How tragic life can be.

One day, you hold in your hands the sweetest knight in the world. His golden eyes, captivating and steady, meet yours with unwavering devotion. You tease him with playful, flirtatious jokes, watching as he fumbles to hide his nervousness. And then, like a mischievous twist of fate, you find yourself explaining to your maid why your interest in the boy is not a genuine act of infidelity.

And the next day, your damn father arrives to ruin everything.

Truth be told, I didn't spend as much time with Alain as Betia accused me of. After he was sworn in as my knight, I took him to my room to hide him from Belmont's ever-watchful, and possibly murderous, eyes. Alain needed time to rest before heading back to the training grounds, and I also took the opportunity to change out of my disheveled attire.

But then Betia walked in.

She found us sitting together in the tea corner of my room. My hair was slightly unkempt, my torn dress lay discarded on the bed, and Alain, ever composed, sipped tea across from me. It was a perfect storm for misunderstanding. Her face turned an alarming shade of red as she pieced together an entirely scandalous scene in her mind.

I couldn't help myself. I decided to play along.

She fainted.

Alain, to his credit, left before she regained consciousness. Before stepping out, he assured me that I could summon him whenever I needed him and, if I wished to see him, he would always be at the training grounds. I sent him off with a smile and a small kiss on his cheek, watching as his face turned crimson before he hurried away.

In that moment, I realized I had gained a new ally.

The days that followed brought his presence into my life more frequently. Alain, loyal to his duty, often stopped by to stand guard outside my room for hours. Each time, I would invite him in for tea or conversation, but ever since that fateful encounter with Betia, he politely declined. He was determined to avoid further misunderstandings.

It was a pity. Although Alain wasn't the most engaging conversationalist, his presence alone brought me a comfort I couldn't quite explain. He made me feel safe in a way I hadn't experienced before.

Who would have thought that having a knight could be so... wonderful?

Betia, however, began to question my sudden decision to appoint Alain as my personal knight. At first, I suspected she might be jealous—after all, they knew each other from the training grounds. But, to my surprise, her feelings were quite the opposite.

She didn't admire Alain.

She hated him.

It turned out that Betia actually knew nearly all the warriors at the training grounds. Occasionally, she worked delivering their lunches, and in doing so, she had charmed her way into the hearts of everyone there.

Everyone except Alain.

Alain was the only one who refused to engage with her. No matter how many times Betia tried to strike up a conversation or win him over with her usual warmth, she was met with indifference or, worse, silence. For someone like Betia, who could talk endlessly from sunrise to sundown, this was the height of rudeness.

And so, Alain became her sworn archenemy.

At first, I might have found the situation odd, but now it made perfect sense. Alain reserved his kindness solely for me, for reasons I didn't fully understand but appreciated nonetheless. Sadly, there was nothing I could do to mend the bridge between them. At least he was always polite to her, even if curt. I had no reason to reproach him—and no grounds to demand he change.

Still, I felt a pang of sympathy for Betia's frustration. It was clear Alain would be my knight forever, whether she liked it or not. Perhaps one day, I could find a way to help them get along. After all, they were close in age—Betia would be fifteen soon, and Alain was already seventeen.

Then again... the boy was closer in age to me than to Betia.

But that was a thought for another time. My problems were multiplying by the day, and just as I was starting to wonder why everything had been so suspiciously quiet, the universe delivered an answer that left my midday dessert untouched.

The Duke had returned.

"Princess..."

"I know, Betia. I know, my goodness."

My father had arrived back from his weeks-long trip early that morning. I hadn't noticed, as I was still blissfully asleep in my bed. That is, until a terrible nightmare yanked me from my slumber. I couldn't remember the details of the dream—it vanished the moment I opened my eyes—but the unsettling feeling lingered, curling in my chest like an unwelcome guest.

Betia soon came into my room. She informed me that the Duke had returned, and, worse, that she had delivered the letter I had entrusted to her. But the news didn't stop there. My father wanted to see me.

My heart stopped.

Panic seized me instantly. I begged Betia to go back and tell the Duke I was gravely ill. Maybe he had been infuriated by my letter and intended to beat me into the next realm. I wasn't about to test my luck. I bolted the door to my room and swore I would spit on anyone who dared enter. No exaggeration.

But my rebellion only bought me a few hours. Eventually, a squad of guards stormed in and dragged me out by force. My fortress had fallen. I had no choice but to surrender.

At least I'd used the time wisely: I'd written my will. Every single paragraph ensured Belmont was cursed to a lifetime of misfortune.

I asked the guards for a few minutes to dress properly. Of course, I made sure to wear the magic earrings Prince Damian had given me—my ultimate insurance policy. If things went south, if my father's temper spiraled out of control, surely Damian would storm the mansion, even if it meant starting a civil war for my sake.

If he truly loved me, he wouldn't hesitate.

Once dressed, I was escorted down the mansion's long, suffocating hallways. The silence around us felt like the drumroll before an execution. Each step reverberated in my chest, amplifying my dread. I couldn't shake the feeling that, at the end of this walk, a guillotine awaited me.

We arrived at my father's office. The guards didn't need to knock. The Duke's voice boomed from within:

"Bring her in. Now."

I hesitated for a moment too long, but the guards nudged me forward. My heart raced as the doors swung open, revealing the room—and its occupants.

Edurne and Belmont were already there.

"I've been waiting hours for you, Daira," my father said, his tone cold and clipped.

I quickly bowed my head, feigning submission.

"Forgive me, Father. I wasn't feeling well."

"Ha! Now you're showing some manners," Belmont sneered from his corner, his voice oozing contempt.

The room felt like an interrogation chamber. All three of them stared at me as if I were a criminal brought before a judge, jury, and executioner. Sweat prickled my skin, and my knees threatened to buckle. I kept my gaze low, afraid of meeting my father's piercing eyes.

In the middle of the office, an enormous pile of boxes sat stacked almost to the ceiling. Wrapped in colorful, decorative paper, they looked like gifts meant for a celebration. The sight was so out of place in this grim setting that it momentarily distracted me.

But my father brought me back to reality with a flick of his hand. He held up the letter I had written.

"Is this letter telling the truth?" he asked, his voice razor-sharp.

Panic coiled in my chest like a serpent, tightening its grip.

"Yes," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I really want to learn magic."

Belmont's expression darkened, his lips curling into a sneer. Edurne, seated beside him, blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard by my admission.

"That would be the last thing anyone would want," Belmont spat. "You've completely lost your mind."

"I didn't know Daira was so interested in magic," Edurne murmured, her voice tinged with confusion rather than judgment.

Ignoring them both, the Duke unfolded the letter again, his eyes scanning its contents. When he spoke, his words cut through the air like a blade.

"The best school for magic is in Meridan. Here in Avantgar, there are none of note."

He fixed his unrelenting gaze on me, and I felt the weight of it like a physical blow.

"Why didn't you send this letter with a messenger instead of waiting for me to return to the mansion?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

I swallowed hard, willing myself to keep my voice steady.

"I was afraid... afraid they might lose it, Father."

The Duke leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

"Is your desire to learn magic truly that great?" he asked again, his voice softer but no less demanding.

My throat felt dry as sand. I had no choice but to answer.

"Yes, Father," I said, forcing the words out. "I truly want to learn magic."

The Duke sighed deeply, the sound heavy with thought.

"I cannot allow you to go to Meridan. It is too... strange a place," he said at last, his tone measured.

He fixed his piercing gaze on me, holding the silence for several long seconds before continuing.

"But I will try to find you an instructor who can come here to the mansion."

I blinked, stunned.

"Are you sure, Father? There's no point in Daira learning magic," Belmont interjected, his voice laced with disdain.

"What wonderful news, Daira!" Edurne chimed in, smiling warmly at me.

I could hardly believe it. For the first time, the Duke seemed to act... human. I had expected a fierce battle to convince him, a mountain of resistance to climb. But here he was, despite Belmont's protests, already making plans for my instruction.

For once, he was acting like my father.

"It will be a good hobby for Daira," the Duke replied, brushing off Belmont's objections. "Besides, since she doesn't have a knight assigned to her yet, it wouldn't hurt for her to learn some defensive spells. Just in case."

Oh.

"About that, Father... I already have one," I said, hesitating slightly.

The room fell into an oppressive silence. The Duke and Belmont exchanged incredulous looks before turning their stares back to me.

"What?!" Belmont roared, his voice nearly shaking the walls.

"What did you just say, Daira?" The Duke's tone was calm, but the danger beneath it was unmistakable.

I avoided their piercing gazes, feeling my cheeks grow inexplicably warm.

"I... I already have a knight," I repeated, my voice wavering just a little. "I did it with Alain a few days ago..."

The Duke's hand slapped over his face, his fingers dragging down as if trying to physically hold in his frustration. Belmont, meanwhile, looked as if his entire world had crumbled before him.

"That son of a bitch! I'll kill him!" he bellowed, his voice an eruption of fury.

"I want to too," Edurne murmured shyly, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.

Wait. Why did it suddenly feel like we weren't talking about knighthood anymore?

"Do you even realize what you've done, child?" the Duke growled, his words dripping with restrained fury.

I met his gaze, determined to stand my ground.

"Yes, Father. I am fully aware of the responsibility I placed on Alain," I said firmly, though my choice of words only seemed to make Belmont's eye twitch harder.

Silence hung in the air for several tense seconds.

"Belmont, who is this warrior named Alain?" the Duke finally asked, his gaze sharp.

"He ain't no warrior," Belmont scoffed. "Barely scraped by to become a squire. He's a bastard about this size"—he gestured dismissively—"and doesn't get along with anyone in his platoon. Doesn't have good references either."

What a miracle that Belmont didn't rat me out for the other time. Small mercies.

"And why did you choose this boy, Daira?" the Duke asked, turning his piercing eyes on me.

"I trust him completely," I replied without hesitation.

The Duke's gaze lingered on me, heavy and inscrutable. Once again, the room descended into a suffocating silence, as though everyone was holding their breath.

Finally, he spoke.

"Fine."

Belmont gawked in disbelief.

"But—!"

The Duke raised a hand, silencing him with a single gesture. Belmont's mouth snapped shut, though his indignation practically radiated off him.

"Daira is old enough to face the consequences of her actions," the Duke said firmly. "Only time will tell if this was a good decision."

I bowed my head, doing my best to hide the wave of relief washing over me.

"Thank you for your trust, Father."

Belmont let out a frustrated squeak, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Enough about Daira," the Duke said, redirecting his attention. "It's time to deal with you two." His eyes shifted to Edurne and Belmont.

Their faces lit up simultaneously.

"Finally!" Belmont said with a grin, while Edurne squealed in delight.

She wasted no time darting to the center of the office, her movements quick and purposeful as she began rummaging through the mountain of colorful boxes. It didn't take long for her to find one she liked, and with a triumphant smile, she dragged it off to the side. Belmont followed her lead.

"There's got to be something in there for you, too," the Duke said, his tone lighter than before.

"Don't you think I'm a little too old to be getting presents?" Belmont teased, though his hands were already reaching for a box.

"Is that a complaint?" the Duke shot back, arching an eyebrow.

Belmont froze for a split second before his face broke into a sheepish grin.

"Nope. No complaints here."

And with that, he joined Edurne in the treasure hunt, rummaging through the boxes like a child on their birthday. I watched them, my brow furrowing slightly. For a moment, I almost forgot the tension that had filled the room mere moments ago.

Almost.

"It's a dress from Madame Isabel!"

Edurne pulled out a dress so luxurious it practically shimmered in the light. The silk looked impossibly soft, and the intricate design spoke of craftsmanship meant for royalty. Her face lit up with pure, uncontained excitement.

"Thank you, Duke Cyrus!" she exclaimed, clutching the dress to her chest.

"I stopped by Skyline on my way back," the Duke replied, his tone lighter than usual. "The woman at the store mentioned they had just received a new collection."

"Yes! All my friends have been talking about these dresses!" Edurne gushed.

"Either way, you'd look cute in whatever you wore," Belmont said with a grin, his tone uncharacteristically warm.

He turned to his own gift, opening it to reveal a man's necklace adorned with a jewel that bore an uncanny resemblance to my magic earrings. His brow furrowed slightly as he inspected it.

"What spell is engraved on this accessory, Father?" Belmont asked.

"It has none yet," the Duke replied. "I plan to summon a mage from the royal court to engrave the spell of your choice. You'll also have access to the materials I brought back from subduing the monsters of the tower."

Tower?

"I thank you, Father," Belmont said, inclining his head slightly.

"I want to open more gifts!" Edurne's voice was bright with childish glee as she reached for another box.

This continued for several minutes. Edurne tore through box after box, pulling out dresses, jewelry, and other treasures so extravagant I couldn't even name half of them. Belmont joined in, though with slightly more restraint. Still, there were plenty of gifts for him as well—fine weapons, accessories, and trinkets clearly tailored to his tastes.

The Duke, meanwhile, remained seated at his desk, quietly observing their excitement with an expression that bordered on... fondness. It was almost unrecognizable—the same man who had always been so cold and distant to me now appeared completely at ease, indulging Belmont and Edurne as if their joy brought him genuine satisfaction.

But...

"Is there anything else you need, Daira?" the Duke asked suddenly, his tone casual, as if addressing an afterthought.

I blinked, startled by the abruptness of the question. For a moment, I thought perhaps—just perhaps—he might have a gift for me as well. Something small, even insignificant.

But he didn't reach for anything. He didn't even look at me.

"No, Father," I said quietly. "I'll leave now."

I turned and walked to the door. Behind me, the excitement continued unabated. Edurne laughed as she pulled another dress from a box. Belmont offered some offhand comment about another accessory. No one acknowledged me as I left.

I stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind me. And then I stood there, frozen, unmoving.

Why... why did it hurt so much?

"Princess?"

I nearly stumbled into Betia, who was carrying a bucket of murky water and a mop. Her eyes immediately flicked to my face, her expression softening.

"Are you all right?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

"Wha...? Y-Yes, I'm fine, Betia."

"It's just... you look a little sad."

Her words caught me off guard.

"It must be your imagination, Betia. There's nothing for me to be sad about," I replied, brushing her concern aside with a faint smile.

But there was something. I knew it, even if I didn't want to admit it. This wasn't my family. I didn't care for them, and they certainly didn't care for me. Yet, somehow, something inside me cracked, leaving a sharp ache in its wake. Witnessing what I had earlier—how easily I was excluded—had hurt in ways I didn't fully understand.

They hadn't insulted me. They hadn't mistreated me. In fact, it had been one of the most civil interactions I'd ever had with them. And yet, they had found a way to hurt me in a manner far more cutting than any harsh word or cruel gesture.

I had been wrong—so painfully wrong. Just because the Duke hadn't treated me with outright disgust didn't mean anything had changed. No, it only confirmed what Daira and I had always known.

I wasn't part of their family. And I never would be.

That night, sleep evaded me. The pain lingered like a heavy fog, suffocating and relentless. It wasn't about the gifts. I didn't care about dresses or jewelry. What stung was the utter lack of respect for my existence. The way they had so easily ignored me, as though I were a piece of furniture, made me feel small—insignificant.

It even seemed deliberate.

I was left entirely alone. Betia was busy elsewhere, and Alain couldn't leave the training grounds. That damned Belmont had seen to it, putting him through a grueling regimen that left him utterly drained. I couldn't bring myself to be selfish enough to ask him for company when he was barely holding himself together.

So, I hugged my pillows and waited for dawn, staring at the shadows that danced across the ceiling. Not even reciting the periodic table—a trick that had always worked in my past life—could lull me to sleep. When the first light of day finally seeped through the windows, I dressed with a huff and waited for breakfast, gazing out at the pale morning sky.

Betia arrived not long after, carrying a tray.

"Good morning, Princess."

"Hello... Betia," I murmured, my voice flat.

I ate in silence, my mood as stormy as the night before. My hands trembled slightly as I tried to hold the spoon, and I ended up dropping it several times. Frustration bubbled to the surface, and for a moment, I nearly hurled the offending utensil across the room. But somehow, I managed to keep my composure.

Barely.

"Would you like anything else, Princess?" Betia asked softly as I finished eating.

"No, thank you. You can go now," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

But Betia didn't move. She remained rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on me with an intensity I couldn't ignore.

"I said I don't want anything else," I repeated, more firmly this time.

Her hands fidgeted nervously, and I noticed the faintest tremor in her posture.

"Betia, what's wrong?" I asked, my frustration giving way to concern.

Without a word, she reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a small box with a simple, unassuming design. She held it out to me with both hands, her head bowed low in a curtsy.

"F-Forgive me for being so bold, Princess," she stammered. "But I want to give you this."

Curious, I stood and walked over to her, taking the little box from her trembling hands. I opened it carefully, and inside lay a small hair brooch. It was plain, modest, and without any jewels or intricate embellishments. It appeared to be made of silver—light and unassuming. It wasn't expensive, but it wasn't entirely ordinary either.

It was something a commoner would wear.

Betia shifted nervously, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yesterday... I noticed you looked rather sad after leaving your father's office. I saw Lord Belmont and Lady Edurne opening gifts from His Grace, the Duke, and I thought it didn't seem... very fair."

Her words hung in the air, tentative and cautious, like she was stepping across thin ice.

"I-I don't mean to be impertinent!" she added quickly, panic creeping into her voice. "It's not my place to comment on your life or your family, Princess. I'm just a nobody. But I thought... maybe you'd like to receive a gift too."

I froze, staring at the little brooch in my hand.

"I went to Molina as quickly as I could," she continued, her words spilling out like a confession. "I spent nearly all my savings on this. I know it's not much, and it's certainly not the kind of thing you're used to. But it's the best I could afford... I'm so sorry."

I looked down at the brooch again, turning it over carefully in my fingers. The simplicity of the design struck me, and for a moment, I could barely breathe.

"Y-You don't have to wear it!" Betia stammered, mistaking my silence for rejection. "In fact, you don't even have to accept it. It's just a silly thing. Too plain, too easy a gift—oh, Princess?!"

Tears blurred my vision before I realized what was happening. My chest tightened, and I couldn't stop the flood of emotion rising within me. Yes, it was simple. Yes, it was plain. It didn't match any of my dresses, and I couldn't imagine wearing it to any social event without becoming the subject of mockery.

And yet...

Why was I crying?

"Princess! Wha—What's wrong?!" Betia cried out, alarmed.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly, clutching her small frame against mine. Betia froze in shock, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air.

"Thank you, Betia," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. "This is the best gift in the whole world."

I pulled away just enough to see her wide, startled eyes before reaching for the brooch. With shaky fingers, I took it out of its box and carefully pinned it in place. When I turned back to her, I smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile that made her cheeks flush a deep crimson.

"I'll wear it forever."

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed diving deeper into Daira's journey and her growing bond with Betia. Writing this chapter was an emotional experience, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

What did you think about Daira's interactions with her family? And Betia's heartfelt gesture? Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments—I always love reading your feedback!

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