March 22, Year 853. Within the confines of Duskwood Manor, nestled in the capital of the Aurelian Empire, a young lady slumbered peacefully until a maid unceremoniously poured a bucket of cold water over her head, jolting her awake. This routine disturbance had become a common occurrence, and she had grown accustomed to the unwelcome morning ritual. Undeterred, Lillian swiftly adapted, knowing she couldn't afford to waste time. Breakfast awaited, and she had been expressly ordered to attend.

With urgency propelling her, Lillian hurried to the restroom, only to discover a basin filled with freezing cold water.

"What happened? Aren't you going to throw a tantrum like you always do?" the maid inquired, a teasing grin adorning her face.

Aware of the ticking clock and the consequences of tardiness, Lillian, with a resigned determination, chose to endure the cold water and forgo any protest.

As the maid received no vocal response, irritation began to surface. In a fit of frustration, she hurled the very bucket that had served as Lillian's unwelcome wake-up call.

In the quiet dawn of the morning draped in anticipation, Lillian prepared to get ready with the hope of rekindling familial ties long neglected. Months had passed since she last shared breakfast with her father, and nearly a year had slipped away like elusive shadows since she laid eyes on her estranged elder brother.

Determined to make this occasion special, Lillian coerced the reluctant maid into adorning her in the most exquisite attire within their modest abode. Each delicate movement, as the fabric embraced her, was a silent plea for acceptance.

With the grace of a fleeting dream, she hastened to the dining hall, where the aroma of the first meal of the day lingered. However, upon arrival, the scene that greeted her was not one of familial warmth but rather an icy tableau of neglect. Her father and elder brother, Domnick Duskwood, sat in stony silence, their connection fractured and fragile.

Domnick, the prodigal son, regarded Lillian with a disdain that cut through the air. Squinting his eyes, he questioned her very presence with an arrogance that stung. "Why is she here, Father? Don't you realize she's a harbinger of misfortune? I've just returned from the academy, seeking respite from the recent scandal, and now I can't even enjoy a peaceful breakfast?" His words, laced with irritation, echoed in the opulent hall, a stark contrast to the hopeful symphony Lillian had envisioned.

Despite the hurtful remarks that still lingered in the air, Lillian couldn't suppress the spark of joy at the prospect of seeing her long-lost brother. This, however, was a bitter triumph, for she had grown accustomed to the label of misfortune that clung to her like a shadow.

Running towards the table, her heart raced with a blend of excitement and trepidation. Yet, the sting of her brother's words had cut deep, leaving her emotionally wounded but resilient. This wasn't the first time she bore the weight of being called unlucky, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.

Summoning all the strength she could muster, Lillian approached the table with a facade of indifference. Her emotions, tightly controlled, were concealed behind a mask of neutrality. It was a skill honed through years of stringent upbringing, where displaying vulnerability was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Seated now among the elaborate setting, she wore a blank expression that betrayed none of the turmoil within. Today marked one of the rare instances when she could engage with her father and brother. The stakes were high, for any deviation from the expected composure would be met with consequences—a harsh reminder of the consequences she faced four months ago, the memory still lingering like a ghostly specter.

Duke Victor Duskwood's voice cut through the tension like a clarion call, his authoritative tone bringing a momentary hush to the swirling emotions. "That's enough, Domnick. She is now engaged to His Highness Crown Prince Silvanus. Any open insult would be tantamount to disrespecting royalty," he declared, his words carrying the weight of both command and consequence.

Domnick, however, remained unswayed, his bitterness unabated. "Still doesn't change the fact that she killed Mom. I just hope she won't tarnish our name with His Highness," he asserted, his resentment casting a dark shadow over the familial conversation.

In response, Victor's gaze bore into Domnick, a steely determination in his eyes. "Which is precisely why I summoned you here today. In a few months, Lillian will be joining the academy alongside His Highness. As her elder brother and a year ahead of her in the academy, you are entrusted with monitoring and assisting her," the Duke commanded, his words imbued with a sense of duty and expectation.

Domnick's response resonated with a hint of reluctant agreement. "All right, I will keep an eye on her. But if she stirs up trouble, I won't simply stand by and let her escape the consequences," he asserted, his commitment edged with a touch of lingering animosity.

Victor, undeterred by the undercurrents of tension, refocused the conversation on a pivotal matter. "The crucial element here is her engagement to His Highness Silvanus. Ensure that we maintain good relations and that the path to marriage remains unobstructed after the academy graduation," he commanded, his words carrying the weight of familial expectations and the intricate dance of alliances. The future of the Duskwood name rested on this engagement.

Lillian just sat there listening to their interaction and decision on her future. She never had a choice in the matter. The future was laid out for her and she had to do her part. Perhaps this is her punishment for killing her mother or so she thought. If only she weren't born as such a monster.

Once the breakfast was over, Lillian rushed back to her room. Her etiquette and high society interaction classes would start soon. She was to master them soon if she stood any chance of existing on top of the aristocratic society.