit her like a slap, leaving her breathless. Rose gasped, horrified at herself. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispered.

    Taking a shaky breath, she lowered her hands, her fingers trembling as she dragged them down her face. It felt as if everything was draining from her. Leaving a numbing realization. ¡°Dahlia,¡± she began, her voice unsteady but softer now, ¡°did you steal the coins?¡±

    Dahlia shook her head quickly, her small frame trembling. ¡°No,¡± she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°I told you, I earned them.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Rose stared at Dahlia, an ache of weariness made it difficult for her to focus, but it''s not like she didn''t know the little girl. Even without reading the book she knew Dahlia was a pure child who knew right and wrong and would never steal. She felt foolish for worrying about it.

    Her jaw tightened as she drew a slow breath through her nose. When she opened her lips to apologize, she found she couldn''t do it. ¡°How long?¡± she finally asked, her tone low. ¡°How long have you not been going to school?¡±

    Dahlia¡¯s lips parted as if to answer, but hesitation stopped her. She shifted her weight uncomfortably, her small hands twisting the hem of her oversized shirt as her gaze dropped to her feet. The silence stretched thin between them, broken only by the faint crackle of the candle on the table. Finally, Dahlia whispered, ¡°I was kicked out¡­ for cheating.¡±

    The confession hit Rose like a cold wind. She blinked, her brows knitting together in surprise. ¡°Cheating?¡± she repeated, the sharp edge in her voice dulling into confusion. Dahlia¡­ cheated?

    ¡°I didn¡¯t cheat,¡± the child said quickly, her voice trembling with urgency. The words spilled out in a frantic rush, ¡°another kid got the same answers I did. The teacher said it happened on every test last year, too... but I didn¡¯t cheat.¡± Her voice cracked, and tears brimmed in her wide, fearful eyes. ¡°The teacher said it was obviously me because of my low-born status. Th¨¦o, the boy who got the same answers as me, was born in the city, so the teacher said he would never cheat.¡± Her voice rose, desperation thick in every syllable. ¡°But I didn¡¯t cheat!¡±

    The silence that followed wrapped around them like a heavy shroud. Rose¡¯s mind spun, of course she didn''t fare any better than her, did she? How could she just think everything would be fine if she went to school. They were both two useless pieces, not even given a chance to move before they would be thrown away. Rose couldn''t help but lose a few more tiny snickers.

    Dahlia shuffled closer, her small hands clutching at the fabric of Rose¡¯s dress. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her voice cracked as she repeated, ¡°I didn¡¯t cheat.¡±

    Rose opened her mouth, she softened her voice. ¡°I believe you.¡±

    Dahlia fell on Rose, hugging her legs and repeated, ¡°I didn''t cheat.¡±

    ¡°I believe you.¡± Rose repeated gently rubbing the girl''s head.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Dahlia whispered again, her tone quieter but no less desperate.

    ¡°I know,¡± Rose said softly

    For a long while, they sat there in the stillness of the dim room. Rose let Dahlia cry, releasing the frustration and fear that had built up inside her. She didn¡¯t rush the girl, didn¡¯t try to fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she simply waited, stroking the girl''s head.

    Eventually, the sobs subsided, and Dahlia sniffled as she pulled away, wiping at her puffy eyes with the back of her sleeve. She scrambled up to sit beside Rose, leaning against her with a small, tired sigh. ¡°You¡¯re cold,¡± Dahlia said, her voice soft and hoarse from crying.

    ¡°I was just outside,¡± Rose replied, wrapping an arm around the girl¡¯s shoulders. A faint smile tugged at her lips. ¡°You¡¯re very warm.¡±

    She hugged Dahlia tightly, eliciting a small laugh from the girl.

    Rose exhaled a quiet sigh, the sadness in her chest pooling into her voice. ¡°Next time, tell me sooner,¡± she said gently. ¡°Maybe I could¡¯ve done something about it¡­¡±

    Her voice faltered, the words bitter on her tongue. But what could I really do for us? The thought settled heavily in her chest, cold and unyielding. She pushed it aside. Dahlia didn¡¯t need to hear that, not now. What Dahlia needed was to see her with strength, even if she didn''t have any, she could pretend for her.

    But that could wait for tomorrow. What happened at school, the coins. Even her job could wait. For now the sat together, the both of them had suffered quite a lot today but everything would be better tomorrow. And if not, then the next day, or the next. For now,

    They sat like that for a long time, the only sounds in the room the crackling of candle flames and the gradually softening breaths.

    Her body grew heavier and the tension seeped away quickly. Almost, she thought faintly, her mind drifting. We¡¯ll figure it out. Just a little bit longer¡­

    Soon.

 Chapter 26 ? A Dress for Rose

    Young Rose pressed herself against the cold stone wall, her small frame trembling. The chill seeped through her thin dress, biting at her skin, but she barely noticed. Her focus was fixed on the faint voices drifting from beyond the barely open door. She strained to hear every word.

    ¡°It¡¯s just not something we can do,¡± her father said, his voice heavy with resignation. There was a faint clink of metal¡ªcoins? Silence hung in the air before he continued. ¡°Iris is one thing, but Rose¡­¡± His words trailed off, unfinished but cutting.

    Her mother¡¯s voice came next, gentle but firm. ¡°Maybe you could ask the lord for help. He does owe you, after everything you¡¯ve done for him.¡±

    A sudden thud shattered the fragile quiet. Rose flinched as the sound reverberated through the stone walls. She could easily guess her father had slammed his hand against the table. Her heart raced as she pressed her ear closer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need anyone¡¯s help,¡± he growled, his voice low and sharp. ¡°It¡¯s just a missing leg. I¡¯ve already proven I can work without it.¡±

    Her mother¡¯s tone tightened, edged with frustration. ¡°You¡¯ve proven you can try to work,¡± she countered. ¡°But you haven¡¯t met any of the quotas. And they¡¯re not paying you what they should because of it.¡±

    Silence followed, thick and suffocating. Rose froze, her breath shallow, certain she¡¯d been caught. But before she could flee, her father let out a bitter sigh. ¡°I can provide for this family without anyone¡¯s help,¡± he muttered, his voice almost pleading, as if trying to convince himself more than her.

    Rose hesitated, then peeked around the corner. Her small fingers gripped the edge of the wall as she watched her father slump in his chair, his shoulders heavy with defeat. Her mother leaned toward him, cupping his cheek in her hand and gently turning his face toward hers.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done a great job,¡± she said softly, her voice steady and warm, the kind of tone that could soothe even the sharpest tempers. ¡°No one expected Rose to be a girl. But you¡¯ve done what so many others wouldn¡¯t. Because of you, we have two daughters who¡¯ve grown up in a loving home,¡± she said, her words unwavering.

    ¡°How could we throw away the little girl?¡± her father¡¯s words barely reached her. ¡°She had your eyes.¡±

    She wasn¡¯t supposed to be born, to live.

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± her mother replied, her voice softening. They shared a quiet laugh, but it was quickly stifled.

    Rose drew back sharply, pressing herself against the wall as her breath caught in her throat. Her wide eyes brimmed with tears. A buzzing sensation filled her head, drowning out everything else. Her parents¡¯ words pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. These words confirmed the one thing she had feared ever since she turned twelve¡ªno, even before that. Deep down, perhaps she had always known.

    ¡°It¡¯s bad enough as it is,¡± her father muttered. ¡°The only reason we¡¯re getting by is because of the M¨¦rof¨¦e.¡±

    Her mother chuckled lightly, a weary sound. ¡°That¡¯s because the chief owes you too,¡± she teased. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how many people would help if you just asked.¡±

    Her father shook his head, his jaw tightening. ¡°It was my duty. My job,¡± he said, his hand drifting unconsciously to the empty space where his leg ended. His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°My life¡­¡±

    Her mother leaned closer, lifting his chin with a tender touch, forcing him to meet her gaze. ¡°Your life is here,¡± she said, her tone resolute. Her eyes, steady and strong, held him in place. ¡°With me.¡± She kissed him softly, and for a fleeting moment, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. ¡°And with both your daughters,¡± she added as she pulled away.

    Before silence could settle, a calm voice cut through the room. ¡°You could just buy one dress.¡±

    Both parents turned sharply toward the stairs, where Iris stood. Her hand rested on the rail, her expression calm but determined. She stepped forward, confidence radiating from her small frame as she stood before them.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Her mother frowned, her voice gently chiding. ¡°Honey, what are you doing here? You should be asleep.¡±

    ¡°I want to help,¡± Iris said simply.

    ¡°Lei El¡¯ora, you don¡¯t need to worry about this,¡± her mother said.

    Iris shook her head firmly. ¡°I¡¯m not worried. We¡¯ll make it through¡ªwe always do. But it¡¯s Rose who suffers because of it.¡±

    Her father bristled. ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Iris replied, her tone steady. ¡°And that¡¯s okay, Dad. We can¡¯t change our situation. We don¡¯t have enough money to go around¡ªit¡¯s understandable. But we can decide how to handle it from now on, and this time, Rose should come first. She should have a dress.¡± Iris insisted.

    Her mother blinked, her brow creasing in confusion. ¡°Honey, you don''t know what you''re saying.¡±

    ¡°Of course I do, and Rose should get the ceremony dress,¡± Iris answers. ¡°We don''t have enough to buy two.¡±

    ¡°Honey, don''t worry about this,¡± her mother said. ¡°Go back to bed, leave this to us.¡±

    ¡°No, If I don''t worry about it, no one will, I know You¡¯ve been saving up quite a bit for both of us, but it''s not going to happen. Take the money for my dress and use it for whatever it is this time. Save the rest for what comes next Mom, Dad, we''re never going to be financially stable, but It¡¯s her turn.¡±

    Her father¡¯s brows furrowed deeply, his jaw tightening as he considered her words. ¡°The ¨¦panflor de Vie is important for both of you,¡± he argued. ¡°Yours is coming next year. We have enough money for the dress, don''t worry about it, We¡¯ll find a way to buy you both dresses.¡±

    ¡°No, you won¡¯t,¡± Iris countered, puffing up her chest. ¡°Instead, you¡¯ll buy my dress and give it to her after.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen,¡± her father said.

    ¡°It always does!¡± Before he could respond, Iris threw a burned piece of cloth onto the table. The delicate embroidery was unmistakable¡ªa rose, singed and ruined.

    Her father¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°What is this?¡±

    ¡°The dress you bought me a few years ago,¡± Iris said. ¡°The one you gave me knowing it would belong to Rose eventually.¡±

    He frowned, staring at the charred fabric. ¡°What happened to it?¡±

    ¡°What happens when you give a girl who doesn''t understand what''s going on. I loved that dress, it made me feel special¡± Iris took a deep breath. ¡°I didn''t want her to have it so I¡­ I burned it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Honey!¡±

    ¡°I made mistakes,¡± Iris said, her voice trembling slightly. ¡°I never considered Rose¡¯s feelings. I was selfish.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make you a bad kid,¡± her mother said gently, rising to embrace her.

    ¡°And not being able to pay for both kids doesn''t make you a bad adult.¡± Iris counted. ¡°So please let me make it up to here this one way, okay. Let''s get her the dress she deserves. If we need to I can wear it first but please give me another chance to give Rose the dress.¡± she looked at her father with big pleading eyes. ¡°Please.¡±

    His stern gaze cracked under her gaze. He grumbled, ¡°fine.¡± He spat. As if he was annoyed but he relaxed in the chair, knowing it was one of the few viable options they had.

    ¡°Really?¡± Iris¡¯s face lit up.

    ¡°Really?¡± her mother echoed, surprised.

    ¡°It would help,¡± he told his wife. ¡°And you, stay out of these things from now on, it''s our job to worry about you, not the other way around.¡±

    Iris dashed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. ¡°Thank you!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± he replied. ¡°Now, go to bed.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Iris left, gracefully climbing the stairs.

    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± his wife asked him. Returning to the seat.

    ¡°It''s¡­ why do you think we shouldn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°No, of course we should.¡± she said, a little too quickly. ¡°I mean,¡±

    ¡°No, it''s fine.¡± he nodded, looking back at the coins on the table. ¡°It''s never enough is it?¡±

    ¡°That''s because.¡± she started but held her tongue.

    The room was silent.

    ¡°Well, if we do buy only one dress we should make sure it''s the best dress around. We¡¯ve got the coin for it.¡± he laughed.

    ¡°Leave that to me, your taste never grew past infancy.¡±

    Rose sat in the shadows, her back pressed to the wall, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her parents¡¯ decision echoed in her mind, but instead of relief, she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt

    She hugged her knees tighter. How could I have been so blind? The quiet acts of love she never saw, they were always there.

    For so long, she had convinced herself that she was nothing but a burden. A parasite in her own home. But now¡ªnow she could understand.

    They loved her.

    And then there was the money. If only she had known about their struggles sooner. If only she had tried to understand. If only. The word repeated in her mind like a cruel taunt.

    Rose buried her face in her arms, silent sobs shaking her small frame. She felt both cherished and utterly miserable.

 Chapter 27 - 5 days later...

    Rose groaned, her body felt stiff while her mouth was dry to the point of discomfort. Yet she was comfortable. Far too comfortable. She wanted to go back to sleep but the want of her parched mouth won  out. With a gentle groan she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She could only blink at the ceiling for a moment before realizing it looked odd.

    She brought a hand to her eyes, its movement stiff, awkward. She was left to wonder if she got enough sleep before realizing she never got enough. She had to work, always working without a single day off because if she took a day off that was a waste of 3 ¨¦tain and an expense she couldn''t afford.

    ¡°Work.¡± the word croaked out of her mouth as her eyes flew open in full. She bolted up, her eyes drifted toward a window, where the pale blue of the morning sky peeked through soft curtains. A sinking feeling settled in her chest.

    Late.

    I¡¯m late.

    Very late.

    Panic thundered at her heart driving away the last vestiges of sleep. With a curse, she pushed the damp, clinging blanket off her and swung her legs over the edge of the bed before pushing herself off and stumbling. Falling hard to the floor. The unforgiving stone floor met her hands and knees with a sharp kiss that drew blood.

    She hummed in miserable pain. Staying there for a moment as she tried to figure out what happened, her muscles burning from strain. For a brief and horrible moment she realized she couldn''t move, not as well as she used to but her body failed to obey, she couldn''t stand.

    As her heart lurched in her throat she sat down, keeping herself upright with her hands as she tried to breath for a moment, to understand. The cold of the wood floor stole away the warmth of her hand, allowing a chill that calmed her down.

    She realized then that the floor was wood, not stone. The air was clean, crisp---not stale. Her eyes darted around. At the walls, painted white, the bed, large and inviting and the window, big and open. The more she saw the more she understood her mind catching up to, starting a little too late but realizing all the same. ¡°Where am I?¡± this was not her home.

    She started to the window, a struggle as every movement caused her muscles to complain. Slow, sluggish, but she made her way to her feet and to the window. There, leaning against the rich wood windowsill she looked out as the gentle breeze cooled her warm body. It was still the city, still Marchenne but a different quarter. Still she could see the L''Sept¡¯s Grand Cathedral, the tips of its large seven spires anyway.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± she wondered aloud once more. But she shook her head. She couldn''t stay here whatever the case, the sun was high in the sky. She was late, far too late for a reasonable excuse. She eyed around, finding the door with ease and hastened to it. She paused however as she put her hand on the brass handle. The hand, her right, didn''t hurt. She used her dominant out of reflex but instead of exacerbating an injury she found the hand quite uninjured.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    She lifted it to her face and examined it, twisting it this way and that, but it was her hand, even clicking softly when she wiggled her fingers. No pain, not even a trace of that thug work on her finger. She could only blink before she had to stumble away from the door as it came crashing open.

    As a sharp creek echoed from the door a soft thud came from the floor. Falling butt first, Rose felt a pain shoot up her tailbone. She wasn''t able to think about it long however.

    ¡°Auntie!¡± The cry was followed by a full tackle from the girl who yelled it. She embraced rose as they collapsed on the floor.

    ¡°Dahlia?¡± Rose could only question a soft whisper as she blinked.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Dahlia clinged tighter to her, threatening to break something. ¡°Yes, It''s me! I''m so glad you''re okay!¡± there was a tremor in her voice, a sniffle. Was she¡­crying?

    ¡°You¡¯re OK!¡± Dahlia choked out between tears. ¡°You¡¯re really OK!¡±

    ¡°OK?¡± she managed to put a hand on the child''s back, giving her a gentle rub. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m okay.¡± She struggled a bit but managed to raise both herself and the girl to their knees at least. She would have liked to move to the bed or something softer but for now she needed to comfort the girl. Something was clearly wrong.

    ¡°Dahlia,¡± Rose said slowly, her tone tinged with confusion. She gently pried the girl¡¯s face away from her chest, trying to meet her eyes. ¡°Where exactly are we?¡±

    Dahlia sniffled, hard. She quickly whipped her face before standing up, reaching out and helping Rose do the same as she answered, ¡°The recovery ward of the adventurer¡¯s guild.¡±

    Rose blinked her eyes wide. ¡°The guild?¡± she repeated, scarcely able to accept it. ¡°Why would we be in the guild?¡±

    Before Dahlia could respond, a third voice answered from the doorway, calm but firm. ¡°Because you collapsed five days ago.¡±

    Rose¡¯s gaze snapped to the speaker. A gentle-looking woman stood in the doorway, her short brown hair framing a set of green eyes. She wore a simple dress a lot of guild members had; Brown and light tan, deliberately tailored to accentuate curves while the men looked like mini butlers---each with their associated guild¡¯s pin to their collar. This girl¡¯s was silver with a border of a wreath around its edge. A Guild administrator. She would never forget that rank.

    It was the same pin as the man who told her they would never care to hire a worthless hag like her. Why her adventuring, well adventure, died within a few days after she thought everything was looking up after she left that worthless waiter job.

    Pushing the memories aside, Rose frowned, her mind catching the woman¡¯s words. ¡°What do you mean, I collapsed five days ago?¡± she asked.

    Before the woman could respond, Dahlia answered. ¡°You fell asleep when you came home that day and wouldn¡¯t wake up!¡± She said, ¡°I couldn''t think about what to do but go get Sarah.¡±

    ¡°Sarah?¡± Rose repeated, her eyes moving back to the guild administrator.

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me,¡± raising a hand she pointed to herself and turned the finger to Dahlia. ¡°I¡¯ve been handling your daughter for a while now.¡±

    ¡°Handling my daughter?¡± she echoed again, I have a kid? No, that''s not right. Besides she pointed to¡­She looked down at Dahlia, who quickly spoke up.

    ¡°Mom!¡± She hugged Rose. ¡°Don''t be mad, I tried to tell you that day but---anyway. Mom, the thing is I¡¯m an adventurer now.¡± She pushed herself off Rose, looking up at her with her blue eyes. ¡°That¡¯s where I got the money!¡±

    Rose had to take everything in, barely any time to process that. Speaking of time. ¡°I need to get to work.¡± she whispered. She was late, days late. ¡°...if I have a job.¡±

 Chapter 28: Lightroot

    ¡°Lord Silvio Knows where you are already,¡± Sarah spoke with a little disinterest as she looked between the two of them. ¡°Lightroot was quite insistent in that little aid and she is quite the little hopeful, so we obliged.¡±

    He already knows¡­ the words hit Rose with a bit of force, taking what little strength she had left away. She soon found herself sitting back on the bed. ¡°So I''ve been fired.¡±

    ¡°Fired?¡± Sarah raised an eyebrow. ¡°No, the guild takes care of its own, and it''s not like Lightroot ever asked for anything before. So we helped her family, a little.¡± she added the last words like it was something annoying, but easy.

    Must be nice.

    ¡°Who''s Lightroot?¡± Rose looked at the young girl, already aware but wanted to confirm all the same.

    ¡°That''s me!¡± Dahlia answered with a big smile. ¡°Everyone has a nickname they use in the guild!¡± she beamed at Rose seemingly expecting some praise.

    Rose looked back at Sarah instead, causing Dahlia to deflate, just a little. ¡°You say you¡¯ve healed me, took precautions to keep my job safe and look after me all because a little girl asked you to?¡±

    ¡°I''m not a little girl anymore!¡± Dahlia complained but Rose held her gaze with Sarah.

    ¡°Like I said, she''s a little hopeful.¡± It was so matter of factly stated that Rose would have believed her, if not for that sly little smile this fox of a woman slipped on her lips. ¡°Although the guild does have conditions for you, as you are her mother.¡±

    Rose looked at Dahlia who faltered a little. Then the girl hugged her again. Looking into her eyes she said, ¡°Mom.¡± it was cute, obvious, but cute.

    ¡°So,¡± Rose said, looking back at the administrator, ¡°The conditions?¡±

    ¡°Lightroot is smart, clever and has received a small education that''s clear.¡± Sarah began while Rose found it oddly annoying that smart and clever basically meant the same thing. ¡°She''s quick to pick things up and has never failed a task. To be frank, she could be one of the best recruits we have this year.¡±

    ¡°So you want me to allow her to remain in the guild, even after you issued her without parental knowledge.¡±

    Sarah¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡°I see you also know a thing or two.¡±

    ¡°I work in a library. Coping a lot of books. Books of law are one of the most often copied due to changes or additions, but in my entire job working there the law about children working under the guild has yet to be changed.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well Lightroot did say her mother was dead.¡±

    ¡°Did she now?¡± Rose looked at Dahlia, poking her cheek sharply.

    ¡°I- I''m sorry mommy.¡± she hesitantly said. ¡°I just knew you needed help.¡±

    Flicking Dahlia on the nose Rose said, ¡°we will talk about that later, for now I take it this little adventure of ours will cost me a Statement Of Release.¡±

    ¡°Free from a Magically Binding of course.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Rose tried to keep her eyes from rolling. Of course it wouldn''t be magically binding, they wanted to back date it. Still it worked out well for them as well. She looked back at Dahlia. ¡°I need to talk to¡­my daughter---alone if you don''t mind.¡±

    ¡°I''m sure you have a lot to talk about.¡± Sarah said before she gave them a nod. ¡°Very well, I shall be available once you are ready to sign the Statement.¡± With that the woman left the room with a small, uninterested ¡°Take care.¡± leaving Rose and Dahlia alone.

    The room was still for a long moment, the only sound the faint crackle of distant activity beyond the room could be heard. Dahlia clung tightly to Rose, her small hands gripping the fabric of her dress as if afraid to let go. But her eyes remained pointedly away, as if the young girl was afraid.

    Rose mused about what happened in this silence. The last thing she remembered was going to sleep, much like they are now. Yet she woke up five days later and her hand was healed, almost completely so---her finger was a little askew¡­ she thought.

    With a long breath Rose broke the silence. ¡°Dahlia.¡± the girl flinched at her own name. ¡°When exactly did you get expelled from school?¡±

    Dahlia hesitated. ¡°I got expelled four weeks ago,¡± she admitted. ¡°The same day you paid off the loan.¡±

    Rose¡¯s stomach tightened, her chest constricting. ¡°How do you know about that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re not very good at keeping secrets,¡± she said, letting out a small, nervous giggle. ¡°You¡¯re the one who taught me how to read, remember?¡±

    Rose blinked, trying to understand what she meant and then it hit her, ¡°the ledger¡­¡± She whispered out in understanding. her voice was barely audible. Money was very hard to track without some help so she had bound a small book for herself. Blank pages, not enough to be noticed but enough to allow her to track her funds. To plan and save.

    She kept it at work at first, then Felix grew more and more disturbed by his childs pregnancy, asking her every question he could think of, she often thought he hired her for that reason alone. It wasn''t safe there, so she brought it home, but Dahlia was right. She had taught her how to read. She had been careless.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°I have a hard time hearing you sometimes,¡± Dahlia continued, her tone matter-of-fact, though her small hands fidgeted nervously with the fabric of Rose¡¯s dress. ¡°But Boris is loud. Really loud.¡±

    Rose¡¯s heart wrenched at the thought. She asked hesitantly, ¡°You didn¡¯t hear everything, did you?¡±

    Dahlia didn¡¯t answer, but the flicker of tension gave Rose all the confirmation she needed. Deep down, she had already known the answer. Of course she knew that door wasn''t thick. What child wouldn''t be curious.

    She heard everything.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Dahlia said quickly, her voice breaking through Rose¡¯s spiraling thoughts. ¡°I¡¯ve been working with the guild for a bit, earning money. More than enough to pay the next few installments.¡±

    Rose¡¯s heart sank. The word installments sounded so wrong coming from the lips of a child. Her mouth opened, but the words wouldn¡¯t come. Finally, she managed, ¡°There¡¯s nothing for you to worry about¡ª¡±

    ¡°Of course I should worry about it!¡± Dahlia interrupted, her voice rising. ¡°I can¡¯t just sit around all day and watch you suffer!¡± She almost shouted, her small frame trembling with barely contained frustration.

    ¡°I¡¯m not suffering,¡± Rose tried to insist, but her voice wavered.

    ¡°I am not a child anymore,¡± Dahlia said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and frustration. ¡°You didn¡¯t break your hand falling, and you haven¡¯t been pulling your hair out for no reason, Auntie Rose. I¡¯ve already lost my mom and dad¡­ I don¡¯t want to lose you too.¡±

    The words struck Rose like a dagger to the heart. Her lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came. A lump rose in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Finally, she forced out a whisper, ¡°Your parents are on their way¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Dahlia shook her head firmly, her voice unwavering. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, and you know that.¡±

    Her expression softened, but there was no hesitation in her words. ¡°I figured it out a long time ago. Even if I didn¡¯t want to accept it¡­ even when hearing you lie to me about it made it easier¡ªmade me believe, even for just one more second¡ªit¡¯s too late now.¡± She inhaled sharply, steeling herself. ¡°I know the truth. They¡¯re gone. You and I both know that.¡±

    Rose¡¯s throat tightened painfully. She could only nod, her voice failing her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she murmured, barely audible. ¡°I wish I could have told you sooner¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± Dahlia cut in again, her voice gentler now. ¡°No¡ªit¡¯s not all right.¡± Her breath hitched as she pushed herself off the bed, turning to face Rose with tears welling in her eyes. ¡°How could you lie to me like that?¡±

    Rose flinched at the accusation, guilt settling deep in her chest.

    Dahlia wiped at her eyes with the heel of her palm before whispering, ¡°How could you keep pretending when you knew the truth? How could Dad leave me?¡± Her voice cracked. ¡°Why did he leave? Did he not want me anymore?¡±

    For a moment, she seemed so small¡ªjust a child, standing in the dimly lit room, hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides.

    ¡°Mom died, but Dad¡­ Dad just left.¡± Dahlia looked down at her hands, her shoulders stiff. ¡°He just left.¡±

    Rose swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Your father¡ª¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Dahlia interrupted, shaking her head as fresh tears streamed down her face.

    ¡°But¡­¡± Rose tried to say something but Dahlia waved it off.

    ¡°I told you I don''t care, you are all I have left in the world Auntie. I know it''s not been easy but please for once let me help. I''m really good at this. I can help. I am helping.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t care.¡± She sniffled, rubbing at her face before lifting her gaze. Her eyes, red and swollen, locked onto Rose with a quiet intensity. ¡°You¡¯re all I have left in the world, Auntie. I know it hasn¡¯t been easy, but please, just once¡ªlet me help.¡±

    Her voice cracked, but her determination didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I¡¯m good at this. I always pick the right plants, I always collect just enough. I can help. I am helping.¡±

    Rose¡¯s chest tightened. ¡°But it¡¯s too dangerous.¡±

    Dahlia shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s all right. Most of the kids are grouped together and overseen by an adventurer. We do simple, repetitive tasks¡ªcollecting. It¡¯s not dangerous¡ªit¡¯s just labor. And it pays well.¡±

    Rose frowned deeply. ¡°What kind of collecting?¡±

    ¡°Herbs, seeds, flowers¡ªwhatever we¡¯re tasked with,¡± Dahlia answered.

    ¡°In the forest?¡± Rose¡¯s stomach twisted with unease.

    Dahlia nodded, rubbing her cheek against the bed in an almost casual, childlike gesture. ¡°Yes, the forest outside the gate. But we have an adventurer with us to make sure everyone¡¯s safe.¡±

    Rose sat up sharply, her body tense. ¡°You can¡¯t go to the forest,¡± she said, her voice low but firm. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous.¡±

    Dahlia hesitated before responding softly, ¡°It¡¯s five ¨¦tain a day.¡±

    Rose blinked, stunned. ¡°Five ¨¦tain?¡± she repeated.

    Dahlia nodded. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s the lowest I make¡ªa day.¡±

    Rose opened her mouth to argue but hesitated, her thoughts swirling. She closed it again, unsure of what to say. Finally, she managed, ¡°But it¡¯s dangerous. And you¡¯re just a child. I can¡¯t put you in that kind of risk.¡±

    Dahlia¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Other children do it,¡± she countered quickly. ¡°We work together to gather everything. It¡¯s not as bad as you think.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡± Rose started, only for the words to catch in her throat as Dahlia slipped out of bed. The girl turned to face her, standing firm despite her small frame, her hands clenched at her sides.

    ¡°I get it,¡± Dahlia said, her voice unwavering. ¡°You¡¯re trying to give me a good life. I understand that. But we can¡¯t have a good life unless we¡¯re both okay.¡±

    Her voice softened, but the conviction in her tone never wavered. ¡°And right now, Auntie Rose¡­ you¡¯re not.¡±

    Rose felt something crack inside her. She tried to argue again, to tell Dahlia that she was fine¡ªthat she could take care of everything on her own. But before she could form the words, Dahlia shook her head, stepping toward the door.

    ¡°You need rest.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not tired,¡± Rose protested weakly, trying to push herself upright. But her body betrayed her, the weight of exhaustion dragging her back down. She barely registered the sensation of sinking into the mattress, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. Somehow, she ended up flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, her vision hazy at the edges.

    Dahlia lingered for a moment, watching her. Then, with quiet finality, she murmured, ¡°Sleep.¡±

    The door clicked softly as Dahlia left the room.

    Rose tried to fight it, tried to stay awake¡ªbut the pull of exhaustion was too strong.

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­¡± she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyelids fluttering shut before she could finish.

 Chapter 29: Young Dahlia

    Rose left the room soon after, her thoughts heavy and her body aching in ways that didn¡¯t quite make sense. The room she¡¯d been staying in was reserved for critically injured adventurers¡ªpeople who braved monsters, danger, and war. She couldn¡¯t help but find the irony in it. Her life felt just as out of place there as she did in the city itself. A peasant woman from Marchenne, taking up a bed meant for hardened heroes. Crippled heroes, she thought wryly, shaking her head as she made her way down the dimly lit hall.

    The guild¡¯s main counter came into view, and Sarah¡¯s sharp green eyes found her almost immediately. The woman waved her over with an ease that suggested she¡¯d been waiting. Reluctantly, Rose approached, her steps slow and deliberate.

    "How are you feeling?" Sarah asked, her tone calm but probing.

    Rose hesitated, glancing down at herself. Her limbs still felt foreign, her movements slightly stiff. ¡°A bit¡­ off,¡± she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. ¡°Some parts don¡¯t feel quite right.¡±

    Sarah shrugged lightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s a miracle you¡¯re alive.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Rose muttered, forcing a weak grin. ¡°Feels like it.¡±

    But Sarah¡¯s expression shifted, her demeanor turning more serious. ¡°I¡¯ve looked into you,¡± she said plainly.

    Rose froze, her stomach knotting. The words hung in the air, heavy with implications. ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked cautiously, a sharp edge creeping into her tone.

    ¡°Rose of Villance,¡± Sarah began, her voice measured, ¡°second daughter of a father from the same village¡ªa village where families are only expected to have one daughter. Keeping a second is practically considered blasphemy.¡± Her green eyes gleamed with something unreadable. ¡°And yet, here you are.¡±

    Rose¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Your point?¡± she asked stiffly, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

    Sarah leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the counter. ¡°My point is that there¡¯s no reason for you to be taking care of young Dahlia.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s my sister¡¯s kid,¡± Rose replied quickly, her eyes darting to the wooden counter as her fingers began tracing its grain. She avoided Sarah¡¯s gaze, hoping to end the conversation before it could dig any deeper.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good enough reason,¡± Sarah countered, her tone steady, almost too calm. ¡°She¡¯s your sister¡¯s child, yes, but from what I¡¯ve gathered, you and your sister have been estranged for a long time. That¡¯s the whole reason you came to the city, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Rose¡¯s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing dangerously. ¡°You¡¯re quite informed,¡± she said coldly, her voice low.

    ¡°The guild has to be,¡± Sarah replied, entirely unbothered by the venom in Rose¡¯s tone. Her calm demeanor only fueled Rose¡¯s unease. ¡°Now let me get to the point.¡±

    With practiced precision, Sarah reached under the counter and pulled out a heavy bag. It hit the wooden surface with a resounding clink, the unmistakable sound of coins shifting inside. Rose¡¯s eyes flicked to the bag, her stomach churning. She didn¡¯t need to open it to know what it held¡ªa sum far beyond what she¡¯d ever seen.

    ¡°This,¡± Sarah said evenly, her hand resting lightly on the bag, ¡°is enough to pay off all your debts and let you live comfortably. Whether you choose to keep working or not is entirely up to you.¡±

    Rose stared at the bag, her throat tightening. Her gaze flicked back to Sarah, who remained poised and expressionless. ¡°So, what¡¯s the catch?¡± she asked, her voice flat but carrying a tremor beneath the surface.

    Sarah raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into something like amusement. ¡°The catch?¡± she echoed, as though the question itself were ridiculous. ¡°There¡¯s no catch.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Rose let out a bitter laugh, her voice trembling but gaining strength with each word. ¡°You healed me with a priest,¡± she said, her eyes locking onto Sarah¡¯s with growing intensity. ¡°A service that costs far more than any commoner could afford. And now you¡¯re offering to buy my child for a lot of money.¡±

    Sarah shook her head slowly, her expression remaining calm, her voice unwavering. ¡°It¡¯s no more than what she¡¯s worth,¡± she said plainly. ¡°You¡¯ll either accept this offer or you won¡¯t. There is no middle ground.¡±

    Rose¡¯s hand moved before she could think, shoving the bag off the counter. It fell to Sarah¡¯s feet with a heavy, metallic thud. The sound echoed in the quiet space as Rose¡¯s glare hardened.

    ¡°And that¡¯s the problem,¡± Rose hissed, her voice low and sharp, trembling with restrained fury. ¡°What the hell are you spending so much money on a kid for?¡±

    Her eyes narrowed, her anger rising with every word. ¡°More than that,¡± she continued, her voice gaining strength, ¡°why was I turned away when I tried to join the adventurer¡¯s guild? I¡¯m an adult¡ªsomeone who can think for themselves¡ªbut you¡¯ll take in a child? What sense does that make?¡±

    Her tone turned venomous, her words laced with bitterness, but Sarah¡¯s calm demeanor didn¡¯t falter. The woman didn¡¯t flinch, nor did she seem remotely rattled by Rose¡¯s outburst. Instead, she bent down, picking up the bag of coins with deliberate care before placing it back on the counter.

    ¡°Adventuring can be quite lucrative,¡± Sarah began, brushing off Rose¡¯s fury with an air of practiced detachment. ¡°Sure, not every task is glorious or rewarding, but the guild is more than just a miscellaneous quest board. It¡¯s a system, and it¡¯s not built for everyone. We don¡¯t take just anyone off the street.¡±

    She leaned forward slightly, her sharp green eyes locking onto Rose¡¯s. ¡°Children are good learners. Adults? Not so much. We take in those who can grow, adapt, and serve the guild long-term. If you had proved yourself worthy¡ªtruly worth the effort¡ªyou might have joined. But the guild is about give and take. Right now, we¡¯re giving Dahlia a future.¡±

    Her expression darkened, her tone sharpening. ¡°And when she grows up, she¡¯ll have opportunities to earn far more than you can imagine. Many of them¡ªthose we raise¡ªare generous enough to repay the guild for the opportunities we gave them. It¡¯s not a requirement, but it¡¯s a cycle that works. And it¡¯s why we thrive.¡±

    Rose¡¯s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding as Sarah¡¯s words sank in. ¡°So, that¡¯s it,¡± she said bitterly, her voice thick with contempt. ¡°You give them a chance, then guilt them into paying you later. You¡¯re just grooming them to be grateful enough to hand over their earnings.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s optional,¡± Sarah replied with a casual shrug, her voice annoyingly even. ¡°But almost all of them choose to pay it forward. After all, most of our adventurers crawled their way out of the streets. We gave them something no one else would.¡±

    Her eyes hardened, and she raised a hand to cut off Rose before she could respond. ¡°And no, I don¡¯t care what you have to say about it. You¡¯ve already agreed that Dahlia will continue working with the guild. You won¡¯t stop her, so be a good girl, take the money, and leave her to us.¡±

    Rose straightened, her eyes blazing with unshakable resolve. ¡°Fat chance,¡± she said, her voice steel. ¡°She¡¯s mine, and I won¡¯t give her up for anything in the world.¡±

    Without another word, Rose turned and began walking away, her back rigid with defiance. Each step was deliberate, her boots striking the ground with quiet resolve.

    ¡°Why?¡± Sarah¡¯s voice rang out behind her, sharp and piercing through the heavy air. ¡°What¡¯s the catch for you?¡±

    Rose kept walking, her pace unbroken, but Sarah wasn¡¯t finished.

    ¡°Why are you so willing to keep taking care of a child that isn¡¯t even your own?¡± Sarah pressed, her tone cold and demanding. ¡°It can¡¯t be for your sister¡ªyou barely knew her anymore. You know as well as I do that Dahlia¡¯s future here will be brighter, safer, better than anything you could ever offer her. So why keep insisting she¡¯s yours?¡±

    The words echoed in the space between them, biting and relentless. Sarah¡¯s questions hung in the air, waiting for an answer.

    But Rose didn¡¯t stop. She didn¡¯t turn around. Her steps remained steady, her back straight, her head held high. The weight of Sarah¡¯s accusations didn¡¯t slow her; they only added to the fire burning in her chest.

    She didn¡¯t need to say a word. Her answer was clear in the way she walked away, unwavering. Because Dahlia wasn¡¯t just a responsibility or a burden to her. She wasn¡¯t some tool to barter with or a life to gamble on the guild¡¯s promises.

    Dahlia was hers.

    The thought burned bright in Rose¡¯s mind, fueling her resolve. She¡¯s mine because I chose her. I chose her when no one else would. And I¡¯ll keep choosing her every day, no matter what you or anyone else says.

    Sarah¡¯s voice didn¡¯t follow her again, and soon the guild was behind her. Rose¡¯s heart pounded as she stepped into the cold air outside, the sharp wind biting at her skin. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her breath misting in front of her as she walked away, her path lit by the faint light of the city¡¯s lanterns.

    She didn¡¯t need to say a word. Her answer was clear enough.