13 years ago.
Rosalin had lived only a handful of years — four, to be precise — yet within that brief span, she had already co to understand a truth about her life...
That it was unbearably cruel and unfair.
Before she could learn to run, she already learned what it ant to be unable to stand, and how to swallow pain in silence.
Her small body refused to obey even the simplest wishes of her heart. To raise her arms was exhausting. To sit upright was an effort. Sotis, breathing also felt like a struggle. But worst of all, even the gentlest fever could cast a shadow of death over her frail existence.
Life, for her, was sothing that demanded constant effort simply to maintain.
From afar, she watched other children laugh without worry, chase one another without fear, and tumble freely beneath the sun. They lived with an innocence that assud tomorrow would co.
But Rosalin could only observe... and endure.
Such was the fate given to a child born with Darberg Syndro.
A disease that was widely known in this world.
Most infants born with this disease did not live long. Many died only a few months after taking their first breath, unable to endure the harshness of the world. And even if so managed to survive past infancy, their future was still filled with hardship.
Because the disease was incurable and required constant care, dicine, and money... many families simply could not afford the burden, no matter how much it hurt their hearts.
So parents, drowning in fear and despair, chose to abandon their child, believing they had no other choice.
Others, terrified that their child would live a life full of endless pain and suffering, made an even crueler decision... ending the child’s life before that suffering could grow.
Wasn’t it cruel, to have given such a fate to children who had done nothing to deserve it?
Yes, it truly was.
As it turned out, Rosalin was ant to share that sa fate. That was what everyone believed — for her own good.
But her eldest sister refused to accept such reasoning. She stood firmly against the decision, unwilling to let such things decide Rosalin’s future.
Even if it ant trading away pieces of her own life...
And because of that...
Rosalin was still here.
Sleeping peacefully in her chamber, as the soft morning light slipped through the window and gently touched her small, fragile figure.
As her consciousness slowly ca, she began to hear voices.
There were two of them, voices she knew intimately well.
"So, how is she?"
The first voice was soft yet laced with a tender and anxious tone that carried a quiet sense of maternal concern.
It was her mother.
Then, the man receiving the question replied. He was Rosalin’s personal doctor assigned by the Lord.
"It is as I have reported in my previous letters, Lady Malvena. Young Lady Rosalin has been improving these past few months. Her pulse is stable, and her body is not under as much stress as before. Compared to four years ago... she is much better now."
He gave a small, thoughtful nod, as if confirming his own observations.
"It seems the Elixir is finally settling well in her system. If her progress continues at this pace, I would recomnd beginning very light rehabilitation starting next week."
"Don’t worry. It is nothing demanding. Just simple guided movents to help her body grow accustod to activity little by little. We will proceed carefully and adjust according to her tolerance."
He gave her a reassuring smile.
"Anyway, in my opinion, this is definitely a good news, my lady."
"Thank goodness..." her mother whispered softly, her voice trembling with relief as she raised both hands to cover her mouth.
A gentle smile appeared on her face.
At last, there was a chance that her daughter might live a life closer to that of other children... a life where she could laugh, play, and grow without constant fear shadowing every mont.
Yet to Rosalin, who kept her eyes closed and pretended to remain asleep, the feeling was not so simple. She did not know whether she should feel happy about it.
Though she was only four years old and had never received any formal education, Rosalin had always been strangely sensitive to the feelings of others.
From the faint tremble in her mother’s voice...
Rosalin could tell that her mother’s smile was not only relieved.
Even when that good news was given, there was still sothing heavy hidden behind it, sothing that never truly went away.
Because while Rosalin’s life had been spared, her mother was still mourning the one who had given everything so that she might live.
Azphira, Rosalin’s elder sister, had lost her life while searching for the Elixir said to cure the illness that bound Rosalin’s fragile body.
At that ti, Rosalin did not yet understand what death truly ant.
The idea of soone being gone forever was still distant to her. But slowly, she began to learn what it ant for soone to never return.
Each evening before Rosalin drifted to sleep, her mother would sit quietly beside her bed. In a voice softened by mory, she would speak of Azphira — of how kind she was, how strong she was, and how deeply she missed her.
Her mother’s voice always changed when she spoke of her.
It beca softer.
There was tenderness in those monts, and also sorrow...
Then one night, when her mother believed Rosalin had already fallen asleep, she spoke words that were never ant to be heard by any child.
As she rested her head gently beside Rosalin’s pillow, her voice barely more than a breath, she murmured quietly to herself,
—"No matter how many tis I look at you... you really do resemble her."
—"I wonder..."
—"Would Azphira still be here... if you had not been born."
That night, after hearing those words, sothing within her small chest beca heavy in a way she could not explain.
It was not pain, and yet it hurt.
A feeling that sothing about her existence had caused soone else to disappear.
Was it guilt? Perhaps, it was.
Though, she only understood it in the simplest way a child could, that her mother’s heart had been wounded because of her.
And that realization, however vague...
Made her feel very, very small.
As for her father, he seldom ca to visit her, and the few tis he did were brief and restrained.
Because of this, Rosalin sotis felt like she was left behind. It was not that she believed they did not care for her, nor did she think she was truly alone...
But there were monts when everything around her felt a little too silent, and a little too empty.
Still, even with that small loneliness in her heart, there was one reason she always wanted tomorrow to co.
The next morning, as usual, she could already hear their footsteps coming in, echoing through the corridor, followed by the dull bump of soone colliding lightly with the door.
A sudden commotion ca beyond her chamber door.
"You’re slow, Ignes. I ca here first," one voice said coolly, yet edged with quiet insistence.
"That’s ridiculous," another voice shot back imdiately, bright and lively. "I was literally around that corridor before you even turned the corner... How!?"
"You should use your head more. There’s always a shortcut to arrive here quicker. But it’s not like you know how to use it."
"What!? Ashen, that doesn’t count then! Using shortcuts is unfair!"
"It does."
"It absolutely does not!"
Even with the door closed, Rosalin could still hear their voices clearly.
When she heard them, a restrained, wistful smile slowly took shape on her face. The small sadness in her heart lightened just a bit.
It was for this that Rosalin always looked forward to the next day.
So that she could see her....
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[Chapter 113: Two Elder Brothers]
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