Dorothy Gale.
Her life had always been shaped by an innate ability to discern truth from falsehood.
It wasn't a power she was born with but a skill she honed from a young age, an adaptation necessary for survival.
This seemingly celestial gift was rooted not in mystical origins but in a keen understanding of human nature — a survival chanism crafted through constant exposure to judgnt and deceit.
From an early age, Dorothy learned to navigate a world where whispers and scrutinizing gazes were her constant companions.
She was acutely aware of the disdain that surrounded her, not only from those outside her family but from within her own ho.
Bastard....
Her status was one of paradox: noble blood coursed through her veins, yet her existence was marked by an absence of true nobility.
She was born of spite and scorn, a living embodint of her family's failures and societal rejection.
Glory and riches were never her destiny. In the eyes of her parents, her society, and even the very goddess they revered, she was a sin-a blemish on the noble lineage.
To them, she was a symbol of disgrace, her achievents and potential overshadowed by her origins.
This harsh reality made her keenly aware of the double-edged nature of her abilities.
The skill to perceive deception and sincerity was her armor against a world that would otherwise have consud her.
'Opportunities co to those who seek them, and to those who seize them'
Dorothy mused, her thoughts drifting to the letter she had just received.
- 'President Re-election notice'
It was a simple notice-an announcent about her eligibility to run for re-election as student council president.
Yet, to her, it was much more than that.
The future, she knew, was a canvas of possibilities, bright and gleaming with potential.
It was a world where even the smallest differences could lead to grand opportunities, but only if one had the foresight and resolve to grasp them.
As she sat at her desk, her magical glasses perched on her nose, Dorothy carefully unfolded the letter and scanned its contents.
The official response from the academy confird that her candidacy was still valid.
With a thoughtful nod, she folded the letter twice and tucked it neatly beneath the cabinet of her table.
The gesture was almost symbolic-a quiet acknowledgnt of the path she was about to tread.
A soft smile played on her lips as she contemplated her next steps.
Her hands moved with practiced ease, tracing runes in the air.
The runes flickered and glowed, casting gentle, ethereal light in the dimly lit room.
As the evening deepened, a frosty chill began to creep over the transparent windows of her
room.
Snowflakes drifted down from the darkening sky, painting the world outside in shades of white.
Dorothy turned her chair to face the window, her gaze fixed on the swirling snowflakes that danced in the evening air.
The scene was serene yet stark-a quiet reflection of her own state of mind.
Despite the cold, there was a warmth in her heart.
"Winter... huh," Dorothy murmured, her eyes closing as mories of the harsh past washed over her.
The chill of the season brought back vivid recollections of those difficult tis.
The cold winter nights, the desperation of begging for food on the streets, and the fruitless efforts to sell the wood she had gathered for survival.
Each mory was like a gust of icy wind, piercing through the layers of her present self.
Her thoughts drifted back to a ti when she was a child, facing the bitter cold with a sense of resolve and a flicker of hope.
She rembered a conversation from those days, a conversation that had taken place amidst the snow-covered streets and frostbitten winds.
"Hey Dorothy... how 'bout making a bet?"
"A bet?"
"Yes, a bet! Hehe, I've learned it from so of the grownups down at the pub!" the boy had replied with an infectious grin. "They say betting makes life more fun! We should also try it."
"But what are we going to bet about?"
"It's rather simple, really." The boy had scooped up a handful of snow from the ground, forming it into a ball. "We just have to bet on who'll survive this winter! If I win, you'll promise to beco my bride. If you win, well, you can ask or order to do anything."
"Deal!"
That winter, like every other, was an adversary of its own. It was a ti of hardship and struggle, yet it was also a ti of youthful dreams and daring bets.
Dorothy had accepted the challenge with a mix of apprehension and hope.
The boy's promise, though made in jest, had carried a weight of sincerity and warmth.
It was a beacon in the dark, a fleeting mont of light in the relentless cold.
But now, as she stood by the window, the mory of that boy was a faint echo.
The na and face of her childhood companion had faded with ti.
The details of his appearance were lost to the abyss of her past.
All that remained was the sound of his voice, a haunting reminder of the pain and loss she had
endured.
She rembered hearing his cries, the desperate sounds of soone she had cared about, as he succumbed to the cold.
Back then out of all the kids out there, she was the only one who survived...
Dorothy's gaze lingered on the snowflakes drifting outside, the sa snow that once
symbolized her struggle and her bets.
The past, though distant, was still a part of her, shaping the person she had beco.
'If my mana hadn't manifested in ti...'
Then maybe she would've suffered the sa fate as that boy.
The emptiness of the Heavenly Halls around her was a stark contrast to the bustling life it
usually hosted.
Now, the grand corridors and opulent rooms were nothing more than husks of their forr
selves.
The students and staff were all away, reveling in their winter break, leaving the grand edifice silent and deserted.
The halls, once alive with activity and ambition, now echoed with the quiet hum of solitude.
The sester break, with its peaceful interlude, was in full swing as almost 2 weeks have
passed now.
The vibrant energy of the academy would soon return with the students' arrival, and the halls would once again be filled with purpose and noise.
But for now, the empty corridors held a different kind of tranquility-a silence that was both heavy and promising.
As Dorothy walked down the long, dimly lit hallways of the Heavenly Halls, the cold and sterile atmosphere seed to mirror her internal state.
She moved with a purpose, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floors.
The grandeur of the building, though impressive, felt like a backdrop to her own solitary
journey.
She made a right turn at a nondescript wall, and as she approached, the wall seed to dissolve like mist before her eyes.
This passage, hidden from ordinary view, led her to a different part of the building-a dark room that contrasted sharply with the brightness of the rest of the academy.
Inside, the room was minimally furnished: a small table with a gently flickering candle and a
single white orb resting in front of it.
The soft light from the candle cast a warm glow over the orb, illuminating the otherwise
shadowed space.
The orb, pristine and unblemished, held an ethereal quality, its surface reflecting the candle's light in a way that made it seem almost otherworldly.
For the bright and sunny students of the academy who was full of life and hope, the dark, shadowy room would have seed ominous, filled with an unsettling sense of foreboding.
The dim lighting and oppressive silence might have felt alien and discomforting.
But for Dorothy, the darkness was a familiar companion, a soothing embrace that contrasted
with the relentless scrutiny of the world outside.
Darkness was her ally, a shroud that concealed her true self and her tumultuous past.
She took a seat gracefully before crossing her legs, the smooth movents of her body a testant to her poise and control.
As she settled into the chair, the ambient mana around her began to shift and dissipate.
The aura of her magical items, which had been subtly enhancing her presence and concealing her true nature, started to fade away.
Her flaxen-colored hair, once an artificial construct of her hidden identity, slowly unraveled.
The vibrant, golden hue of her true hair erged, a stark contrast to the bland appearance she
had been projecting.
Her eyes, initially masked to blend in with her surroundings, also transford, their shimring golden hue cutting through the darkness of the room like twin beacons.
In this dimly lit sanctuary, the truth of Dorothy's existence was gradually revealed. If any other students had seen her now, they would have instantly recognized her for who she truly was-a noble with a lineage of authority and power, her heritage marked by blood and status. Her true appearance, unadorned by the illusions and enchantnts of her everyday life, would have broadcasted her nobility and the weight of her inherited authority.
But Dorothy was acutely aware of the dangers that ca with her revelation. Her origins, tainted and sullied by the bastardian stigma, were a secret she guarded fiercely.
The authority and nobility she possessed were marred by the scandal of her birth, a fact that could unravel her carefully constructed facade.
As long as her true origin remained hidden, she could maintain her grip on the power and worth she had so diligently secured.
As the orb before Dorothy glowed softly, its light casting intricate patterns across the dark
room, the face of the man she both detests and depends on appeared within its shimring
depths.
The image that materialized was of a figure who bore a striking resemblance to her own, his visage marked by an aura of and
His golden eyes, reflecting both the light and his complex emotions, initially t hers with a
look of disdain before quickly shifting to a gentle smile of affection.
"Dorothy, my dear daughter, why have you called?"
The man's voice was smooth, laced with a tone of practiced warmth. Yet beneath his words lay
the familiar undercurrent of condescension that Dorothy had co to expect from him.
'Pfft...'
Every ti Dorothy encountered this reaction from him, it struck her as deeply amusing in a
bitter sense.
Despite his attempts to mask it, she could always sense the underlying hatred he harbored for
her.
It was clear that in his eyes, she was nothing more than a tool-an instrunt to be used and discarded-while his genuine affection was reserved for her true-blooded sister.
Dorothy's lips curled into a subtle smile as she regarded the image of her father. She had long harbored the belief that once she achieved greatness, he would acknowledge her
for who she truly was and properly integrate her into the family's legacy.
Yet despite her nurous accomplishnts and the power she had amassed, he had never once offered her the recognition or position she felt she deserved.
His carefully curated smile and the gentleness of his deanor were nothing more than a
mask, a facade to hide the contempt he felt.
To Dorothy, it was a nauseating display of hypocrisy-a constant reminder that no matter
how far she climbed or how much she accomplished, she would always be viewed as lesser, a
re shadow compared to her sister.
As she looked at the projection of her father, Dorothy felt a familiar churn in her stomach. The irony of his outward affection contrasted sharply with the reality of his disdain.
It was a feeling she had grown accustod to, yet it never failed to evoke a deep sense of
frustration and resentnt within her.
Dorothy's mind swirled with the unsettling realization of her place in her father's eyes. Was she truly a re embarrassnt, a source of disdain he could barely tolerate?
The notion was a painful one, but despite her deep-seated hatred for him, she knew she
needed his support.
Her mother's final wishes, and the promise she had made, demanded that she navigate this treacherous path with care.
A natural, albeit strained, smile curved her lips as she addressed her father.
"Lord William, my ti at the academy is nearing its end.... Once the next sester begins, I
trust you will uphold your end of the promise we made?"
Her father's expression, though initially unreadable, seed to hold a fleeting glimr of
amusent.
After a mont's consideration, he nodded his head in acknowledgnt.
"Of course, Dorothy. But are you prepared to follow through on our agreent?"
"Yes," Dorothy replied firmly, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
To Dorothy, the specifics of their deal had beco secondary.
Her role, however unflattering, had long been set: she would serve as a foil to her sister's brilliance, a shadow to her light.
Although the original plan wasn't like this....
She still accepted this fate with a resigned sense of duty.
Her existence had always been one of backstage prominence, never to be the star of the show.
'This is better than working hard for the expectations of this man....'
She had already relished the brief monts of recognition but she knew and understood that
her true place lay away from the spotlight.
The inevitable fall from grace, when it ca, would be another chapter in her life's narrative
—a final act that she had co to accept with a somber resignation.
Her primary concern now was to fulfill her mother's last wish, to honor the debt she owed
with her final actions.
Once her mother's wish was fulfilled, Dorothy's existence as she knew it would co to an end.
She would be free from the suffocating expectations and unspoken resentnts that had
defined her life. Dorothy Gale would cease to exist, her story closing with the quiet resolution of soone who
had played their part and then stepped away from the stage.
....
Waking up this morning, I had planned to make the most of my last three days in Han City,
savoring the peace and familiarity before returning to the academy. However, the realization hit that I should have started packing earlier. Now, I found
myself struggling with a mix of disorganization and the intense, curious gazes of the city's
residents.
"Darling, let's go over there~" Liyana said brightly, pointing towards a restaurant with dimd lights and a whimsical charm.
It was a curious establishnt-part tea house, part coffee shop, or maybe sothing in
between. The inviting glow from within promised a cozy respite from the bustling streets. As Liyana's fingers intertwined with mine, her grip was both firm and affectionate.
She practically dragged along, despite my protests the previous day about not wanting a public date.
Her excitent was palpable, but it didn't do much to ease my unease about being so openly on display.
Angelia, the capital of the Heavens duchy, was a vibrant city where everyone knew the duke and his beloved daughter.
The streets were alive with activity, and every glance seed to carry a blend of admiration
and curiosity.
The attention wasn't just from the occasional passerby; it was as though every person in the
city was aware of our presence and took a mont to note the sight of the duke's daughter with her fiancé.
'If only she would use her magic to conceal herself like she used to' Sigh... if she had done so, It would have made this whole outing much less cumberso.
There are only three days left until the academy reopens, and with it, the start of the second
act's first chapter, [Act 2 Chapter 1: Elections], followed closely by [Act 2 Chapter 2: Wits and
Plays].
This is a pivotal ti in the story, where the main heroines and the protagonist will take center stage, driving the narrative forward.
My role will be largely passive during this period; I plan to observe rather than interfere with
the core storyline of this stage.
However, the side characters, particularly Kagami and Gilbert, who also play significant roles
in this upcoming chapter, are where my focus will shift.
[Act 2 Chapter 3: Joining Sides]
Their involvent in this particular arc could influence the course of events in ways that
might disrupt or enhance the main plot, depending on how I handle their situations. Preparing my strategy for them will be crucial.
Amidst the whirlwind of preparations and strategic planning, looking at Liyana's contented
smile reminds to savor these final monts in my hotown.
For almost two weeks, she had been unusually considerate of my space, and her sudden burst
of enthusiasm for this public date was a stark contrast to her recent behavior.
'I guess I can indulge her sotis...'
The snow falling gently from the sky painted a serene backdrop to the bustling city, a
reminder of the calm before the storm.
The long vacation was coming to an end, and with it, the sense of normalcy I had grown
accustod to.
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