Chapter 1: Prologue
The sound of shattering plates echoed through the Ito mansion, mingling with the hushed murmurs and gossip of servants in the background. Outside the door of Aoki Ito’s lavish bedroom, Celia sat on the floor, her head bowed, her heart weighed down by humiliation. The “ladies-in-waiting” had just shoved her down, breaking the tray, she’d carried with the strawberry sponge cake she’d painstakingly baked… A cake she’d hoped would bring a smile to the house’s young mistress; the mansion’s princess—if only for a moment.
“How many times must I repeat myself, Celia?! Miss Aoki doesn’t need anything made by your filthy hands!” the head lady snapped; her voice laced with disdain. “It’s disgraceful, not to mention insulting!”
Celia remained silent, sweeping up the jagged remains of expensive porcelain into a silver tray, while the other ladies chimed in with their usual venom.
“Exactly! Trash like this isn’t fit for our mistress!” one added.
“Preposterous! As if she’d even consider eating something from you,” hissed another.
Celia’s thoughts swirled in quiet defiance as she tried to tune them out. How ironic, she mused bitterly. They’re not even older than me, most of them my age or barely older. Yet they flaunt their false authority like queens of this mansion.
She straightened her back, holding the tray firmly as their words faded into an irritating buzz in her ears. As she turned to leave, a sharp voice stopped her in her tracks.
“What’s going on here?”
Celia froze, her stomach sinking as the ladies-in-waiting gasped in unison. Her worst fear had materialized.
“Y-Your grace!” The head lady quickly bowed, her voice dripping with manufactured apology. “We deeply regret disturbing you. Please forgive us.”
“Yes, your grace,” another added, scrambling to justify themselves. “We were just reminding Celia of her place—she tried to serve you her horrid sponge cake. Naturally, we couldn’t allow such insolence.”
Celia’s grip tightened on the tray; her knuckles white against the polished silver. The lies burned her ears, but she kept her head down, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of seeing her react.
“Celia,” Aoki’s voice sliced through the air like a blade. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” Celia answered quietly, keeping her back to her.
“Look me in the eye when I’m talking to you!”
The sound of heels clicking against the floor sent a chill down Celia’s spine as Aoki approached. Before she could move, a firm hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around, forcing her to face the young mistress. Celia’s gaze dropped instantly to Aoki’s crimson-painted toes, encased in sleek designer stilettos.
She leaned closer, her fingers digging into Celia’s jaw, forcing her chin up. “Didn’t I make myself clear the last time? You will not turn your back to me when I’m speaking!”
Celia bit back the sharp sting of tears as Aoki’s acrylic nails bit into her skin.
Aoki smirked, her amber eyes glittering with cold amusement. “Now tell me, why would you think this,” she gestured to the tray of broken pieces, “was acceptable?”
Celia inhaled shakily. “The cook wasn’t feeling well, your grace,” she began. “And the others didn’t follow the recipe correctly. I thought—”
“You thought?” Aoki interrupted with a mocking laugh. “You should stop thinking entirely—it’s clearly not your strength. Is this what I’m supposed to eat for breakfast? A sponge cake? Or has your mother’s… unfortunate condition robbed you of all common sense?”
The mention of her mother hit Celia like a punch to the chest. Her head snapped up involuntarily, her eyes blazing with anger. She tightened her grip on the tray, her knuckles trembling under the weight of her suppressed rage.
Aoki noticed and leaned in, her smirk deepening. “What? Did I touch a nerve? It’s barely been two months since she collapsed, hasn’t it? But don’t forget, Celia, it’s because of my family’s generosity that she’s even in that hospital. If it weren’t for us, where would she be?”
Celia’s lips quivered, her heart pounding against her ribs.
“So,” Aoki continued, her voice turning icy. “Learn your place. Never bring me something as pathetic as this again. Do your job properly, or your mother’s treatment will be the first thing I cut. Am I clear?”
After a long, tense silence, Celia forced the words out. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” Aoki shoved her aside, causing Celia to stumble. Without a second glance, she strode away, her entourage of sycophantic ladies following close behind, their cruel laughter echoing in her wake.
“Filthy hands, filthy food,” one of them sneered.
“Utterly shameless,” another giggled.
Celia remained rooted to the spot, her head bowed and her vision blurred with unshed tears. She wanted to scream, to throw the tray, to fight back against the injustice, but the weight of her mother’s situation anchored her in place.
Instead, she turned silently and headed for the kitchen, her shoulders heavy with humiliation. She forced a smile at the greetings of passing servants, but as soon as she was alone, her mask crumbled.
“Mother…” she whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of her own heartbreak.
