She hated that boy.

She hated his smile.

And more than anything, she hated those clean, untainted eyes.

The carriage sped away. The boy seemed to sense the gaze and turned his head, but he only caught the retreating shadow of the carriage. Thinking of his mother’s upcoming birthday, he began to wonder what gift he should prepare; he couldn't keep playing around like this.

Upon arriving at the manor, Solene followed closely behind the man. Her mother was wrapped tightly in a cloak and carried across the man’s chest, leaning against his heart.

Suddenly, a fierce, hostile gaze locked onto her. A boy slightly younger than her was glaring with unmistakable enmity.

A shiver of fear ran through Solene. She tried to stay close to her mother but was abruptly stopped by a servant.

Two rows of maids and manservants stood in perfect formation, bowing their heads slightly. Their posture reminded Solene of the orderly lines of ants in the backyard. Organized, yet unsettling. Their faces were devoid of emotion—numb and cold.

Soon, the maids took charge of her with practiced efficiency. They bathed her in a tub, massaged her skin with rose-scented oils, dressed her, and styled her hair in one seamless sequence.

Her room seemed as if it had been waiting for her for a long time. It was filled with delicate teddy bears and various glass vases. Pink roses bloomed in the vases, filling the air with a captivating fragrance.

The vanity was covered in a dazzling array of jewelry. Solene sat on the soft bed as if in a dream, pinching the doll in her hand and then her own cheek to ensure this wasn't an illusion.

She walked to the dressing table. Earlier, while the maids were attending to her, she hadn't dared to look at herself closely, only asking curious questions about the tools they used. Though the maids answered, they couldn't quite hide the disdain in their eyes. Solene didn't care. It was so warm here, giving her a sense of peace she had never felt before.

The fire in the hearth crackled, releasing a faint scent of rose oil. A maid told her that a special magical potion was dripped onto the wood to maintain the fragrance.

The Solene in the mirror was beautiful and ethereal. Her looks were rare even among the high nobility. After finishing her makeover, the maids couldn't help but gasp in genuine, unmaskable admiration.

She curiously picked up a small handbell. A maid had told her that ringing it would bring servants to her side and that a personal lady's maid would eventually be assigned to her.

Solene stroked the bell gently. This was her first time touching the fabric of power. A faint smile touched her lips as she admired her reflection.

Her mother and Earl Dagon were soon married.

Earl Dagon—the founder of the casinos and the wealthiest man in the Inner City. His fortune seemed bottomless; it was nothing but gold upon gold. He owned vast mines and controlled nearly every gemstone merchant in the capital.

The wedding was grand and romantic, with rose petals dancing in the air. Yet Solene’s thoughts drifted back to that cold room and the gambling tickets flying in the wind.

In the past, the freezing draft had carried debt through the house; now, a warm breeze carried rose petals.

She now had a younger brother named Caleb. His temperament was erratic, and he wore every emotion on his sleeve. Just like his name—Caleb—he was like a clean, pure gemstone. Beautiful, but easily shattered.

In a fit of impulse, he pushed her mother down the stairs and was subsequently locked away by his father. Solene had witnessed the entire event; she knew her mother had fallen on purpose. She chose silence, feeling a flicker of secret joy.

Watching Caleb’s eyes redden as he desperately tried to defend himself, she suppressed a smile and lowered her head to continue reading her book.

To win her stepfather's favor, she worked hard at her drawing, presenting her art to him and praising his handsome features. With every soft call of "Father," Earl Dagon’s attitude toward her thawed.

Among the nobility, Earl Dagon was considered mild-tempered, and his public reputation was decent. But he was a noble born of merchant blood; he could never be as pure as he appeared on the surface.

From the way he educated her—requiring only simple literacy, painting, and dance—it was clear that his "kindness" was far from simple.