At sixteen, Rosylin Valemont had already learned the language of silence.
It was not a language anyone had taught her.
She had learned it through years of watching.
Watching servants lower their voices whenever she entered a room.
Watching her father turn his face away whenever she came near.
Watching her brothers receive the affection she had once wished for.
Watching her mother wait until the household was quiet before secretly coming to see her.
Rosylin had learned that speaking too much brought trouble.
Asking questions brought anger.
And telling the truth could turn the little peace she had into something much worse.
So she remained quiet.
She endured.
And she learned how to disappear.
That morning, pale sunlight slipped through the curtains of her small room.
Rosylin stood before the old mirror, carefully brushing her long burgundy hair.
She was sixteen now.
Her pale skin looked almost untouched by the harshness of the life she had lived.
Her rose-colored lips were soft, and her brown eyes held a strange sadness that made her appear older than she truly was.
She had grown into a remarkable beauty.
But beauty had never brought her happiness.
Instead, it had become another reason for people to hate her.
A soft knock came at the door.
Rosylin turned.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Irina and Yeon stepped inside.
They were her cousins, the daughters of her aunt.
Both girls had grown up surrounded by attention and affection.
Unlike Rosylin, they had never needed to wonder whether there would be food waiting for them.
They had never needed to hide when guests arrived.
They had never been told that their presence embarrassed their family.
And now, as Rosylin had grown older, their jealousy had grown with her.
Irina looked at her silently.
Her eyes moved from Rosylin’s face to her worn dress.
A cruel smile slowly appeared on her lips.
“Still wearing that?”
Rosylin glanced down.
“It’s the only dress I have.”
Yeon laughed softly.
“How unfortunate.”
Rosylin lowered her eyes.
She had learned that arguing with them only made things worse.
Irina walked closer.
“You know what I don’t understand?”
Rosylin remained silent.
“How someone dressed like a servant can look like that.”
Rosylin’s fingers tightened around the brush.
She didn’t answer.
Yeon stepped closer as well.
“They keep talking about your face.”
Rosylin looked at her.
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
There was bitterness in Yeon’s voice.
“They say your eyes are beautiful.
They say your hair is beautiful.
They say you’re becoming the most beautiful girl in the family.”
Irina’s expression hardened.
Rosylin shook her head.
“I never asked anyone to say those things.”
“That’s what makes it worse,” Irina whispered.
Rosylin didn’t understand.
Before she could say anything else, Irina grabbed her wrist.
Rosylin flinched.
“Please.”
The word escaped her quietly.
Yeon closed the door.
The sound of the latch clicking into place made Rosylin’s heart sink.
“Why are you always so afraid?” Yeon asked.
Rosylin looked at the floor.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
Irina’s grip tightened.
Rosylin tried not to cry.
She knew better than to fight them.
She knew what would happen if she did.
They would call her disrespectful.
They would tell the adults that she had started the trouble.
And no one would ask why.
So Rosylin stood there and endured their cruelty.
When they finally left, the room became silent again.
Rosylin remained beside the door.
Her breathing was unsteady.
She slowly pulled her sleeve over her wrist.
Then she looked toward the mirror.
The girl staring back at her looked calm.
Almost expressionless.
No one looking at her would have known what had happened.
That was how she had survived for years.
She hid everything.
Her hunger.
Her tears.
Her fear.
Her anger.
Even her pain.
A few hours later, one of the maids entered her room.
“The corridor hasn’t been cleaned.”
Rosylin immediately stood.
“I’ll do it.”
“You should have done it already.”
“I’m sorry.”
The maid stared at her with irritation.
“You’re always sorry.”
Rosylin lowered her head.
“I’ll clean it now.”
The maid struck her.
The sound was sharp in the quiet room.
Rosylin froze.
Her cheek burned.
But she did not cry.
The maid walked away without another word.
Rosylin slowly raised a hand to her cheek.
For a moment, she simply stood there.
Then she lowered her hand.
She had become accustomed to pain.
That frightened her more than the pain itself.
Because there had been a time when she would have cried.
There had been a time when she would have run to her mother.
There had been a time when she believed someone would protect her.
That girl no longer existed.
Rosylin quietly left the room and walked toward the library.
The old library had become her secret refuge.
It was one of the few places in the Valemont mansion where no one bothered to look for her.
Dust covered the shelves.
The books were old.
Some of them had torn pages and faded covers.
But to Rosylin, they were treasures.
Her father had never thought she needed an education.
No tutor had been sent to teach her.
No one had cared whether she could read or write.
So she had taught herself.
Slowly.
Patiently.
One word at a time.
She had discovered history, kingdoms, languages, poetry, and stories of people who had lived lives completely different from hers.
Whenever she read, she could forget the mansion.
Forget her father.
Forget the servants.
Forget that she was the daughter no one wanted to see.
She opened a book and began reading.
But then she heard footsteps outside.
Many footsteps.
Voices echoed through the corridor.
Rosylin closed the book.
She stepped toward the doorway.
The mansion had suddenly become strangely busy.
Servants hurried past carrying flowers.
Others carried boxes filled with expensive fabrics.
Someone was giving instructions in the hall.
Someone else was laughing.
Rosylin stood quietly among the shadows.
Then she heard a familiar name.
“Noah’s wedding must be perfect.”
Her fingers slowly loosened around the book.
Noah.
Her elder brother.
Twenty-six years old.
Ten years older than her.
He was getting married.
Rosylin stared at the servants rushing around.
No one had told her.
Not her father.
Not Noah.
Not anyone.
She stepped closer to the corridor.
Her father stood in the distance, speaking proudly about the wedding.
His face was warm.
His voice carried happiness.
Rosylin watched him.
She remembered being a little girl and wondering what it would feel like to receive that same warmth from him.
She had spent years waiting.
Years hoping.
Years believing that perhaps one day he would finally look at her and see his daughter.
But he never had.
He had sons.
They were enough.
Rosylin slowly stepped backward.
She didn’t want to watch anymore.
She turned toward the corridor leading to her room.
But before she could reach it, a maid hurried toward her.
“What are you doing here?”
Rosylin stopped.
“I was going back to my room.”
The maid glanced toward the crowded hall.
Then she grabbed Rosylin’s arm.
“Listen carefully.”
Rosylin looked at her.
“Do not come out of your room again.”
“Why?”
The maid’s voice dropped.
“His Majesty does not want anyone to see you.”
Rosylin’s heart tightened.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
The maid released her arm.
“And I don’t care.”
She pointed toward Rosylin’s room.
“Stay there.
Especially during the wedding preparations.”
Rosylin stared at her.
“But—”
“If someone sees you outside, His Majesty will punish you.”
The words silenced her.
Rosylin looked toward the hall one last time.
The mansion was filled with flowers.
People were smiling.
Everyone was preparing to celebrate Noah.
Everyone had a place.
Everyone belonged.
Except her.
Rosylin slowly lowered her head.
“Yes.”
She walked back to her room.
The door closed behind her.
For a while, she stood completely still.
Then she walked toward the window.
Outside, the gardens were bright beneath the afternoon sun.
Roses covered the bushes.
Red roses.
Beautiful roses.
Their petals moved gently in the wind.
Rosylin placed her hand against the glass.
She could hear laughter from the halls behind her.
She could hear servants preparing for the wedding.
She could hear her family celebrating a future that did not include her.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She wiped it away.
Another followed.
This time, she didn’t wipe it.
She sat beside the window and pulled her knees toward her chest.
For sixteen years, she had asked herself the same question.
What had she done wrong?
Why had her father hated her before she had even been old enough to understand the word?
Why had everyone decided she was someone who should remain hidden?
Why was being born a girl enough to make her unwanted?
She had never found an answer.
Perhaps there wasn’t one.
Perhaps she had simply been born into the wrong place.
Rosylin closed her eyes.
“If I disappeared…”
Her voice broke.
She swallowed.
“Would anyone notice?”
Silence answered her.
The laughter outside continued.
No one came.
No one knocked.
No one called her name.
Rosylin opened her eyes and looked at the roses again.
For years, she had believed that she was like one of them.
Beautiful, perhaps.
But trapped behind thorns.
Then something inside her shifted.
It was small.
So small that she almost didn’t notice it.
For the first time, she didn’t ask whether her family would ever love her.
She asked something else.
Something far more dangerous.
“What if I stop waiting for them?”
Her heart beat faster.
She didn’t know what would happen if she stopped seeking her father’s approval.
She didn’t know what would happen if she stopped begging silently for her family’s affection.
She didn’t know what kind of person she would become.
But for the first time in her life, Rosylin wondered if perhaps her fate did not belong entirely to them.
Outside the window, the roses moved in the wind.
And inside the forgotten room of the Valemont mansion, the girl everyone had tried to silence began to discover the smallest, most dangerous thing of all.
A will of her own.