A small victory

Elaria was sitting in her room, the sunlight passing through the window casted shadows across the pages of an open notebook.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the quill. Not from fear....no, not anymore, but from the unsettling weight of realization.

The system had appeared before her, translucent blue panels flickering in and out of sight. But it came with rules and restrictions.

---

[SYSTEM NOTICE: Certain actions involving core figures are restricted.]

[Attempts to manipulate, harm, or interfere beyond designated influence will result in forced penalties.]

---

Elaria's stomach twisted.

She had tried to list the strengths and weaknesses of those around her, the powerful figures she needed to navigate. But the moment she wrote down Leon Velchanth, a sudden red glow flashed across the system panel, and the ink beneath his name vanished.

Vanished.

As if her thoughts themselves were being censored.

A chill ran through her.

Even in this life, even with this new knowledge, she was powerless against them.

Her eyes trailed down to her own section, where each of the other noble heirs had power, influence, or a destiny carved in gold, her name stood empty.

No special abilities.

No divine blessings.

No lineage-locked strength.

Nothing.

A pitiful existence.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Fine. If the system dictated her limits, she would learn how to break them. If power wasn't given to her, she would carve her own path.

She tightened her grip on the quill, about to strategize, when...

BANG.

The door slammed open without warning.

Elaria's head snapped up, her heartbeat spiking, someone had entered without knocking.

Her instincts screamed at her, but she forced herself to remain still.

The maid.

Her presence carried an smugness, as if she had done this before.

Elaria's gaze flickered to the tray in the maid's hands.

A single slice of dry bread. A bowl of cold, watered-down soup.

A meal fit for a prisoner.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then...

A slow, cold smile curled on Elaria's lips.

"You, what's your name?"

The maid continued not knowing what's coming next,"Laura".

"Laura,.. I see."

"So this is what you dare serve me!"

The maid flinched, caught off guard by the shift in atmosphere.

"My lady, it is all that was prepared..."

Elaria tilted her head, tapping lightly on her table.

A silent warning.

"Tell me," she murmured, voice deceptively soft. "Are you so bold as to serve this excuse of a meal to your lady, or are you merely foolish?"

The maid stiffened, mouth opening as if to protest, but Elaria cut her off.

Her gaze sharpened, cold as a blade.

"What do you think will happen," she continued, voice slow, deliberate, "if I call for Steward Arvell and tell him you've been treating the Duke's daughter like a beggar? Do you think you'll still have a job by sunrise?"

The color drained from the maid's face.

Elaria knew it then.

These people feared power. Feared consequences.

And she was about to remind them of their place.

She leaned back in her chair, feigning indifference as she sighed. "I suppose I could overlook this. Just... this once."

A pause. She continued.

"But if you ever enter my room uninvited again," her voice softened, yet the threat in it was unmistakable, "and if you ever mistake my patience for weakness, you are going to regret it."

A long silence, thick and suffocating.

The maid swallowed hard.

Her hands trembled around the tray, her knuckles turning white.

"I-I will return with a fresh meal, my lady," she stammered, barely above a whisper.

Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and hurried away, as if she couldn't escape fast enough.

---

[SYSTEM NOTICE: Minor Authority Gained – Servants Will Be Less Defiant.]

[Overall Favorability: +2%]

---

Elaria exhaled slowly.

It was a small victory. But it was a start.

Then she started writing Caelum Ravenous name....