As dusk settled, a grand celebration was about to unfold.

The palace of the Black Fort Kingdom shone with brilliance, its windows aglow, while a steady stream of opulent carriages arrived from all corners. Strong, courteous coachmen tended to their duties, and from each carriage stepped noble girls, elegantly dressed and radiantly beautiful.

Madame Temani was no different. Six months prior, she married Cinderella’s late father for his wealth, and after securing his fortune, she indulged in lavish spending. Yet, the modest riches of a small merchant couldn’t satisfy her vanity and greed. She craved higher standing—wealthier and more powerful connections. The royal family was her chosen target.

Madame Temani, though proud of her appearance, was realistic enough to know she couldn’t seduce a prince on charm alone.

Her daughters, Antaisia and Tresilia, were her hopes. Lacking in intelligence but blessed with beauty, they were her greatest assets in this gamble, and she was determined to succeed.

Yet, as always, a tiny, insignificant mouse dared to ruin her mood.

“Madame Temani,” Cinderella approached cautiously. She was no longer the soot-covered girl she had been; instead, she wore a simple but elegant pink gown. While the dress was modest, it gave her an air of freshness.

“May I go to the ball?” Cinderella asked hesitantly, quickly adding, “Don’t worry, this dress didn’t cost anything at the tailor’s. It was my mother’s, and I altered it myself.”

“Tsk, tsk…” Madame Temani scrutinized her from head to toe, then remarked, “Well, well, our little Cinderella! You look almost too beautiful to believe. Is this really your mother’s dress? Oh dear, it seems quite fragile…”

With a sudden rip, Madame Temani tore the sleeve. Then the neckline, then the hem…

“The seams are weak here… and here… oh, and here as well.”

“No!” Cinderella cried out in horror. In a matter of moments, the dress she had spent hours carefully mending had been reduced to tatters.

Madame Temani’s expression darkened. “You cannot attend the ball in such rags. You would disgrace us and ruin my daughters’ chances.”

Cinderella stared at the shredded remains of the dress, which had symbolized her mother’s love, her hopes, and her dreams of romance. In a whisper, she asked, “How could you…”

“Hm?” Madame Temani’s lips curled into a cold smirk. “I won’t allow a maid in rags to walk alongside us. Remember your place—you are nothing but a servant. Don’t ever dream of changing that.”

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“But the king invited everyone—all the young women,” Cinderella protested, her voice trembling as tears welled in her eyes. “That includes me.”

Madame Temani regarded her for a long moment before laughing. “Well, who am I to stand in the way of a young girl’s dreams of grandeur?”

Hope flickered in Cinderella’s eyes. Had Madame Temani finally relented? Was a miracle about to happen?

The answer was no.

“I’ll scatter a bowl of black beans into the kitchen ashes. If you can pick them all out, you may attend the ball. Don’t worry, dear Cinderella—the ball lasts a full week.”

Madame Temani threw the beans into the cinders and swept out of the room. As she departed, she added, “If you sneak out to the ball without finishing this task, there will be no place for you in this house.”

Cinderella heard Madame Temani’s triumphant laughter and the mocking voices of her two foolish daughters. “She thinks she can go to the ball? Ha! Who would marry a servant?”

“Black beans and ashes… oh my, nothing suits our dear little Cinderella better.”

For the first time, Cinderella felt the depth of true despair. She sat by the garden’s roses, weeping, her mother’s tattered dress clinging to her like a cruel joke.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I promised I would be brave and strong, but I can’t do it anymore. I’ve tried so hard…”

Despite her sorrow, a small flicker of hope remained. The ball did last a whole week, didn’t it?

From the shadows, Karo watched with dark amusement as Cinderella struggled to pick out the black beans from the filthy ashes. The beans were indistinguishable from the soot, and her task was slow and arduous. Soot smeared her hands and face, and her tears traced sad lines down her cheeks.

At Karo’s feet lay the bodies of small creatures—nature spirits who had come to help Cinderella but whose lives had been snuffed out by the demon’s dark magic.

Karo’s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement before he vanished into the night.

As midnight approached, Cinderella had gathered only half a bowl of beans. Exhausted, she realized it would take until morning to finish. How could she ever make it to the ball?

Despair weighed on her as she sat, staring blankly. Then, suddenly, a voice whispered, “Kind and beautiful girl…”

“Who’s there?” Cinderella turned quickly to see a weary traveler.

“Could you spare me some bread and milk? I’m too weak to go on,” the traveler pleaded.

Cinderella’s heart softened, and she agreed. “Wait here for a moment.”

She returned with bread and milk, and the traveler ate hungrily, then smiled gratefully. “I wish you good fortune.”

The traveler left, but Cinderella’s burdens remained.

As dawn broke, Madame Temani and her daughters returned from their night at the ball, still chattering about the evening’s events.

“I think the prince is in love with me! He looked at me three times!” one daughter exclaimed.

“Shut up, you fool! The prince liked me! Didn’t you see his stunned expression when he saw me?” the other retorted.

...

While Antaisia and Tresilia bickered, Madame Temani inspected Cinderella’s progress.

“Oh, poor Cinderella…” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “You’re so slow. You couldn’t even finish this small task. And you thought you’d go to the ball?”

“But don’t worry.” Madame Temani patted Cinderella’s cheek in mock reassurance. “You’ll have another chance today.”

Though exhausted from working all night, Cinderella had no choice but to carry on, attending to the cruel needs of her stepmother and stepsisters. But it was the growing despair in her heart that pained her most.

Each night followed the same cruel pattern. The black beans grew more numerous, the taunts more biting, and Cinderella’s spirit sank deeper into numbness.