Chapter 2: The Cursed One

Gravania is a vast continent, stretching majestically, adorned by lines of nations standing side by side with their own pride and identity.

In this land, the human race became the primary rulers, living with their heads held high after achieving great victories in wars against foreign invaders centuries ago. That bloody history has become the foundation of their civilization, forming strong nations that now fill the lands of Gravania with ambition, glory, and remnants of old grudges.

Since humans rose up against foreign invaders who had cruelly oppressed them for years, they began to establish their respective nations. Most of these nations adopted an absolute monarchy system as their main form of government.

In the southeast of the continent of Gravania stood a kingdom named Palanthein, a land widely known for its glory in art and the prosperity of its people. At least, that was what appeared on the surface.

This country still held a strong feudal system, where nobles were the landowners while the common people were the ones who had to manage the land, although in the end, these aristocrats were the ones who reaped the profits.

Such was the strength of the feudal system in this country, that there were at least thousands of feudal lands scattered throughout the Kingdom of Palanthein.

In northern Palanthein, for instance, there were also territories owned by the Royal Aristocracy. Among these somewhat barren territories, stood a region that felt quite prosperous compared to its neighboring territories.

The territory was managed by someone holding the title of Markhal, a title generally given to rulers of remote border regions—territories that usually consisted of only one small town as a center, and were also surrounded by several villages.

In the middle of lush and fertile highlands, stood an elegant manor belonging to a local noble. Its building stood out strikingly amidst the natural landscape, as if symbolizing a quiet yet undeniable power.

Several soldiers also bravely appeared focused on their duties, such as patrolling around or simply standing near the fence to monitor access in and out of the manor. They naturally wore the same military uniform, a striking combination of red and black.

Another striking characteristic of them was that they appeared to be holding sticks made of special wood with a mix of iron at its base, extending into a dark, slender metal barrel. An intricate mechanism was visible on the side, attached to a sturdy grip, ready to produce a deadly explosion.

Further inside the manor, unique-looking women were busy walking back and forth with their respective tasks. Some of them even appeared with something in their hands, such as folded clothes, dirty eating utensils, and also a broom; it seemed they were the maids who took care of this manor.

Among the busy maids, there was a chestnut-haired girl who was also part of this. She was currently walking along one of the manor's corridors, pushing a serving cart on which sat a bowl of porridge and a glass of fresh milk squeezed directly from healthy goats.

"Come on... just a little more," she murmured softly, almost like a prayer. The girl walked slowly, as if every step had to be carefully considered. Her hands trembled slightly as she pushed the almost full serving cart—a movement that showed how much she didn't want a single drop to spill onto the floor.

"Be careful, okay."

"Just a little more, you can do it!"

Occasionally, when she was focused on being careful, some other maids passed by and even gave her a few words of encouragement.

The nervousness she experienced was not without reason, as she had only been working as a maid for a week in the manor owned by the landlord who managed this territory.

The seemingly nervous girl was often called Lyra.
She came from one of the smallest villages in this territory. Actually, her own family was quite well-off; they were not in debt, and compared to the lives of commoners in other regions, their lives were truly luxurious.

So, she wasn't actually under any pressure that would lead her to work as a maid here.

It all began when Lyra felt bored with village life. One day, by chance, while she went to the small town that was the center of activity in this region, she saw a pamphlet displayed on a bulletin board. Its content was an announcement for recruiting maids for the Del Korynth family's manor.

But what particularly interested her in the pamphlet was that it specifically stated that if accepted, the maid would be tasked with caring for Princess Seraphelle, the only child of Lord Markhal Alexion del Korynth.

After reading the pamphlet, Lyra immediately went home and told her family that she wanted to apply as a maid in Lord Alexion's family. Hearing this, all her family laughed at her, saying it was impossible for Lyra to be accepted because they knew that with her notoriously tomboyish attitude, she would fail even at the first stage.

Annoyed by this, she still went to apply for the job and was very surprised to find that the number of applicants was very small and could even be counted with her own fingers.

It turned out that most of the applicants came from neighboring regions who had no idea of the true situation experienced by Princess Seraphelle.

However, after they were explained that the princess was a child with a rare physical condition—jet-black hair and glowing red eyes—many of them immediately withdrew. In the end, only Lyra remained as the sole candidate.

Children with such rare physical characteristics were often avoided by society.
Many believed that they were the result of a curse—the evil effect of dark magic practices previously brought by foreign invaders.

Lyra herself had long heard various rumors about Lady Seraphelle, stories widely spread throughout the Markhalnate Del Korynth territory. So, the news did not surprise her at all. In fact, her curiosity grew—because never in her life had she seen a child with such characteristics firsthand.

So when Lyra was accepted, she was immediately escorted by the head butler to Lady Seraphelle's room. There, she was very surprised to see a girl with jet-black hair flowing on the bed, with pale skin like unblemished porcelain, lying on the large bed.

If not for the subtle movement in her chest indicating she was breathing, Lyra would have thought that what lay there was not a human, but a perfectly crafted doll by the hands of an extraordinarily skilled dollmaker.

However, what made Lyra quite disappointed was the fact that she couldn't see those rare red eyes directly. Lady Seraphelle was lying in a coma that had lasted for seven years—a condition also generally known by most local residents.

The cause of the coma remained a mystery. Although there was no definite explanation, the workers in the Del Korynth manor believed that the princess suffered from a strange illness whose form and origin no one truly understood.

"Ah, Lyra! Good morning!" greeted a maid who was wiping a window with a piece of cloth in her hand.

"Good morning, Sister Theressa!" Lyra replied with a small smile.

On her way to Lady Seraphelle's room, Lyra met one of the senior maids she already knew. The woman seemed to have started her morning duties, cleaning rows of glass windows stretching along the manor's corridor.

Although she had only been working here for a week, Lyra was known for being adaptable and quickly befriended the other maids. Among them, Theressa was one of the quickest to become close to her.

The woman was ten years older, and Lyra even considered Theressa her older sister, given that Lyra herself grew up in a house full of brothers.

"So, it's time for Lady Seraphelle's breakfast, right?" Theressa asked, still wiping the window.

"Ah, yes, that's right."

"I see. Is there anything I can help with?"

"Eh, no need! I can do it myself."

"Really? Okay then."

"But sometimes I wish Lady Seraphelle's room wasn't too far from the kitchen...." Lyra complained, exhaling.

"Haha, it might be a bit troublesome at first, but you'll get used to it over time."

Many told Lyra that the Del Korynth family's manor was actually still relatively small, especially compared to the manors of neighboring landlords that were deliberately built with ostentatious luxury.

But for Lyra, this building still felt vast—especially when she had to carry food and drinks from the kitchen to Lady Seraphelle's room.
The distance was quite tiring, especially if she had to walk slowly while maintaining balance pushing the serving cart in front of her.

Even a few days earlier, Lyra accidentally tripped over her own feet while pushing the lunch serving cart to Lady Seraphelle's room; everything on the serving cart was completely messed up and beyond salvage.

Of course, after that happened, Lyra was immediately scolded by the head butler, but in the end, everything turned out fine when the head of the kitchen department forgave her and prepared lunch for Lady Seraphelle again. To this day, Lyra still feels indebted to him, even though the head chef kept telling her not to worry about it too much.

Theressa's face looked troubled and she said, "Ah, forgive me for interrupting your work, I'm sure you're already having enough trouble pushing that serving cart."

"Hehe, it's okay. But well, I should hurry to Lady Seraphelle's room before it's too late."

"I see. In that case, be careful."

"Thank you!"

Finally, their short conversation ended. Theressa went back to cleaning the window while Lyra continued her struggle.

However, after only a few steps, Lyra remembered something and asked, "Sis Theressa, may I ask you something?"

"Eh, of course, what is it?"

Theressa, who had been busy wiping the window again, turned to Lyra, her facial expression showing curiosity.

"Has Lady Eudoria passed through here?" Lyra asked, tilting her head.

"Hmm, Lady Eudoria, you say? I haven't seen her pass by here at all."

"I see..."

The person they were talking about was also a very influential person in this manor, because the woman was Lord Alexion's most beloved wife and she was popular not only for her beautiful face but also for her kind heart, as she was also known to be kind to all the workers here, both inside and outside the manor, regardless of their background.

Unlike Lord Alexion, who sometimes clearly harbored negative views towards his own daughter, Lady Eudoria, on the other hand, showed genuine unconditional love, regardless of her daughter's physical appearance.

Regardless of the fact that her daughter was always rumored to be a cursed child, Lady Eudoria always stayed by her daughter's side almost every day, waiting for her beloved child to open her eyes again.

That's why Lyra often found Lady Eudoria already in Seraphelle's room first. Sometimes, the woman seemed to speak softly to her daughter—even though she knew no answer would come.

Perhaps that's why Lord Alexion still took care of Seraphelle even though he disliked her, because it was no longer a secret that Lord Alexion deeply loved Lady Eudoria as his wife.

"Perhaps she's busy because the Social Season will begin soon," Theressa said.

"Ah yes, perhaps that's it."

Satisfied with the answer, Lyra bid farewell to Theressa for the second time. She began walking again along the long corridor of the manor, where other maids were also passing by.

Lyra had no choice but to quicken her pace to make up for the time she had previously lost. Her shoes squeaked softly on the marble floor, their rhythm faster than before. On the left side, the sunlight piercing through the window glass slowly rose higher, indicating that morning was gradually fading.

Time keeps moving, Lyra thought.

If she was truly late, the situation would become dire because she didn't know Lady Seraphelle's physical condition for sure. So if something untoward happened to Seraphelle, Lyra would bear the consequences, no matter the reason.

Along the corridor she walked, Lyra passed a row of large, tightly closed doors. Some of them were very luxurious, with intricate carvings and gleaming metal door handles. But what made her frown was the fact that most of those rooms were rarely used.

Since she first started working in this manor, she had often wondered to herself—what was all this for? Rooms that were never used, expensive furniture that was never even touched.
But well, that's just how nobles are, she thought. They have a strange habit of squandering wealth on things they don't even need.

However, among other nobles, the Del Korynth family could be considered still reasonable. At least, they didn't build a ballroom only to be visited once a year, or buy marble statues just to be glanced at and then forgotten.

The journey to Lady Seraphelle's room felt longer than usual. Lyra's breath was slightly ragged, though she tried to remain calm. Her palms were slightly sweaty on the handle of the serving cart she pushed. But finally, she arrived.

Before her now stood a large wooden door of dark old wood, adorned with beautiful rose carvings trailing across its surface. The door never changed, as elegant as the room's owner behind it.
And every time Lyra arrived at this place, for some reason, her heart would always beat a little faster—as if something could happen as soon as she touched the doorknob.

Without further delay, Lyra took a shallow breath. Her hand released its grip on the serving cart's handle, then reached out to touch the large doorknob, which felt cold to her hand.

According to Lyra herself, no matter how many times she came to this place, she was still not used to the strange aura coming from this room, like the air being too still, too quiet for a young girl's room. Every corner felt calming, but at the same time, terrifying.

Carefully, she turned the doorknob, and a soft click was heard, always the same every morning. Then slowly, she pushed the wooden door open. The hinges let out a soft sound, almost like an old whisper—as if the door itself understood not to disturb the tranquility within.

"Good morning, Lady," Lyra greeted with a very formal tone, then she continued, "I have brought you a healthy breakfast."

During her training, Lyra was told by the head butler that she must always greet whenever entering this room, even though Lady Seraphelle, who was in a coma, could not reply. He said it was part of formality and their responsibility as maids.

When Lyra was inside the room, she felt something unusual, unlike before: the room was already filled with sunlight coming in from the window glass.
That was quite strange because Theressa had told her that Lady Eudoria had not yet been seen heading to Lady Seraphelle's room. So, the question was, who had opened the window curtains besides herself and Lady Eudoria?

Lyra stepped further in, her gaze sweeping across the room. Her eyes immediately fixed on the luxurious canopy bed, which was now empty. Its pillows were still neatly arranged, although the blanket on it appeared messy. Essentially, Lyra's heart pounded fast, plunging, all because Lady Seraphelle was not in her bed.

Panic began to creep over Lyra. "Where is she?" she murmured.

She hastily put down the serving cart, her gaze scanning every corner of the room. Then, near the wide-open window, a silhouette was reflected. In front of the standing mirror, a figure.

Without much delay, Lyra immediately recognized the figure. How could she not? What she saw was the girl she had been serving lately.

However, the difference was that the girl she usually saw lying in her bed was now standing gracefully in front of the mirror, which was no less elegant than herself.

Now, the figure stood upright, enveloped in the gentle morning sunlight, yet still radiating an alien aura that Lyra could not comprehend. Her jet-black hair flowed long down her small back, shimmering like a deep shadow in the light.

Seeing the sight, Lyra was utterly frozen. Her mouth was slightly open, wanting to say something—a greeting, a question, anything—but no sound escaped. Her throat felt constricted. All she could feel was her heart pounding loudly, hammering against her ribs.

Lady Seraphelle was still facing the mirror in her white pajamas, very busy gazing at her own reflection.

Her tiny fingers lifted, touching the mirror's surface, gently stroking as if examining something. Her upright posture radiated a strength Lyra did not recognize from the princess who had been in a coma for so long.

Slowly, very slowly, like a slow dance, Lady Seraphelle's head began to move and turned towards Lyra, who was now behind her.

The shadow of her black hair shifted like silk cloth on her shoulder. Every millimeter of her movement felt like the rustle of time slowing down. Lyra's eyes did not blink, fixed on the process, fear mixed with awe filling her.

And when that face fully turned to her, when the princess's eyes met Lyra's gaze, the whole world seemed to fall silent.

Two deep, blood-red jewels. The same color as the roses in the front yard, a color she now knew was not just a rumor, but a reality very difficult to explain. Those eyes, eyes that were always closed in her long sleep, now wide open, staring at Lyra.

That gaze seemed to convey something heavy to Lyra; never in her life had she felt this just from being stared at.

"Oh, finally someone's here," the girl said.

Her voice sounded like an ordinary girl's voice—but for some reason, it still felt strange to Lyra's ears. There was something... not quite right.

"Hey, so where is this, anyway?" she asked, turning slowly.

"Uh... w-well... w-wha—what?"

"Why are you asking me back?" the girl murmured, sighing. "Kids these days... always answer a question with a question."

Lyra grew even more confused. She wasn't even sure what her words meant. But one thing was certain: her fear was now peaking. A cold sensation ran down her spine, spreading quickly like ice water pouring down her backbone. Her hands trembled. Her legs also weakened, barely able to support her body properly.

"I-I'm sorry!" Lyra suddenly screamed.

"Huh?"

And before the girl could react further, Lyra had spontaneously turned her body around. Without a second thought, she ran out of the room, her breath coming in gasps, her steps barely touching the ground. The sound of her shoes echoed along the manor's corridor—and from there, the beginning of chaos in the Del Korynth household was about to begin.

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