They were battered. Fraying. But not breaking.
Astra walked among them without comment. She didn't need to.
The bruises told her everything.
And so did the light in their eyes—harder now, focused.
Behind her, Gerald approached, eyes narrowed.
"Everyone's doing well," he said quietly.
Astra didn't look up.
"Hum. They have resilience and strong will," she murmured.
Gerald's gaze softened, a rare flicker of admiration hidden beneath his usually stoic expression.
"They're really very talented. At first, I questioned whether I, or we, could truly live up to your expectations."
He paused, as if weighing his own words, then continued.
"But it turns out… we never really knew ourselves. I've also taken your advice into consideration and made improvement in my speed."
Astra gave a single, measured nod. "Good."
She turned back toward her six girls. Her shadows.
Each one rising from pain like flame from flint.
Quietly, almost to herself, she whispered, "You all were already capable…"
"…I just gave a slight push."
—
Above the Black Rose Palace, the sky stretched endlessly, an unbroken canvas of blue, clear, quiet, untouchable.
The morning breeze brushed over the ivory walls, lifting petals from the garden into the air like scattered daydreams.
It was a new day.
But the golden envelope in Astra's hand made it feel anything but ordinary.
Astra stared at the crimson wax seal, its insignia unmistakable. The imperial crest. The emperor consort's seal.
Her finger traced the edge of the envelope. There was no mistake. The invitation had come directly from the Imperial Palace.
She flipped it open, letting her gaze linger on the elegant handwriting.
An invitation.
To a banquet.
Specifically, to celebrate the fifth birthday of Princess Rosalia– the second daughter of the empress.
Her half-sister.
Astra's lips curled, neither into a smile nor a frown, but something between amusement and ridicule.
She had never received a single invitation before. No banquets, no celebrations, not even the trivial tea parties meant to forge superficial friendships.
And on her birthdays, there was not a banquet, not even a single candlelit cake gracing the table.
Her mother, the Empress, was always too ensnared in the weight of duty to spare a moment.
And now? An invitation?
For the birthday of the child who had received everything she had ever wished for?
Her mother's love—and her mother's time.
Of course. My mother, the empress, would never send me this, she thought. She can't even stand hearing my name, let alone invite me to her precious daughter's birthday. This must be the emperor's doing. But why?
In the past as long as she could remember, Astra had never once laid eyes on her stepfather. Not even once.
She had only heard rumors: a man of calm demeanor, frightening precision, and remarkable beauty.
Even when she used to shamelessly storm the empress's quarters, crying for attention, she never encountered the emperor. It was as though he purposely avoided her… or simply didn't care enough to notice her.
So now, after all these years of silence, this?
A banquet invitation?
Does he want to parade me around so he can laugh? she thought. Or perhaps, to show off the lavish celebration his precious daughter is receiving... something I never got even once.
Her hand tightened around the invitation letter, but she didn't tear it.
Instead, her gaze sharpened.
Astra, "..." if that's the case, then he's too pathetic.
From across the room, Cassia and Ella exchanged a glance. Both had been silently observing Astra's still figure for a while now.
Cassia stepped forward, hesitant. "Your Highness… if you don't want to go, you don't have to. You can ignore it."
Astra blinked, leaving her thoughts behind. A small, almost sly smile tugged at her lips.
"Why not?" she said, voice light yet edged with mischief. "Since they invited me so sincerely, how could I be so disrespectful as to decline? Of course, I'll attend."
She held the letter up again, this time with a glint in her eye.
"Besides... I'm curious to meet this little sister of mine," Astra said, her tone light but carrying the faintest edge of intrigue.
Ella stepped forward, a smile blooming across her face like sunlight through clouds, her enthusiasm practically radiating.
"Then we must start preparing right away! There's not much time left until the banquet!"
Cassia joined in eagerly, her voice earnest. "Yes! Our princess must be the most dazzling presence at that banquet!"
Astra raised an eyebrow, letting out a half-laugh that held both amusement and mild exasperation.
"It's not my birthday. I don't need to compete with a five-year-old. Just keep it casual."
Cassia shook her head fervently.
"No way. It's our princess's first official appearance at a banquet, so we are going to make them dazzled with your beauty."
"That's right," Ella added, eyes sparkling with unrestrained energy.
Astra sighed, but there was a helpless flicker of warmth behind her gaze. She could already see the hard days ahead.
And just like that, the whirlwind began.
The banquet was in seven days.
But the preparations started immediately.
Dresses were pulled from wardrobes lined with velvet and jewels. Accessories, hair ornaments, gloves, fans—every drawer, every chest—opened as if they were about to crown a queen.
Cassia and the others' enthusiasm was almost divine in its intensity.
Meanwhile, Astra remained on the couch, Shadow—the sleek black cat—nestled lazily in her lap. She stroked the silky fur absentmindedly, watching the chaos with faint, amused helplessness.
She watched them with a faint, amused helplessness.
They're more excited than I am, she thought.
Her fingers slowed as her thoughts drifted—backward.
To a past she had never asked for.
To the girl she used to be.
Despite the Empress's disdain, the Black Rose Palace was never starved of necessities. Food, garments, fabrics, accessories—all top-tier.
It was all for appearance. The Empress cared deeply for her reputation, and that meant even the daughter she despised must appear well-kept to the outside world.
She was given everything.
Luxurious gowns. The finest dishes. A palace of her own. Her bed was soft. Her bath scented with rose oils. Her wardrobe overflowed with silks and pearls.
She lacked nothing.
Except love.
From the moment she could speak, she sought her mother's attention like a flower reaching for the sun but found only shadow.
Ignored. Discarded. Forgotten.
A child the Empress would rather forget.
Her nanny had raised her, offering fleeting warmth in a cold palace. But the nanny vanished mysteriously when Astra was four and a half.
The guards had made a perfunctory show of investigating, asked a few questions, paced the halls once or twice and then like a candle snuffed in a storm, the matter was forgotten.
Like it had never happened.