She held the knife.
The cold metal pressed against her palm, hidden carefully in her sleeve. No one noticed as she slipped it into her pocket during breakfast. Her heart thudded in her chest like a drumbeat of dread and confusion. She paced her chambers slowly, her thoughts crawling into dark corners again.
Would it be better to end it? This life full of loneliness and disdain?
Would anyone even miss her?
Her fingers trembled around the blade. Slowly, she sat on the edge of her bed, pulling the knife out again and staring at it. It reflected her pale, expressionless face.
The world had given her nothing.
Now, it only mocked her.
She tightened her grip, the weight of her emotions ready to spill over—
But something in her chest held her back. A weak spark.
She let out a shaking breath and with all the strength she could muster, flung the knife across the room. It clattered loudly against the wall and slid beneath a cabinet.
"I won't die like this," she whispered.
She walked to the door and called one of her personal maids. A shy girl named Lanyi entered, bowing low.
"Bring me every newspaper you can find," the main character said flatly, her tone leaving no room for refusal. "And I want updates—on the court, the nobles, the palace—everything that happens in this place."
Lanyi hesitated. "Miss… that kind of request... it's dangerous. If I'm caught—"
"I'll reward you," the girl interrupted, walking toward her vanity and pulling off a fine bracelet. She pressed it into the maid's hands. "But you'll keep this a secret. Understood?"
Lanyi clutched the bracelet, eyes wide. Slowly, she nodded. "Understood."
---
By noon, the palace buzzed with new energy.
Banners were raised and flower petals floated through the air. Maids rushed to line the grand hallway, whispering amongst themselves.
The Silver Knight's sister had returned.
She was welcomed with trumpets and chants, nobles lining the entrance to greet her. Even from afar, the main character could feel the woman's presence—a powerful, arrogant air that commanded attention.
From her distant spot, the main character watched silently, blending into the shadows of the corridor.
"That's Lady Xiyan," a maid whispered nearby. "The knight's sister. She's terrifying, they say."
So that's who she was.
Her thoughts wandered—why hadn't she heard of her before? Why had the knight never mentioned he had family?
Before she could slip away, a pair of sharp eyes locked onto hers. Lady Xiyan noticed her.
The main character turned and tried to flee, but guards were already moving.
"You there!" Xiyan commanded. "Bring her to me."
Rough hands grabbed her arms, dragging her away from the corridor. She didn't resist, but her chest burned with humiliation. She was tossed into a richly decorated private room. The door slammed shut behind her.
Moments later, Lady Xiyan entered.
"Who are you?" she asked coldly.
The girl remained quiet, her head bowed low, refusing to let the woman see her face.
"Look up when I speak to you," Xiyan snapped.
Slowly, she obeyed.
The sister's eyes widened at the sight of her pale skin. "What an ugly shade of white," she muttered.
The words struck like a dagger. Memories crashed back—guards turning their backs on her, palace staff grimacing at her presence.
She clenched her fists but said nothing.
"I'm not done talking. You don't stand unless I allow it." Xiyan's voice was like ice.
But the girl stood anyway, slowly rising with silent defiance in her eyes.
"How dare you glare at me with those ugly eyes?!" Xiyan shouted, stepping forward and striking her across the face.
The main character didn't cry. She didn't speak. She simply stared, her composure like stone.
"She acts proud… why?" Xiyan muttered to herself. "No woman acts like this unless she's someone important…"
Then the girl lowered herself onto her hands and knees, her voice low. "I apologize..."
Xiyan narrowed her eyes. "How did you get here?"
"I tried to drown myself," she said. "The young master saved me."
There was a pause. Then the sister smirked. "The young master brought you here?"
Her voice dripped with jealousy and arrogance. "Fine. You may leave."
Just as the main character began to rise, a sharp pain exploded in her hand. Xiyan had stepped on it.
She screamed.
"Oh, don't cry now," Xiyan mocked, bending down. She stroked the girl's hair gently—then yanked a pin from her scalp, pulling several strands of hair with it. Blood dotted her temple.
She gasped in pain.
"You should learn your place," Xiyan sneered, lifting her shoes and stepping away. "Don't accept every kindness like it belongs to you. It doesn't."
She turned and walked out.
The door barely closed before her maids rushed in. They gasped in horror at the sight of her injuries and scrambled to help her up.
But she barely noticed.
Her ears were ringing with old echoes. Her mother's cold eyes. Hot tea on her arms. Her sister's silence. Children throwing stones. A little girl pointing and screaming:
"Witch! Ugly witch!"
Her vision blurred with rage and humiliation.
She sat there, shaking, covered in bruises, blood, and tears, and she made a quiet promise to herself:
From now on, anyone who dares hurt me will suffer for it.