Penelope’s POV
A child born into a warm, gentle family, she grew beneath the quiet glow of love.
From the day she was born, her parents doted on her with a tenderness that never wavered. They were only commoners, living by selling cakes and bread in their small bakery, hands always dusted with flour and hearts always full.
Yet within those humble walls lived a warmth that felt richer than anything in the world, soft as breath, steady as a heartbeat that never faltered.
"Pene... co inside, darling. Papa made your favourite chocolate cake," my mother called, her voice gentle and warm as it echoed through the bakery.
I had been outside, playing with the other children, but the mont her voice reached , I ran without hesitation.
The wooden door creaked softly as I pushed it open, and there they were.
My mother stood near the counter, her smile pure and welcoming, while my father looked at with quiet pride, as though the world itself had arrived just to see him.
In that mont, surrounded by their warmth, I felt sothing settle deep inside , sothing complete.
There was nothing more I could ask for.
Other children wore fine clothes, their fabrics bright and soft, and carried toys I had only ever seen from afar.
Yet none of that stirred even a flicker of longing within . What I had here felt fuller, richer, as if my small world held everything I could ever need, wrapped gently in love and simple joys.
I took a bite of the cake, cheeks puffed slightly as the sweetness lted across my tongue, and through the open doorway, I noticed the children I had been playing with.
They stood there quietly, peeking inside with wide, curious eyes, drawn by the scent and the warmth.
I hesitated and glanced up at my father. He t my eyes, understanding without a word, and a soft smile spread across his face.
"Why are you all standing out there?" he called warmly. "Co in. I made plenty for everyone."
His voice carried no hesitation, only kindness, and my mother was already moving, gently placing plates on the table, preparing for each child as if they had always belonged there.
The children stepped in slowly at first, then with growing ease, their faces lighting up with small, genuine smiles that felt as pure as the mont itself.
"Mama and Papa are the best," I said, unable to hold back the pride swelling inside as I looked at them.
Those days were filled with a quiet kind of magic, the kind that didn’t need grandeur or spectacle.
It lived in shared als, in laughter, in the way my parents looked at as though I were their entire world.
People would say we were poor, that we had little, that our lives were small and simple. But they never understood.
They never saw what I saw, never felt what I felt.
I was the richest girl in the world!!
As long as I was with my family, nothing else mattered.
Nothing could ever make feel lacking.
One afternoon, as the golden light of the sun softened around us, a boy stepped forward from among the children. He was the sa age as , our neighbour’s son, his hands trembling slightly as he held out a small flower, its petals uneven but carefully chosen.
"W-When I grow up... we can make cakes together," he said, his voice shaking, yet determined in its own fragile way. He took a breath, gathering what little courage he had.
"S-So... will you marry ?"
His words fell into the air like sothing unfamiliar, sothing I couldn’t quite grasp.
"H.. h..." My voice caught, lost between confusion and sothing I couldn’t na.
I stood there, staring at him, my thoughts tangling together.
Marry?
Make cakes together?
But I already make cakes with my family.
That’s where I belong.
A strange fear crept into my chest, quiet but sharp.
I-Is he trying to take away?
The thought felt too big, too frightening to understand.
My chest tightened, and before I could stop myself, tears welled up in my eyes. I turned and ran, my small steps uneven as I rushed into the bakery, straight into the safety of my parents.
I buried myself in their embrace, clinging to them as if letting go would make everything fall apart.
I cried without knowing why, only knowing that sothing felt wrong, sothing I couldn’t explain.
My mother gently stroked my hair.
"It’s alright, dear," she said, her voice calm and soothing, like a lullaby ant to quiet a restless heart.
"That’s just how boys are at this age. They say things they don’t fully understand."
She pulled back slightly, cupping my face with a tender smile that held both warmth and quiet amusent.
"We are not going anywhere. We will always be right here with you," she continued softly. "Even your father was just like that when he was little, you know."
My father chuckled faintly in the background.
My mother tilted her head slightly, her eyes gentle yet curious.
"So... do you like him?" she asked.
"I like... him?" I repeated slowly, the words unfamiliar on my tongue.
I frowned slightly, trying to understand what she ant, but the feeling didn’t co.
I only knew one kind of love, one kind of closeness.
And that was the one I felt right here, within this small bakery, wrapped safely in my family’s warmth.
But if I were to compare it to my favourite cakes, I would say... my parents were chocolate cake, rich and comforting, and that boy was vanilla... my second favourite.
As I explained it to them, trying to make sense of my own feelings, my mother smiled warmly, her eyes soft with understanding.
"That ans you like him—"
"Hah... haha... so that day has co... ahaha... looks like I need to step up my ga," my handso father said, laughing under his breath while holding a baking knife in his hand.
Yet for so reason... sothing about his expression felt slightly off, like a shadow passing too quickly to grasp.
Before I could think too deeply about it, my mother gently pulled closer, her hand resting on my head as she soothed . She explained what I should do about the boy’s proposal.
She told to wait, to give myself ti until I truly understood what those words ant, until my heart could answer without confusion.
So I told him exactly that.
The boy’s shoulders dropped slightly, his face dimming for a mont as disappointnt flickered across his eyes.
But he quickly straightened, forcing a small yet determined smile.
"I will try my best then," he said, his voice steadier than before.
For a brief second, his smile felt warm, almost shining... and I didn’t know why, but sothing inside my chest tightened, a strange, unfamiliar ache brushing against my heart before fading away.
As ti passed and I began to grow, I started to understand more about the world around . I learned why our lives were the way they were, why my parents worked so hard yet remained where they were.
Both of them were blank card holders.
Yes... That’s what the world called them... Useless Arcane Card Holders.
Even in those ridiculed, they still smiled and loved !
And so, I decided that I would change that.
If there was a way to make our lives even more beautiful, then it had to be through .
I needed to awaken my powers.
I began training in secret, pushing my small body little by little, hiding my efforts behind quiet determination. I wanted to surprise them. I wanted to give them sothing they never had.
They say the earlier you train your body, the higher your chances of receiving a better Arcane Card.
And I believed that with all my heart.
I wanted to surprise my parents... and him too, the boy who had proposed to and still acted so silly whenever we t.
Before I realised it, the day of the ritual had arrived.
"Darling, no matter what happens, we will always love you," my mother said, her voice trembling slightly, as if she were rembering sothing from her past.
"Yes," my father added, his tone firm yet filled with warmth. "Those cards will never decide your future. We will. Do you understand?"
Their words wrapped around like a shield, and I nodded slowly, holding onto that warmth as I stepped forward.
For a mont, I glanced toward the boy.
When I waved at him, he imdiately blushed and hid behind his parents, peeking out shyly.
So cute...
Sowhere along the way, I had started noticing these small things about him. The way he acted, the way he smiled...
Was this what people ant by being in love?
I wasn’t sure.
The ritual continued, one by one, children stepping forward toward the Mother Root. When it was his turn, I saw him hesitate for a few seconds, his hand trembling slightly before he reached out and touched it.
And then...
A bright, golden light burst forth.
A Golden Card erged.
Gasps spread through the crowd as everyone turned in shock. Just like that, his future had been decided without him even lifting a finger.
Good for him.
As he walked back, he looked at with a proud expression, his chest slightly puffed as if he had already succeeded in winning over.
’Hmph. Dream on, boy. You need to learn how to make cakes first.’
I lifted my chin slightly, pretending not to care as my turn finally ca.
When I stepped forward, I could feel my parents’ gazes on .
My mother and father were silently praying, their hands clenched, their hopes resting on sothing they never had.
Even though I had told myself that I didn’t care...
Sowhere deep inside my heart, I still longed for sothing.
’Oh great Mother, I didn’t ask for gold, not even silver... even a copper would be enough. Enough to let my family have a ho... enough for to stay beside the boy I love.’ I thought... no, I prayed, my heart quietly begging the goddess for rcy.
A small blush crept across my cheeks as I glanced at my parents and then at the boy, both of them watching with bright, hopeful smiles, their belief in shining without doubt.
I took a slow breath, steadying myself, and reached forward...
... Blank Card?
"..."
For a single mont, everything stopped.
The world I had imagined... the happiness I held so tightly... shattered into countless, silent pieces.
The whispers ca...
"Useless."
"Another waste."
"Just like her parents"
Their voices echoed around , repeating again and again like a cruel verdict that refused to fade.
Before I could even process it, I found myself pulled into my parents’ embrace, their warmth surrounding as if trying to shield from everything.
"I... I am sorry for being useless, Mom, Dad."
I uttered, my voice breaking as tears stread down my face.
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