"It's amusing and a bit pathetic—watching this poor woman struggle so desperately to save her little sister. But there's no one to help her."
"What's it to us? Let those arrogant nobles do whatever they please. Our business is staying out of theirs."
Mariel gritted her teeth and clenched her fists beneath the blanket until her hands trembled violently. She was fortunate the covers concealed her completely, and the room remained dark enough that the maids couldn't notice her distress.
"Yeah, it's funny. Watching this proud woman constantly pretend like nothing's wrong while she gets beaten like a dog every single day."
"I remember someone telling me how she didn't make a single sound when Mistress Rebecca's maids—while supposedly adjusting her dress—pierced her all over with sewing needles."
"Yes, I heard that too. Serves her right."
Mariel's face drained of color. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, but she managed to restrain herself.
Only one question lodged in her mind like a splinter.
_Why? Why does it have to be this way? What did my sister do that was so terrible?_
"You can say that again. A noble lady from the most respectable family. But if you strip her naked? There's not a single undamaged spot on her body. She's covered head to toe in scabs and scars—worse than a homeless beggar."
Sarcastic laughter echoed through the room. The sound was so unbearable that Mariel nearly covered her ears.
"If His Highness the Archduke knew how disfigured her body truly is, he'd hardly want to marry her."
"I certainly hope so. This useless girl scarcely deserves the position of Grand Duchess."
"Oh, come now. You'll see—His Excellency will summon a priest, and all her ugliness will vanish as if by magic. Although why bother?"
The cruel laughter rang out again. Mariel felt their hatred with every cell in her small body.
_How did you survive all these years, sister? Among these terrible, hostile people?_
"But what happens if the Archduke actually breaks off the engagement?"
"Then our beauty becomes a laughingstock, and she'll most likely be buried alive in some distant monastery."
"Definitely. She shouldn't even dream of marrying anyone else then. Right?"
While the maids cheerfully picked apart Asella's probable future, Mariel bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. It felt like an eternity had passed since they'd unceremoniously invaded her room.
Finally, the door slammed shut. The sound of retreating footsteps faded, and blessed silence returned.
Mariel stared blankly at the ceiling for a long moment.
And then she burst into silent, anguished tears.
_I will never let this happen._
It was then that she promised herself she would protect her sister by any means necessary.
---
"Mariel... Mariel, what are you thinking about?"
A soft, caring voice pulled the girl from her dark thoughts.
"Hm?"
"Something's troubling you. Your expression looks so..."
"Oh, no!" Mariel shook her head quickly. Then she summoned her brightest smile. "I was just thinking about what we should do now."
Asella's face, which had been regarding her sister with concern, cleared immediately.
"Now we can do whatever we want."
"Really?" Mariel narrowed one eye playfully, burying her remorse deep in her heart where it couldn't be seen. "Then let's not waste another moment!"
---
With the arrival of spring, Benvito's estate bustled with renewed life. The carriage navigated slowly through crowded streets teeming with merchants, shoppers, and street performers.
Asella's only previous opportunities to observe the city had come during obligatory trips to receptions or banquets. Even then, she could only glimpse the world through carriage windows—a spectator forever separated from life by glass.
But now the carriage halted on a street lined with expensive boutiques and elegant shops. The coachman opened the door and politely inquired where his mistress wished to go first.
"To the pastry shop!" Mariel didn't hesitate for even a heartbeat. She smiled radiantly at the coachman. "Take us to the most famous establishment for delicious desserts."
The coachman glanced questioningly toward Lady Benvito. He'd been ordered to accommodate his new mistress's every whim. But Asella was so utterly fascinated by the shop windows—displays she'd never been permitted to examine before—that she didn't even notice his presence.
"Sister! Are you listening? You *said* we could do whatever we wanted today!" Mariel formed her hands into a playful cup beneath her chin and batted her eyelashes with exaggerated sweetness.
Asella, observing this adorable performance, finally emerged from her reverie and smiled at the coachman as well.
"Do everything exactly as this wonderful girl instructs you."
"You heard him! Whatever I command!"
---
A few minutes later, the luxurious carriage pulled up before a three-story building with a uniquely whimsical façade. A considerable crowd had gathered outside, queuing patiently to enter.
Asella's eyes widened with delighted surprise when she finally stepped from the carriage at her younger sister's insistence.
"It's absolutely beautiful!" The words emerged as a breathless exhalation.
Indeed, the establishment resembled an enormous cream-laden cake. The façade had been decorated with pink and white flourishes imitating airy meringue. The columns between sparkling transparent windows resembled intricate whipped cream lacework. And the windows themselves were draped with curtains of fine silver organza that caught the sunlight like spun sugar.
"There's a queue, but I'll secure us a place, Sister!" Before Asella could react, Mariel launched herself forward.
Asella attempted to warn the coachman, but the child impatiently tugged at her hand. Not noticing how Asella's grip loosened from the forceful pull, Mariel rushed ahead at breakneck speed.
"Wait, Mariel! Be careful!"
"Aaah!"
"And where is this little lady rushing in such a hurry?"
Mariel felt someone catch her securely before she could hit the cobblestones, having slipped on the uneven stones.
By that moment, Asella had already reached her side. Forgetting everything else, she knelt before Mariel and turned the girl to face her, carefully examining her for injuries.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?"
"Everything's fine—I didn't even have time to fall! And it's all thanks to this gentleman." Mariel pointed toward the fair-haired man with unusual violet eyes who had steadied her.
Asella, her panic finally subsiding, rose to her feet and brushed off her dress.
"Thank you for your assistance. It was only through your quick reaction that my little sister avoided harm."
"Oh, think nothing of it. It required minimal effort. No need for gratitude." The man offered a pleasant smile.
"Your Highness!" The coachman approached Asella, having secured the carriage and tethered the horse. "I apologize for not informing you sooner. In any establishment throughout the duchy, the finest accommodations are always reserved for you and His Highness. You need simply follow the staff's guidance."
Asella nodded to the coachman and turned back toward the helpful stranger.
"Your Highness, you don't recognize me. I am Roshan."
"...Roshan?" The girl attempted to place where she'd heard that name.
She studied the man more carefully, but he merely smiled with vague amusement.
Meanwhile, Mariel was already loudly demanding attention.
"Tell me quickly—what's the most delicious thing here?"
"Strawberry mille-feuille. It's our most famous and expensive dessert."
"Mille-feuille?"
Before following Mariel inside, Asella turned once more to the man.
"Thank you again for your help, Mr. Roshan."
"We'll meet again soon, my lady."
Asella watched him depart for a moment, puzzling over the peculiar certainty in his words.
"Sister! Why are you standing there? Hurry up!"
---
## — The Third Floor —
The pastel-colored interior created the enchanting illusion of existing within a fairytale world. Mariel gasped with delight at nearly every detail.
"Your Highness, if you'll follow me." The waiter led them expertly to the third floor via a separate staircase, bypassing the common dining room, which was quite crowded despite the early hour. The third floor—reserved exclusively for distinguished guests—stood nearly empty.
"Asella, just look at this! It's a cloud-shaped pillow!" Mariel settled lightly onto the plush sofa and embraced the cushion with obvious delight.
The room offered breathtaking views. Windows on all sides transformed the space into something resembling an elegant terrace, flooding it with pleasant spring sunlight. That soft yet vibrant illumination—something all living beings are permitted to enjoy only in early spring—seemed to infuse everything with golden warmth.
From the third floor, one could see distant groves and beautiful gardens spreading across the vast estate—scenery that rivaled even the capital's most pretentious displays.
The soft mint-colored sofas surrounding each table could comfortably accommodate approximately six people.
"This must be the finest space in the entire establishment," Asella concluded without difficulty.
_A person named Benvito will always possess access to the best. And Lady Benvito, naturally. Everything is available._
Except her real name.
**Charts.**
The glorious name she'd been destined to inherit from her mother—now forbidden to her even beyond death.
"You will bear *this* name for the remainder of your life."
No. Asella no longer possessed a true name.
Benvito was simply a brand. A mark confirming she was the property of Grand Duke Calix Benvito. And if he wished to remove this designation, he could do so at any moment.
"May I take your order?"
A pleasant voice pulled her from dark contemplation.
Asella noticed the menu had been resting on the table before her for some time.
But Mariel gave her no opportunity to collect herself.
"Of course!" She beamed brilliantly and declared: "Strawberry mille-feuille. And the largest one you have."
Asella's eyes crinkled with happiness, observing her little companion's excellent spirits.
"And also lemon tarts and warm tea. They taste wonderful together."
"It shall be done, young miss. Please allow us a few moments."
However, shortly thereafter, the waiter returned with a distinctly ashen expression.
"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but this particular order cannot be prepared quickly. The ingredients required for this dessert have been depleted, and obtaining fresh supplies will require time." The unfortunate man attempted to maintain a polite smile, but his anxiety was too evident for the expression to appear convincing.
"And how long must we wait?"
"I believe the ingredients should arrive within the hour."
"What a disappointment!" Mariel released a dejected sigh, her eyes already glistening with nascent tears.
"Don't be upset, Mariel. It's been so terribly long since we've talked alone together. You'll see—time passes quickly when we're enjoying conversation." Asella stroked the girl's hand soothingly.
"Forgive me for interrupting, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation."
Mr. Roshan materialized before them once more.