The morning sun filtered through the thick velvet curtains, casting a soft glow upon the opulent chamber. Daevina despised the sound of those wretched words, "Good morning, Lady Daevina," that seemed to echo in her ears. With a frustrated sigh, she kicked off her blanket, pouting as she turned to face her maid, Lysa. The servant's wide smile only deepened her annoyance.

Reluctantly, Daevina rose from her bed, she removed her garments and allowed Lysa to guide her towards the bath. Two other maids, Lexia and the plump one whose name she could never recall, awaited her there, their smiles as bright as Lysa's. Daevina often wondered why they wore such constant expressions of happiness. Though she didn’t care enough to spare more than a moment’s thought on it. For her mother had always taught her that the common folk existed solely to serve their noble counterparts. Perhaps that explained their unwavering smiles.

She got out of bed and undressed before being led to her bathroom by the maid. Two other maids were waiting there, Lexia and the chubby maid whose name she could not remember. Just like Lysa, both had wide smiles on their faces. She always wondered why they smiled so much. The thought didn't cross her mind too often. Her mother had always said that the common folk existed to serve them. Maybe that was why they always smiled so earnestly.

"I shall wash your hair now, my lady," said the nameless maid, her voice filled with deference.

"Don’t forget to use the shampoo I like," she demanded. "Forgive me, my lady, it appears there was a delay with the shipment." The regular shampoo would always sting Daevina's eyes, so her mother had gotten a special shampoo just for her. One that did not hurt her eyes.

"Fine," she grumbled, before shutting her eyes tightly. The cold water cascaded down upon her head, carrying with it the smooth paste of the shampoo. The maid's hands worked diligently, massaging it deep into her scalp with fervent energy.

"Your hands are too fat," Daevina said to the maid. "Have Lexia do it instead." As she spoke, some of the soap had gotten into her mouth. It was awfully bitter and tasted horrible, causing her to cough and retch.

"Are you okay, my lady?" she heard Lysa ask.

"No, I'm not okay. Look what that stupid cow has done!" Daevina exclaimed, her frustration mounting.

"Leave," she heard Lysa say softly, "and don't come back ever!" Daevina added.

"My apologies, my lady," Lysa responded, her voice tinged with resignation. It was always the same with Lysa, always smiling and perpetually seeking forgiveness. Daevina couldn't help but feel on edge in her presence.

"My hair is clean enough," Daevina commanded sharply. "Prepare the bath."

"As you wish," came Lexia's obedient response. Daevina felt a towel brush past her, likely Lysa's doing. Grasping it, she vigorously scrubbed the soap from her face.

While moving the towel from her face to her hair, she overheard Lexia whisper, "Heat."

As she cautiously opened her now soap-free eyes, the entire bathroom had transformed into a hazy realm of steam. Sweat began to bead upon her body as the heat intensified.

"This way, my lady," Lysa offered her hand.

"I am fine," Daevina retorted, brushing aside Lysa's outstretched hand. She was over eight years old now. Left to her, she'd take her baths alone. She knew how to wash her own hair and use heat. She did not need others bothering her. But her mother insisted that such independence was unbecoming of a noble. A noblewoman, she claimed, needed assistance with such tasks.

After the bath, Lysa and Lexia meticulously dried her off before they commenced the process of dressing her. Purple was her mother's favorite color, and therefore, it adorned Daevina's attire without fail. However, Daevina held no affinity for the hue. Her mother would wax poetic about the dresses, proclaiming their origins in the finest materials, reflecting the opulence and grace befitting a noble of Daevina's stature.

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The dress featured a floor-length skirt that cascaded in gentle folds, skillfully crafted from sumptuous purple satin fabric. The satin possessed a subtle sheen, lending an air of regality to the garment. Delicate silver embroidery adorned the bodice and sleeves, depicting intricate patterns of floral motifs and filigree designs.

The neckline of the dress maintained modesty while being adorned with dainty lace trim, imparting a touch of delicacy. Puffed sleeves, reaching just above the elbows, were accentuated with silver ribbons, adding a playful element to the ensemble.

To complete the outfit, a wide sash of royal blue silk was elegantly tied around her waist, enhancing the contours of her youthful figure and introducing a striking contrast to the overall aesthetic.

Yet, Daevina cared little for any of it. Whenever she accompanied her mother outside the estate for various engagements, she would watch the common girls frolic and play, noticing how effortlessly they moved in their simple attire. Their dresses did not hinder their movements or encumber their exploration and enjoyment. A carefree spirit seemed to accompany their unpretentious garments, and Daevina longed for that sense of liberation.

She contemplated the practicality of their attire, recognizing how its simplicity granted a different form of freedom. She yearned for moments when she could roam without concern, unburdened by the need to tread carefully to avoid tripping over her elongated skirts or damaging delicate fabrics. She envied their ability to engage in physical activities without the constraints imposed by ornate attire.

"We are finished, my lady," Lysa declared, rousing Daevina from her reverie. Daevina nodded absently, her gaze fixed upon her reflection in the mirror.

"What shall we have for breakfast?" Daevina inquired, turning to Lysa.

Stepping forward with a respectful bow, Lexia responded, "Today, we have prepared a delightful two-course meal. The first course is a blissful garden salad, followed by an enchanted stir-fry."

Enchanted stir-fry, the name deceivingly embellished a simple collection of vegetables, including the awful Moonshadow mushroom that tasted like wet shoes. The mere thought of it made Daevina gag. This was also her mother's doing, she was sure of it. "No man wants a fat wife," she always said. Daevina cared little for the opinion of some unknown suitor. Her brothers were permitted to indulge in whatever they pleased, wear whatever they pleased, and spend their days playing with blades. Although she had no interest in blades, she would have wanted the option. Even the little stained boy got to play with a blade. But her mother said he was no good at it. She wondered if she would be any good.

"Lysa, is it ready?" Daevina queried, a glimmer of anticipation flickering in her eyes.

Lysa responded with her customary smile. "Yes, my lady. As you requested, the delightful parfait has been prepared."

Daevina's mouth watered at the mere thought of it, the whimsyberries already tantalizing her taste buds.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed cheerfully"Let's go!"

Guided by her entourage, Daevina gracefully made her way to the grand dining hall, her every step meticulously calculated. She was, after all, a noble lady. Suddenly, she caught sight of the stained boy emerging from his room.

He was her only younger sibling. When he was born, she was excited to play and tease him as her elders did to her, but her mother said he was a whore's son and to stay away from him. Daevina didn't listen, though. She tried to play with him a lot of times, but he was no fun. And after they found out he was stained, he became a little scary to her, so she stopped interacting with him altogether. They encountered each other nearly every day, as she made her way to the dining hall for breakfast and he departed for that common school, looking all gloomy. Her mother had tried to get her father to move her room further away from him, but for some reason, he refused.

In the past few days, Daevina had observed a change in him. His formerly unkempt black hair now held a neat and proper arrangement. His school uniform bore an immaculate appearance, and an air of regality seemed to surround him. Most significantly, he shed his sorrowful demeanor, and his eyes bore a resemblance to her father and older brother, Daemont. That made him scarier to Daevina.

As they got closer to him, she leaned over to Lysa and whispered so he wouldn't hear. "What was his name again?"

Lysa, as if understanding her intent, replied silently without looking down at her. "That would be Young Lord Daemian, my lady."

She didn't feel bad for not remembering his name. Half of her elders didn't remember her name either. Her elder sisters Daenara and Daesara called her Daevida for years. Though Daevina always suspected they did so merely to taunt her. One of her brothers only referred to her as 'you'; she was certain he only did this because he didn't know her name.

Deep in her own thoughts, before she knew it, she tripped on the long dress and fell with a loud thud.

"My lady!" Lysa exclaimed, dropping to her knees in tandem.

Daevina fought back the tears, for noblewomen did not succumb to weeping. But it hurt. It hurt so terribly.

Suddenly, a small shadow cast by Daemian fell over her. He approached, his figure gradually materializing as he knelt down beside her, extending a helping hand. , as she peered into his eyes, the pain seemed to dissolve, and the world around her faded into insignificance.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, his voice calm and soothing.

Before she could respond, Lysa interjected, blocking his hand. "Thank you for your concern, young lord. We will attend to her."

He paused for a moment, his gaze locked onto Daevina's, before replying, "Is that so? Very well, then."

And just like that, he departed. As Daevina watched him leave, a wave of sadness washed over her.