Chapter 1

Don’t treat me kindly

If ever asked what words she’d wish to whisper to her past self, Edith Hamilton wouldn’t hesitate, she’d choose that sentence without a moment’s pause.

It was the waning edge of December, when one year bowed to the next.

The nobility began their seasonal migration, leaving their country estates behind for their townhouses in the capital, preparing for the flurry of the social season.

The Hamilton barony was no exception, and this year, Lord and Madam Hamilton were more fervently ablaze with enthusiasm than ever before.

And rightly so.

“We ought to begin searching for a suitable gentleman for you,” Edith’s mother declared.

They had decided, with all the pomp and purpose of parents with a debutante daughter, to actively pursue a marriage match for Edith, who, unfortunately, had to bear the brunt of their ambition.

At dawn, her mother was already draping gowns across the bed, deliberating with a furrowed brow. Edith pressed her fingertips to her temple.

“Mother, I’ve said it before. I would honestly rather…”

“Pursue your art again?” her mother gently interrupted, a benevolent smile softening her expression. “Yes, dear. If it makes you happy, you should pursue it. I’m sure there’s a gentleman out there who’ll understand your…hobby.”

But Edith didn’t see it as a mere hobby. She bit her tongue, forcing back the retort that had risen to her throat.

The stain of her father’s mercantile origins clung like old perfume, faint yet inescapable. Along with it came the subtle but persistent discrimination, especially for a woman who dared entertain the thought of a profession.

She understood her parents. They only wished for her to marry well, live safely, and settle into the quiet comfort of nobility. Under such scrutiny, how could she possibly give voice to her true yearning, for her brush, her canvases, her art?

Could she really cast all that aside to become someone’s wife?

She couldn’t forget that rush, the thrill of a blank canvas transformed under her hand, the pride swelling in her chest when a painting was complete. It was unlike anything else.

Sensing her daughter’s disquiet, Madam Hamilton tempered her tone, gently coaxing.

“We’ll talk again later. But at least attend tonight’s New Year’s ball, won’t you? Please, Edith.”

“…Yes, Mother.”

She couldn’t refuse such earnestness.

The New Year’s Ball differed from other court gatherings. Hosted not by noble families but by decree of the Emperor himself, it was a dazzling affair of unmatched grandeur. Even those who normally scorned such social theatrics made an appearance.

Perhaps that was why…

There were unfamiliar faces among the crowd.

“His Grace the Duke gracing us with his presence, how rare,” someone whispered.

Curious, Edith took a sip of champagne and followed the murmurs with her eyes, catching her first glimpse of the man at the center of it all.

Yurik Glassheart.

Duke of the ancient and illustrious House of Glassheart. Nephew to the Emperor. The very embodiment of noble decorum.

And yet, he was known more for his cold detachment than for any grand charm.

Edith had heard enough about the man to last a lifetime, though she'd never seen him until now.

He was, undeniably, handsome.

Impeccably composed, his face was carved in quiet seriousness, his hair slicked back with meticulous precision. He wasn’t soft-featured as she’d imagined, rather, he was tall, lean, with a firm jaw and a frame that spoke of restrained strength.

She’d been expecting an ethereal man, perhaps gentle-looking. Instead, she found a man of stone and silver.

“You smitten already?” a teasing voice broke through her thoughts, followed by a mischievous elbow to her ribs.

Edith scowled. It was her older brother, Everett Hamilton, grinning like a cat who’d found cream.

“Cut it out. People are watching,” she muttered, swatting his hand away.

Everett clutched his side, overacting the blow. “So violent.”

She shot him a glare colder than the champagne in her glass.

“Oh, come on. No one’s paying attention. You’re not the only one staring. You like him, don’t you? Admit it.”

“I don’t. I was just curious who he was. Everyone’s always talking about him, and I’d never seen him before.”

He chuckled. “Sure, sure. My sweet, innocent little sister. Listen, take it from me, the Duke’s not for you.”

'…What?'

“You like warm-hearted men. He’s… not that.”

True, that.

Edith had always imagined herself falling for someone kind. Someone with a gentle heart.

“I said I’m not interested.”

Which, in fairness, was true. She hadn’t looked at the Duke with anything more than passing curiosity. And yet her brother was acting like she’d composed sonnets in the man’s honor.

It was absurd.

Still, Everett went on, a touch more serious now.

“Besides, there’s the whole… house difference. We’re not exactly in the same league, you know?”

Edith shook her head, tired of the reminder. She knew well enough.

The Hamiltons, who had purchased their barony, were worlds apart from the ancient Glassheart dynasty.

“Still,” Everett added dramatically, “he is painfully good-looking. No wonder poor Edith is falling head over heels!”

“Oh my god, would you stop?”

“Just accept it. First loves never work out anyway.”

Then, with maddening flair, he reached out and tousled her hair until it was a mess.

“Everett!” she snapped, trying to smooth her curls, but he had already vanished into the crowd, laughing like a fiend.

“Unbelievable.”

Edith stalked off, fuming. She had spent so much time perfecting her appearance, only for it to be ruined in seconds.

As she made her way across the ballroom with her eyes glued to the floor, she avoided meeting anyone’s gaze.

She tried heading to the ladies’ lounge, but it was already packed.

“Oh my, how… avant-garde your hair looks tonight! Has the New Year ushered in a new fashion trend?” a noblewoman said, fluttering her fan with an acid smile.

Of course. The one type of person Edith had no desire to run into tonight.

Women who envied her family’s wealth, yet never passed up an opportunity to look down on her.

She smiled sweetly. “You hadn’t heard? How dreadfully behind the times.”

The noblewomen’s faces twisted with barely masked irritation. Oh yes, that felt good. A year of wading through high society had paid off.

Still, she had no desire to linger.

“God, parties are exhausting.”

She sighed and wandered aimlessly through the palace, searching for somewhere quiet to fix her hair.

That’s when she saw it.

A faint glow flitting past the window, like a firefly, but more vibrant, shimmering in iridescent colors.

She felt herself drawn, almost entranced, following the light out into the gardens.

And then

“…Help… me…”

The voice was faint. A child’s voice. Edith’s eyes widened.

There shouldn’t be any children at the ball. As far as she knew, there weren’t even any young royals in the capital.

It didn’t make sense.

But she couldn’t ignore a plea for help.

“Who’s there? What’s wrong?”

“This way…”

She followed the sound to its source, only to find… nothing.

No one.

Goosebumps pricked her arms. Had she imagined it?

Maybe she had drunk too much.

“Look down.”

Just as she was about to leave, the voice came again.

She glanced at her feet, and froze.

There, no larger than her hand, was a child, or something that looked like one. But no human child had wings that shimmered like dragonfly silk, scattering golden dust with every flutter.

“…What on earth?”

She rubbed her eyes.

The vision didn’t change.

The tiny creature looked straight out of a fairytale.

“I definitely drank too much,” she muttered. “I’m hallucinating.”

“I’m hungry…”

The creature, oblivious to her disbelief, reached out with trembling fingers.

Moved by instinct more than logic, Edith opened her clutch. The only edible item inside was a single, oversized sugar candy.

“This is all I have. It’s… uh, kind of your whole face size. Can you eat it?”

The fairy’s eyes lit up like a desert wanderer discovering an oasis.

“Thank you! You’re such a kind human!”

It hugged the candy, humming in delight, then began to dance, wings vibrating with joy.

“Sweet! Sweet!”'

The candy shimmered and dissolved into glittering dust. The fairy, now rejuvenated, zipped up to her face.

“I shall grant you a wish in return!”

She blinked. Was she dreaming?

Maybe. But the dream was entertaining enough.

“A wish? You can really grant me anything I want?”

“Well… only within my very limited powers!”

“Such as?”

“I can bless you so you never stub your toes again! Or, if you accidentally pass gas in public, it’ll smell like roses!”

…Truly, a mighty spirit indeed.

Edith nearly laughed.

A lady should never pass gas in public. But really, how much could one expect from such a tiny creature?

“Then… I wish for my family to live long, happy, healthy lives.”

“Ah, sorry. That’s beyond me. But I can give you the scented fart blessing?”

“No thank you.”

In her heart, what she truly wished for was that her family would one day recognize her dream to become an artist.

But that was a wish she would achieve on her own, or not at all.

“'I’m fine, really.”

As she turned to go, the fairy hovered awkwardly.

“Wait! Even if you refuse a wish, I have to repay your kindness somehow…”

It pondered deeply, then lit up.

“What’s your type?”

“…Excuse me?”

“Your ideal man! Tell me!”

Edith blinked. “Uh… someone kind, warm-hearted. And I guess… good-looking?”

The fairy clapped its hands in glee.

“Perfect! Then I’ll cast a blessing, the most handsome man shall treat you with the utmost kindness!”

A radiant light burst from the fairy’s body. Edith had to shield her eyes.

“May this wish bring you happiness!”

And then…

Silence.

When she opened her eyes, the fairy was gone. Not a trace remained.

“…I really did drink too much.”

What a strange night.

Like something out of a dream. Or a storybook.