Chapter 1
Ivy left everything behind amidst the happiness of Elaria and Eugene.
Yet, even thousands of miles away, her mind remained clouded with jealousy—or perhaps it was more accurate to say she had become imprisoned by it.
Every desperate attempt to surpass Elaria had earned her nothing but humiliation instead of the admiration, fame, love, and recognition she had always craved.
So she handed the responsibility of Sapphire Sole to her father and departed for the Far East, accompanied only by her loyal maid, Lina, a few servants, and trusted guards.
She loved Sapphire Sole. It was far more than a luxury shoe brand. It was the empire she had built with relentless ambition, ruthless competition, and years of envying Elaria. Entrusting it to someone else felt like leaving behind a part of her own soul.
Yet after pulling the trigger and shooting Elaria in the leg, one painful truth began to haunt her.
Killing the person one envied would never satisfy jealousy.
Deep within, she knew that even if Elaria had died that day, the emptiness inside her would have remained.
She sat upon the wooden terrace of a quiet countryside manor overlooking endless rice fields. The evening breeze wandered through the swaying stalks, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming wildflowers.
Birds returned to their nests while distant temple bells echoed faintly through the valley.
A small wooden table stood beside her. A porcelain teapot, still releasing thin wisps of steam, rested beside two untouched cups. One belonged to Ivy. The other had been prepared by Lina, who stood a respectful distance away, knowing better than to interrupt her mistress whenever silence became her companion.
Scattered across the table lay several unfinished shoe sketches. A passing breeze lifted one sheet into the air before it drifted onto the floor.
Lina instinctively stepped forward to retrieve it.
“No.”
Ivy’s quiet voice stopped her.
“Leave it.”
The paper continued to dance with the wind until it disappeared beyond the terrace.
Ivy didn’t bother to watch it go.
Instead, her gaze remained fixed upon the vast orange sun slowly sinking toward the horizon.
“Hah...”
A weary sigh escaped her lips.
What had she truly wanted?
To become as famous as Elaria. To possess the same extraordinary genius. To dominate the shoe industry.
Those dreams had consumed her entire youth. She had clawed her way upward with unwavering determination until Sapphire Sole stood among the world’s leading luxury shoe houses.
Yet first place had always remained beyond her reach.
“So what if I was jealous?” she whispered.
“I still am.”
Her brows knitted together as the last rays of sunlight brushed across her face.
“Aren’t you jealous of the moon?” she asked the sun in silence, “Yet every evening, you surrender your place, allowing her to inherit the sky.”
A bitter smile curved upon her lips, her eyes were fixed on the sun.
“You know... humans aren’t like you. We don’t step aside. We don’t willingly share the spotlight. Not even the smallest piece of it.”
Her fingers slowly tightened around the edge of the wooden table.
“We cling to it. We compete for it. And when someone shines brighter...”
“...we envy them.”
She lowered her eyes to the abandoned shoe sketches scattered around her feet.
“So perhaps I’ll remain jealous...”
Her voice faded into the evening breeze.
“...until I discover why none of this was ever enough.”
A strange blue bird came flitting in and settled on the terrace, while Ivy remained fixated on her thoughts of jealousy. The bird seemed to bore its eyes into Ivy. A strange chill ran through her, and she shifted her gaze from the sun to the bird, keeping her expression as emotionless as she could—static, stagnant, fearless, and fiery.
In return, she felt a crawling sensation creep across her skin. The bird looked straight into her eyes, as though it were observing her. Time seemed to slow, and they both became lost in the moment, as though Ivy were treading upon ivy vines, each step an examination, each misstep a sentence—ready to be judged, punished, or vindicated.
The creepy moment in which the bird and Ivy remained fixated on each other was broken by the chirping of other birds, which flew in flocks toward their nests. Ivy’s eyes shifted toward them, and the strange blue bird flew away, almost as if it were smiling.
She watched it soar high into the sky, its features cutting through the air like oars parting the sea.
So majestic. So captivating.
But a moment later, her gaze settled once more on the setting sun.
The final edge of the sun slipped beneath the horizon.
Darkness did not answer her. Neither did the wind.
Only silence remained.
Lina quietly lit the lantern beside the table, its warm glow replacing the vanished sunlight.
“The tea has gone cold, Miss Ivy,” she said softly.
Ivy looked at the untouched porcelain cup for a long moment before wrapping her fingers around it.
It was cold.
She drank it anyway.
For the first time in her life, the question lingering within her heart was no longer How do I surpass Elaria?
It was...
What is it that I’m truly searching for?
----------
The days slipped by in quiet repetition.
Then, unexpectedly, Ivy made a friend. Her name was Maria.
Several years younger than Ivy, Maria nevertheless looked almost the same age. She possessed the kind of warmth that filled every silence before it had a chance to settle. Words seemed to spill effortlessly from her lips, carrying stories, laughter, and endless excitement over the simplest things.
Ivy rarely replied with more than a few words. Maria never seemed to mind.
Every morning, she appeared at the countryside manor with another adventure in mind. One day it was wandering through flower fields in search of rare blossoms. Another day it was feeding koi fish in a nearby temple pond.
Sometimes she climbed hills just to watch the clouds, insisting each one resembled a different animal.
As the chief’s daughter, Maria had grown up treating the entire countryside as her playground.
Ivy simply followed. Not because she was interested. Because she had nothing better to do.
One afternoon, the two of them sat beneath the shade of a broad maple tree in the manor’s backyard. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh grass while tea rested untouched upon the small wooden table between them.
“I brought something today!” Maria announced excitedly.
From her woven basket, she pulled out several skeins of yarn. One of them immediately caught Ivy’s attention.
It was sapphire blue. Deep. Rich. Almost luminous beneath the afternoon sun.
Maria smiled as she held it up.
“From today onward, we’re making cardigans together! Handmade crochet cardigans are quite famous around here.”
She placed a crochet hook into Ivy’s hand. To Maria’s surprise, Ivy didn’t look confused. Instead, she adjusted her grip with practiced ease.
“You know how to crochet?” Maria asked, blinking.
“A little.”
“A little?” Maria laughed. “That doesn’t look like ‘a little.’”
Without another word, Maria began weaving the first stitches.
Ivy didn’t move. Her eyes remained fixed on Maria’s fingers as they looped the sapphire-colored yarn with effortless rhythm.
The movements were so familiar...
...that they quietly unlocked a memory she had spent years refusing to revisit.
----------
“I think this one will fit perfectly.”
A gentle voice filled the room.
Her mother sat by the window, sunlight resting upon her smiling face as she crocheted a tiny cream-colored sweater.
“What are you making?” little Ivy asked, climbing onto the sofa beside her.
“A sweater.”
“For who?”
Her mother rested a hand over her swollen belly before smiling softly.
“For the baby.”
From behind the newspaper in his hands, her father chuckled.
“You still wanted a girl?”
“Of course.”
“And why not a boy?”
Her mother laughed.
“Because I want Ivy to have a little friend.”
She lovingly stroked the unfinished sweater.
“She gets lonely sometimes.”
“She always disappears into her own little world.”
Her father smiled.
“That’s true. She’s far more serious than children her age.”
Little Ivy sat frozen. A friend? A little sister?
Her tiny hands slowly curled into fists.
No.
She didn’t want a sister.
Not ever.
She wanted to remain her parents’ only little girl forever.
If another daughter came...
...would Mother still smile at her like this?
Would Father still lift her into his arms first?
Would they still call her their princess?
Or would she become...
...less?
The thought lodged itself deep inside her little heart like a splinter.
That night, with her tiny hands folded beneath her chin, Ivy whispered her first desperate prayer.
“Please...”
“Give me a baby brother. Not a sister. Please, God. I don’t want a little sister. I want to stay my parents' only baby girl.”
From that day onward, something changed inside little Ivy.
She began hiding her favorite dolls, her ribbons, even the tiny porcelain tea set her father had gifted her on her birthday. One by one, she tucked them away in places only she knew.
They were hers.
She wouldn’t let the unborn baby touch them.
If Mother and Father were going to share their love...
...she wouldn’t share her belongings.
Even her mother’s embrace no longer felt the same.
Whenever her mother spoke excitedly about the baby, Ivy would quietly walk away. She stopped resting her head in her mother’s lap, stopped showing her new drawings, and answered her with short, distant replies.
At first, her mother thought it was merely a childish mood.
But as the days passed, the pattern became impossible to ignore.
One evening, while knitting a baby sweater, she glanced toward Ivy, who sat silently in the corner, hugging her favorite doll with unusual possessiveness.
Understanding dawned on her all at once.
A helpless smile appeared on her lips.
“Oh...”
“So that’s what’s troubling you.”
She lowered her gaze to the half-finished crocheted sweater in her lap and gently ran her fingers over the soft stitches.
“A complete xerox of Nikolas,” she murmured to herself with an affectionate sigh.
“So quick to become jealous...”
“...even when blessed with everything.”
Her smile carried no mockery.
Only concern.
She knew that same fear too well. She had seen it in her husband before.
Now...
...she was seeing it in her daughter.
