Mornings in the Valleria household were never quiet—there were always servants' footsteps, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, or small conversations drifting through the corridors. But this morning, before any of that began, someone was already awake.
It was Aria—
She woke even before the sun had fully touched the sky.
Her black hair still fell loose over her shoulders, her eyes as calm as frozen water. She rose from the bed without hesitation, without laziness, without doubt—as if her body were accustomed to a rhythm far removed from comfort.
She went down to the kitchen.
The servants who were preparing breakfast ingredients froze the moment they saw Aria enter.
"Oh—Miss Aria… good morning…"
Aria gave a slight nod.
She walked past the servants without asking for anything, took the kettle of hot water, prepared black tea herself, and poured it into a simple white cup. Every movement was neat and precise, causing several servants to unconsciously hold their breath.
Not a single one of them dared to offer help.
They did not know whether Aria did not want to be touched, or did not want to be approached.
All they knew was that Aria's aura was different from anyone else in the house.
Quiet.
Cold.
Calm in an unnatural way.
Just as the most senior servant was about to open her mouth to offer bread, Helena entered the kitchen.
Her hair was not fully arranged yet; she was still wearing a soft white nightgown. Her face looked tired, like someone who had not slept well the night before.
When she saw Aria, her steps slowed.
"Aria… you're already awake?"
Aria glanced at her briefly. "Yes."
Helena swallowed softly.
She wanted to speak like a mother.
She wanted to say that she had missed Aria all these years.
She wanted to know how Aria had lived while she was gone.
But the words seemed to lodge in her throat.
"Mother… wanted to prepare breakfast for you."
Her tone was awkward—like someone who had forgotten how to be a mother.
Aria looked at her cup of tea.
"I've already made it myself."
Helena fell silent.
The answer was simple, polite… yet it felt like a deliberately maintained distance.
Helena panicked slightly.
"I-I just wanted to know if you need anything. You must be tired from yesterday's journey. Or… maybe you…"
Aria looked at her. Her gaze was calm, cold.
"No need."
Helena bit her lip.
She stepped back half a step, as if Aria's gaze pushed her away.
The silence fell so deeply that the servants stopped moving.
Aria took her tea and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Helena standing alone—like a woman who had just failed to connect with her own child.
---
The dining room was filled with the aroma of an expensive breakfast when Aria entered.
Adrian was seated at the end of the table.
Leon and Ethan sat to his right and left.
Selena sat near Helena, as if always claiming the position of the "sweet daughter."
When Aria sat down, all eyes turned toward her—not staring, merely glancing—as if the girl were a new variable that had to be measured.
Adrian closed the file he was reading.
His voice was immediately firm, leaving no room for warmth.
"Starting today, Aria, you must follow the family rules. Curfew, school activities, performance reports, study schedules. Everything must be clear."
He said it like company regulations for a new employee.
Aria nodded slightly.
"Alright."
There was no defense.
No refusal.
No gratitude.
That, in fact, made Adrian look dissatisfied.
Selena smiled faintly beside Helena.
"Father is right. Our family has its own rhythm. I'll explain everything to Aria at school later."
The phrase I'll explain sounded gentle, but implied that Selena was the gatekeeper of the school—and Aria would be an outsider there.
Aria did not respond.
Helena tried to smile, though her eyes still looked tense from the conversation in the kitchen earlier.
"Aria… Mother hopes you can feel comfortable here. After all… ten years is a long time, so we all need time to—"
She stopped.
Her breath caught.
Aria looked at her.
That gaze was too calm, too pale, too clear for someone who should have been wounded.
Helena let out a short breath and continued without thinking,
"We didn't know whether you were still alive. You disappeared for so long… your old room had even already—"
She immediately covered her mouth, realizing she had misspoken.
It was already too late.
Aria slowly set her spoon down.
The soft metallic sound echoed faintly.
"So that was my fault?"
Helena flinched.
"N-no… Mother didn't mean that, I only… only…"
Helena lowered her head, her voice trembling.
"We… we didn't know what to do, Aria…"
Strangely, Selena seemed to want to smile at that small chaos.
But she disguised it with a worried expression.
Then Leon tried to help ease the tension.
"Aria, Mother didn't mean to blame you. You have to understand the situation—"
Aria cut him off with a voice that was gentle yet piercing.
"I was six years old when I disappeared."
Leon fell silent.
"I didn't choose to disappear."
Her tone was flat, not angry—simply stating a fact.
"And I didn't choose to come back."
Those words froze the entire table.
Ethan set his laptop aside.
"Well then… yes, it's natural that your return makes everything… difficult. You appeared suddenly. This house changed because… of course it changed."
Aria glanced at Ethan briefly.
Ethan swallowed.
That look was like facing a mirror that revealed too much.
Helena lowered her head, overwhelmed by guilt.
Adrian straightened his back, feeling his control slipping.
Leon did not know what to say.
Selena continued to smile softly—though now her eyes narrowed slightly.
All eyes turned toward Aria.
Everyone waited for a reaction.
Everyone expected something Aria did not possess.
Then Aria spoke quietly, almost like a whisper that did not try to comfort anyone.
"It's fine. I don't expect anything from any of you."
The sentence sounded gentle…
yet made the room feel even emptier.
Selena tilted her head, pretending concern.
"Of course not, Aria. We just want you to… feel comfortable. Mom and Dad are afraid you might be hurt, that's all."
Aria kept her eyes on the table.
She did not speak.
She did not defend herself.
That indifference killed the conversation.
Adrian finally spoke, trying to restore the situation—only to make it worse.
"Aria, you need to be more… open. Don't be so cold. We want a good relationship."
Aria looked at her father for a long moment.
That gaze made Adrian hold his breath.
"Is this how you welcome a child who has returned?"
Aria's tone was gentle.
"With rules, demands, and evaluations?"
Adrian fell silent.
No one dared to refute that sentence.
Because Aria was not shouting.
Not crying.
Not demanding.
She was only stating something difficult to deny—that this family had not welcomed her with love,
but with expectations.
The dining table grew silent, like an empty room.
Aria slowly pushed her chair back.
"I'm done."
She stood and walked out of the room without looking back even once.
Helena called softly, "Aria…"
But her voice was not strong enough to stop the girl's steps.
Leon stood frozen, saying nothing.
Ethan closed his laptop restlessly.
Adrian stared at the table, his jaw tightening.
Selena smiled faintly—a smile filled with satisfaction and fear at the same time.
Because she realized something—
Aria did not want a place in this family.
And someone who does not want to compete…
is far harder to defeat.
Aria walked down the long corridor, toward a room that was not home.
Behind her, the dining table was filled with silence and regret.
And for the first time since Aria returned,
everyone realized that old wounds do not disappear just because of a single homecoming.
The wound had just been reopened.
And no one knew how to close it.