THIRD CHAPTER: The Smile Before The Storm

"He must still be asleep. He's not really allowed to leave his room and he's often sick, so he sleeps in a lot. The poor thing," said Alena softly.

Both girls quietly opened the door to Kirien's room and tiptoed inside. The room was neatly arranged, bathed in a soft glow from the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, casting a gentle warmth in the air.

Beneath a mountain of plush toys on the bed lay the youngest heir, looking as delicate and lovely as a storybook prince. His hair was tousled, a soft golden halo on the pillow, and his lashes fanned across his cheeks like tiny brushstrokes.

While admiring the sleeping boy, Alena whispered, "He looks so pretty even while sleeping."

"Sleeping prince!" both girls giggled in unison.

Their voices stirred Kirien from his slumber. His eyes fluttered open, slow and lazy, until they fully focused—and then he smiled, bright and familiar. Without hesitation, he sprang toward Veralyn with glee.

"Sister Veralyn!"

"Aww, good morning, my little apple pie," Veralyn cooed, pulling him into a warm hug, her hand gently ruffling through his messy bed hair.

"Hey~ don't forget me, you two!" Alena chimed in with a playful pout.

"Oh, come on—I am his favorite, after all," Veralyn teased, smirking.

"I'll marry you both! Don't fight—I love you equally!" Kirien declared with a wide grin, his eyes sparkling.

"Oh my, he'll be breaking hearts when he grows up," Alena joked, laughing as she leaned against the bedpost.

"No, he won't," Veralyn said, her voice calm, her expression steady.

"He's my brother, after all."

She said it with quiet certainty—as if it were the most natural truth in the world. And to her, it was. Bloodlines and titles didn't matter. To her, Kirien was hers to protect.

The Baron and Baroness often neglected him, blaming his fragile health for keeping their distance. But Veralyn stepped in—filling the silence with care, the emptiness with love. She quietly took on the role of a parent, and Alena, always nearby, became his sister too.

Alena watched them—Veralyn holding Kirien as if she were holding her entire world. His small arms clung to her as if she was the only safe place he knew.

In a world as cruel and cold as theirs, this bond felt like something rare. Something soft and sacred.

"Once I get my parents' land back," Alena whispered, her eyes softening, "let's all live together. Just the three of us. Somewhere warm. With cinnamon rolls."

Veralyn looked over her shoulder, smiling. "Somewhere we don't have to pretend."

Alena was just four when her grandmother brought her to the mansion—a quiet child with big, searching eyes. She'd lost both parents that year—driven to suicide after being scammed into selling their only land. The pain had buried itself deep, but she carried it like a promise.

Now, her dream was simple and defiant. Save enough. Get that land back. And build something new on it—a little bakery with her name in the window and love in every corner. A place her parents would've been proud of.

They played for a while—laughing, tumbling across the plush carpet, pretending to duel with toy swords and build kingdoms out of stuffed animals. For a moment, time bent. It felt like childhood again.

Until Alena sat up, eyes wide. "My Lady! We'll be late—you have to get ready for afternoon tea!"

"But I want to play more," Kirien pouted, clutching Veralyn's hand tighter.

"The Lady will be furious if she sees you with us," Alena warned gently.

"Well, Grandmother won't mind," Veralyn replied, brushing his bangs back with a soft smile. "And who cares about the Lady when her mother is on our side?"

Alena narrowed her eyes. "You're not thinking about the consequences?"

Veralyn rose and dusted off her dress. "She asked me to ask Grandmother for a favor. That's why she didn't send the maids to fetch me earlier. She's definitely scheming something. I just don't know what yet."

Alena crossed her arms. "Still... how are you never scared of her? Even the senior maids walk on eggshells."

Veralyn scoffed lightly. "She's clearly using me. So shouldn't she be the one scared? What if I stopped cooperating?"

She said it with boldness—but it was mostly armor. Beneath that tone was a girl barely seventeen, still piecing together who she was in a house of secrets.

She wasn't fearless. She was just learning how to survive.

"Now," she smiled, changing the subject, "let's get Kirien all dressed up, shall we?"

With laughter and soft voices, they helped the boy change—buttoning his pale blue shirt, fixing his sleeves, brushing his hair flat, and tying a small ribbon at his collar. He grinned like a kitten being pampered.

Then it was Veralyn's turn.

She slipped into a soft-colored gown, brushed her hair into place, fastened a necklace, and chose matching earrings. Finally, she slid on a ring—one that looked like it belonged to another time. Its metal was dulled by age, its center stone chipped, but she wore it like a relic.

It was her mother's. A secret comfort. A silent promise.

Once everyone was ready, they made their way to the greenhouse—an ornate structure tucked into the front garden. Though rarely used, it was built to impress—a decorative jewel the Baron and Baroness flaunted for their guests.

Kirien clung to Veralyn's hand with his cat-like grip. She gave him a reassuring smile.

To a twelve-year-old like him, the greenhouse was a dream. Sunlight shimmered through glass panes above them, and green vines curled down from ceiling to floor. The white table and chairs gleamed. Teacups sat in neat rows. Cakes, tarts, and finger sandwiches waited on porcelain trays.

"Are we playing tea party?!" Kirien gasped.

"No, we—"

"Yes," Veralyn interrupted with a smooth, knowing look toward Alena.

Alena caught on fast. "Yeah!" she chimed in.

"You two are the fairies I invited for tea today, okay?" Kirien beamed.

Veralyn laughed softly. "Okay, little prince."

And for a short while, they played along. Sitting down with poised hands. Pretending to sip. Pretending to be far, far away from all this.

Veralyn kept smiling, though her eyes flicked once to the edge of the path. Something gnawed in her chest. The silence was too perfect.

The joy lasted only a moment longer—

Just long enough to linger, then break.

It shattered the instant she appeared.

The Lady stood at the entrance of the greenhouse, her expression unreadable, her posture sharp as glass.

Kirien froze.

His small fingers, still curled around Veralyn's, went cold. His wide, bright eyes met his mother's—and dimmed at once.

And just like that, the fairytale was over.