A Disgrace of house Velchanth

The Duke's office was suffocatingly dark.

Heavy drapes blocked out the morning light, casting long, sharp shadows across the towering bookshelves. The scent of ink lingered in the air.

Behind an imposing desk, Duke Aldric Velchanth sat, his posture rigid as his fingers glided over documents. His expression was carved from stone,...unyielding, indifferent.

He did not acknowledge her presence.

Elaria stood in the doorway, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. Why am I trembling? No, this is not me.

Still, she squared her shoulders and took a cautious step forward. The wooden floor beneath her slippered feet creaked, the sound startlingly loud in the oppressive silence.

"Father, I—"

A scoff. Low and sharp.

"Father?"

His hand stilled. His voice, dripping with disdain, sliced through the air like a blade.

"A disgrace like you dares to call me Father?"

Elaria froze.

For the first time, the Duke leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes finally meeting hers.

They were empty.

Void of warmth.

"Who gave you permission to speak so casually?" His tone was devoid of emotion, but the weight of his words pressed against her like an unseen force.

Her lips parted, but her throat closed.

His eyes had no emotion. No disappointment. No frustration.

Just absolute rejection.

Like she was nothing to him.

Her fingers curled into her skirts, trying to ground herself, trying not to let the sudden ache in her chest consume her. "I...I'm sorry, Your Grace."

He exhaled sharply, irritation flickering across his face like a passing shadow. "I heard you made a scene at Duke Caelum Ravenous' estate."

Elaria's breath caught.

Duke Caelum, isn't he one of the male leads?!

Yes! And Elaria...she loved him madly.

And...

Her father's gaze remained impassive, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. "Tell me, how much more humiliation do you intend to bring upon this house?"

A familiar sense of fear, but it's not her's it's this body. But she wasn't the same as the Elaria before. She knew what was coming.

"I..." she started, but the Duke didn't let her finish.

"Silence."

The single word struck like a whip.

She flinched, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

The Duke lifted his quill, already resuming his writing as if their conversation had never happened. "You are grounded for one month," he stated. "Your allowance is revoked. Do not leave the estate. Do not embarrass me further."

And just like that, she was dismissed.

Elaria stood motionless, the words settling over her like a suffocating weight.

He didn't ask for her side of the story.

Didn't even let her explain.

Didn't even look at her.

She was nothing.

A faint burning sensation stung at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let it show.

Elaria had no father. No allies. No power.

She turned stiffly, her movements controlled and precise, as if that alone could keep the cracks in her composure from spreading.

As she reached the doorway, a quiet sound made her pause.

A low chuckle.

Her gaze flickered sideways.

The butler.

Standing just outside, his head slightly bowed, but his lips, curved into a barely hidden smirk.

A wave of humiliation burned through her.

'See where you stand now, my lady?' his expression seemed to say.

Her fingers clenched.

How long had it been like this? When had even the servants learned they could mock her openly?

She wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. To demand respect. To scream.

But she had no power.

Her jaw tightened as she stepped past him, refusing to react.

And then...

A dark shadow loomed over her path.

She halted.

A tall figure stood before her, blocking her way.

Leon Velchanth.

Her older brother.

He was dressed impeccably in the military uniform of House Velchanth, the embroidered crest of their family gleaming against the black fabric.

His face was a mirror of their father's sharp and refined, as if sculpted from the same cold stone. But where the Duke had been indifferent, Leon's golden eyes held open disgust.

The hallway felt too small. Too suffocating.

Her fingers twitched.

Then...

A flicker of light caught her vision.

A screen.

A translucent, glowing panel hovered just above her line of sight, appearing out of nowhere.

[SYSTEM NOTICE: Male Interest Detected.]

[Leon Velchanth – Strength: 90]

[Favorability: -5%]

Elaria barely had time to process the words before...

[-6%]

[-7%]

[-8%]

Her breath hitched.

His favorability was actively dropping.

TCH !

Leon clicked his tongue in distaste.

Then, without a word, he stepped past her.

Like she wasn't even worth acknowledging.

Elaria stood there, frozen in place.

Her brother despised her.

Just what kind of life had the original Elaria Velchanth lived… to be hated this much?

A bitter taste filled her mouth.

This wasn't a misunderstanding. This wasn't simple sibling rivalry. This was loathing.