Chapter 7
My mouth fell open in shock at what he said. I had no idea he, too, was trapped in a situation where he had to go through with this for his own sake. It's saddening, but I can't give myself away—because I still have dreams. I refuse to marry an old man—that's exactly what I've been trying to avoid.
He doesn't seem to know anything about Rosa, but it's not impossible that he might eventually find the woman he's searching for. I slumped my shoulders in exhaustion. My mind is tired from trying to process all of this. I'm barely adjusting to palace life, yet another burden has just been added.
I thought I could finally be at peace now that I'm far from my stepmother—but no. I'm even more anxious because my client's son is here, and he's looking for me. Even if I gave myself to his father, I know I wouldn't be happy. I'd just become a disgraceful kind of woman—no better than my own mother.
I'm here in the palace now. I don't know what reward awaits me at the end of this competition, but I'm certain it's my only chance to lift myself up. One day, I will be the one they admire. And I will make sure that no one will ever have the right to look down on me or hurt me again.
"You're smart—I can tell from the way you speak. Why don't you just leave, go far away? Or tell them you already love someone else?"
"That won't work. He'll still oppose it. You don't know him—he'll do everything to marry me off, especially if Mira succeeds in finding Rosa." His eyes widened, darting nervously around me.
"My artwork sales will plummet if people learn I'm married. Most of my patrons are women. And I don't love Minerva—or anyone in your family, Rowela."
"Then let me be honest: I don't like you either, Sebastian. And I won't help you. Just let me die instead." I gave him a tight-lipped smile, eyes somber as I looked at him. I slowly stood and dusted myself off.
"Wait! Where are you going?"
"I'm heading back to my room. The rules say women must return to their quarters before nightfall." He sighed and quickly stood up.
"I'll walk you back."
"Thank you, Sebastian."
"It's nothing, my lady."
When we reached my room, I noticed how often he looked at me—his gaze resembled my stepmother's. My heart pounded with fear. Had he figured it out? Could he tell I'm Rosa?
"Is something wrong?" I asked nervously.
"No, nothing really. I just… your eyes seem familiar. Beautiful, like stars in the night sky." His tone was sarcastic, his lip curled in a smirk.
I looked away and focused on the door handle. My hand was cold as I turned it—then I felt his warm breath on my neck, making my hair stand on end.
"Tomorrow, I'll be your dance partner."
I had just opened the door. My legs felt frozen from the chill of his words. What's happening? I had a terrible feeling—like he knew I was Rosa.
I heard the sound of his shoes fading down the hallway. Once I was sure he was gone, I scanned the corridor and burst into quiet tears. He knew. I didn't expect him to be clever enough to uncover my secret. Did I give myself away too easily? I couldn't recall what mistake had exposed me to him.
I collapsed onto the soft mattress. It was the first time I had ever slept in such comfort—I had always slept on the floor or a wooden bed with nothing but a thin blanket to shield me from the cold. Even now, with a pillow and thick sheets, my heart found no rest. It felt like this might be my last day in the world.
I wanted to turn off the lights—they were too bright. I was used to sleeping in the dark. But I couldn't get up. My body felt as heavy as the burden in my chest. I stared at the ceiling, tears falling as I clutched the blanket tight.
The next morning, my eyelids felt heavy, unwilling to open. I rubbed them gently and slowly opened my left eye. I saw a blurry figure of a woman. I opened my other eye, and the image became clearer—but still faint. I rubbed again until my vision sharpened.
That's when I noticed the blanket rising up over my unchanged dress—one I had worn since arriving here. I quickly turned to the woman with curly hair, smiling at me.
"Ahh! Who are you?! Why are you in my room?!" I shouted, stepping back in alarm.
"Don't be afraid, my lady! I've been assigned as your servant—your attendant for this competition." She bowed her head and shut her eyes tight, probably stunned by my scream.
I froze, recalling something I read: Every girl in this palace competition is assigned a servant or attendant.
"I don't need an attendant! I was a servant myself. I can manage alone. Leave!"
"My lady, I cannot. This is my duty—I must not abandon my mistress!" She stayed bowed, though tears were already falling, and her voice was hoarse from crying.
I held my temple, overwhelmed with guilt. I didn't mean to yell at her.
"And you are…?" I asked, studying her curly hair, aquiline nose, and fair skin.
"Fiora Delvara," she said through tears, wiping her cheeks.
"Fiora?"
She looked up, closely studying my face. She resembled the young Fiora I once knew. Her hair was thicker now, she was taller, and even more beautiful.
"R-Rowela!"
"Fiora, it's really you!"
She grabbed both my hands, and we bounced with joy like children reunited after years. Truly, it had been three years since we last saw each other. I never thought our paths would cross again. Tears welled in her eyes as she hugged me.
"I can't believe you're here in the palace," she said, pulling back but smiling brightly.
"I'm sorry for earlier. By the way, how have you been? Where do you live now?"
Sadness clouded her eyes, though she kept smiling as if life hadn't worn her down.
"After we left this place, things got worse for me and my father. We tried moving, but bandits kept stealing our earnings. Our business failed, and eventually, I chose to become a servant here."
I wiped her face, still wet with tears. She, too, had suffered. So much had changed in three years—but the happiness of seeing her again felt exactly the same. I helped her sit on the mattress, then asked:
"How did you end up in this competition?"
"It was supposed to be Myra. But she refused, so my stepmother gave the invitation to me."
"Are they still cruel to you?"
"Hmm… I can't say. Lately, they've been acting oddly kind."
That hug I received from my stepmother—was that real affection? For a moment, it felt like I had a mother.
"Well, that's good to hear! Oh no—we forgot! You need to attend breakfast today with the other contestants. The king will be there."
"I didn't know anything about that!"
She rushed to prepare my clothes. I quickly cleaned myself with a damp cloth, then slipped into a blue gown with a revealing neckline. The fabric shimmered like crystal, paired with sparkling heeled sandals.
Fiora styled my hair in soft curls around my face, then brushed red tint on my lips and brown pigment on my eyelids. When I saw myself in the mirror, I looked like a real woman. I only lacked a wig—and I'd look exactly like Rosa.
"Wait…"
I was about to speak when someone knocked. Fiora opened the door.
"Rowela." It was Sebastian's voice.
He caught my reflection in the mirror—and smiled smugly.
I quickly wiped the red tint from my lips, shocking Fiora.
"Are you ready?"
"Y-yes."
"Rowela, that doesn't suit—"
"This is fine," I cut her off.
"Your attendant is right. Let her do her job," Sebastian said smoothly. I stared at Fiora, who looked just as confused as I felt.
I had no choice but to let her reapply the red tint. It felt like needles in my chest—Sebastian's gaze never left my reflection.
Once done, I reluctantly approached him. He smiled and looped my hand into his arm.
"Don't be nervous, Rowela."
I kept my eyes on the path ahead. He had planned this. He's cunning. I never imagined his polite act masked his true intentions. I had no choice but to descend the stairs with him—every contestant needed a partner.
Before we even reached the bottom, I could see all the elegantly dressed women gathered. Many were stunning—some were even princesses from other kingdoms. And me? A servant, forced to take Myra's place.
The guests were cheerful. The competitors, too. But fear gripped me—fear of what Sebastian might do now that he knew I was Rosa.
Sebastian held me tightly. When I nearly stumbled, he caught me.
"Careful," he whispered.
I had to stay composed—no matter how much shame I feared.
"I need a favor from you."
"What is it?"
"I thought about what you said last night."
"And?"
"You're the answer to my problem, Rowela."
"No," I whispered, trying to pull away from his arm.
If I get disqualified, my plans will fall apart.
"This is the only way I can think of."
"You'll ruin my reputation," I hissed back.
My dreams—my future—would be destroyed by someone as deceptive as him.
"I have to do this. My father is here. I want him to praise me, to be proud in front of everyone."
No… this can't happen…
"Please, Rowela. I don't want to marry yet. I still want to experience other beautiful women. I'm a man, after all—I don't want to be tied down. Besides, I refuse to marry your sister Minerva." He grinned, clutching my hand tightly.
I trembled with rage. With each step, my fear drained my strength. My knees grew weak. I glanced around constantly, trying to steady my nerves.
My stepmother's brow was raised in suspicion as she saw me holding hands with Sebastian. His father, meanwhile, looked stunned—unable to blink as he stared at me.
"Father."
"Is that her?"
"Yes, Father."
"Well done, son. Very well done."
I glanced at my stepmother, who had tears in her eyes.
Did I see that right? Was she crying? Is she truly hurt—or is this part of her plan all along?
She's the reason Sebastian found me. She brought me here. She destroyed the dreams of the girl she enslaved for years. I'm sure of it—this is all her doing. She has no right to cry in front of me.
"How are you enjoying your stay here in the palace… Rosa?"
They planned everything. And this—this was their trap to expose me…