The mansion was grand, towering with high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers that hung like stars above.
Marble floors stretched out in every direction, reflecting the warm golden light of the evening.
The air smelled of polished wood and fresh flowers, and the soft hum of conversation filled the halls.
Servants moved gracefully through the crowd—maids in their black and white uniforms, butlers in tailored suits—all part of the noble household that served the Bluerose family.
At the center of it all stood a girl, no more than twelve years old, her blue hair cascading in soft waves down her back.
Her eyes, a striking shade of blue like the ocean, gleamed with happiness.
She wore a pure white dress, intricately embroidered with silver threads, the fabric shimmering with each movement she made.
A delicate silver tiara sat atop her head, amplifying her beauty and grace.
Amy Bluerose stood tall, her smile wide and proud as she awaited the crowd approaching her.
The people moved slowly towards her, a small group of nobles and servants.
Among them, she spotted her mother, but her face wasn't clear. It was blurry, as if covered by a fog.
In fact, none of the figures had clear faces—just vague, shadowy outlines of people she knew should care for her, people she thought loved her.
Yet, even without their features, she could feel their warmth, their presence. And so, she smiled wider, excitement filling her chest as they neared.
But then something strange happened.
The crowd didn't stop in front of her.
They didn't acknowledge her at all.
Instead, they walked right past her, as if she were invisible.
The butlers, the maids, the noblemen—all of them moved forward, ignoring her entirely.
Amy's smile faltered, confusion spreading across her face. Her blue eyes, once bright with anticipation, began to dim.
"Mother?" she muttered softly, reaching out towards the figure she believed to be her mother.
Her small hand clutched at the woman's gown, but instead of the comforting embrace she had hoped for, the fabric tore. She was left standing there, clutching nothing but a torn piece of cloth in her trembling hand.
Her mother didn't even turn to look at her.
The confusion turned into a hollow ache in her chest. Her expression went blank, and she glanced down at the torn piece of her mother's dress.
She felt abandoned, discarded. Slowly, Amy looked up, her eyes searching for the reason they had passed her by.
The crowd was heading towards another girl, a younger one—perhaps only eleven years old—standing just a few steps away.
Her hair was black as night, but her eyes were the same piercing blue as Amy's.
The girl wore a sleek black dress, adorned with glittering jewels that caught the light. Her tiara, brighter and more extravagant than Amy's, gleamed like a crown of stars.
The crowd had gathered around her, praising her with words that stung Amy's ears.
"Such grace..."
"Her talents are unmatched!"
The delicate silver shattered into glimmering pieces, scattering across the floor like broken glass.
Each fragment caught the light, and for a brief moment, Amy saw reflections in them—memories of her father telling her he loved her, of him smiling at her, of him holding her close. All those moments she had cherished now felt like lies.
Her vision blurred again, but this time it wasn't just from tears.
Her father, her sister, the crowd—they all turned into silhouettes, shadowy figures with no faces, no features. Her world was crumbling.
Amy's dress, once pristine and elegant, now felt heavy and torn, like it was weighing her down.
She glanced back at her sister, the figure who had stolen everything from her.
Her younger sister stood tall, her tiara held high, her dark dress unblemished. The grin that spread across her sister's face was wide and cruel, and it made Amy's heart stop. Her sister had won, and she reveled in Amy's defeat.
Suddenly, everything went dark. The walls of the mansion disappeared, the chandeliers faded into nothing, and the silhouettes dissolved into the black void around her.
A single red spotlight beamed down from above, casting its harsh light on Amy, making her feel exposed and vulnerable.
Her once-beautiful face looked soulless in the light.
Dark bags hung under her eyes, her once-clear blue eyes now empty, lifeless.
Black mascara ran down her cheeks, mixing with her tears, pooling onto the floor beneath her.
She tried to wipe it away, but no matter how much she rubbed her eyes, the blackness continued to flow, staining her fingers, her skin, her dress. It blinded her, suffocating her in her own sadness.
The world had crumbled around her, and she felt as though she would drown in the darkness.
But then, with a sudden jolt, she was back.
The dim light of the Ravenwood cafeteria replaced the void, and the sound of clattering dishes and laughter filled the air.
Amy blinked, her vision clearing. She looked down and saw her hand gripping the edge of the table, the wood beneath her fingers cracked and splintered from the force of her grip.
The emotions that had overwhelmed her in that dark dream still lingered in her chest, burning hot with anger.
She glanced up and saw Noah sitting across from her, his presence calm and composed. The sight of him made her stomach twist.
'... He's stealing my spotlight too. Just like my sister did.'
The realization hit her like a wave of ice.
Noah.
She had always thought she was the only one who could carry the weight of a legacy. But Noah... he was taking it all from her, just like her sister had.
He was the one getting praised, the one who was winning the attention she thought was hers by right.
Amy stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. The noise drew the attention of the students around her, but she didn't care. She couldn't stay there.
She couldn't sit there and watch herself once again forgotten in favor of someone else.
Without a word, Amy stormed out of the cafeteria, her head held high despite the storm of emotions tearing at her insides.
Behind her, she heard the concerned whispers of her classmates. Some of the noble girls followed her, calling after her, asking if she was alright.
But Amy didn't respond. She couldn't.
Because deep down, she wasn't alright. She wasn't sure if she ever would be again.