Today is my grandfathers 70th birthday. He hosted a masquerade ball to celebrate, although it's more like a political get-together. It's a great opportunity for my elder sister to spread her wings and prepare for the day she takes over our family business.
"Second young miss, we're done dressing you up" my maid said as she looked at me with a pleased expression.
I gaze at the girl reflected in the mirror; her auburn hair up in a pretty braided bun.
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The mask that was prepared for me hid my freckles, which looked exceptionally glaring due to the simple make-up style my maid has applied on me.
I curled my lips subconsciously in a self-mocking way as I realized there wasn't any new jewellery for me. My auntie- no, not my aunt: my mother must have forgotten about me.
My parents went missing when I was 10 years old, and since I wasn't an adult yet, my aunt adopted me and decided to "guard" my property until I was of age.
Being the middle child of the household, as well as not coming straight out of her womb, I was most likely getting mistreated.
But to be honest, I wasn't really affected by any of this. I became numb.
In a dazed state, I reach my destination.
The banquet was fine. People kept approaching me every 5 minutes, trying to get me to introduce them to my aunt and uncle. I've greeted at least 15 people in the span of 10 minutes.
Alright, let me rephrase that real quick: the banquet was annoying. But hey, at least the food was fine. Actually it was delicio-
"Oh I'm so sorry ma'am! I'm so sorry!" A panicked waiter said.
What an awful banquet.
I looked at the red wine spilled all over my gown, and then calmly looked at the waiter. "It's alright" I say with a smile and excuse myself gracefully, not leaving a room for others to nitpick.
Oh man, one of these days, I'm going to burn down the whole residence to ashes.
As I walk down the hallway, my attention is grabbed by a huge painting. It was a painting of my grandma. A young, ferocious woman: her skin pale as snow and her eyes blazing hot. A powerful aura exuded from the painting.
That was my grandma, rumoured to be a really strict person. Almost everyone is afraid of her. In my memories, however, she was a really kind and gentle person.
Before she passed away, she handed me a key to her study. She gave one to all her grandkids, saying something about inheriting her genes, although I don't understand what she mean.
Sliding the painting to the right, a rusty old door appeared. A sense of inexplicable bitterness rose to my heart. Perhaps it was due to how dirty it was. It really is a forgotten room at this point, just like how everyone else moved on from her death.
I enter the room and instantly get hit with a rosy fragrance. 'is this magic' I wonder in a state of shock as I look at the clean, neat and tidy room. 'if someone cleaned it, then there would've been finger prints on the dusty door'
Bewildered, I enter further. The room was very vintage coded: it had a king sized bed, a study table, huge book shelves, an attached washroom and even a sink and stove. It was like a mini-one-room-apartment.
Even more shocking was how there was a balcony facing the ocean, and we were miles away from an ocean.
"Clearly magic" I say as I stroll around more. "Perhaps she hired a mage?"
A book suddenly catches my attention. It was old and used: every page of it was filled with words. I open it, assuming it to be a journal, but surprisingly it was a book dedicated to someone.
"Dearest , I don't know which one of you will be able to use magic, but I have especially prepared a study for your guide. I have made it so that unless you have my blood and a magician, you would not be able to enter the room"
"She was a mage?????????" My jaw hit the ground. Mages were pretty dang rare, and only 1 out of 10000 could be a mage.
"I've prepared a gift for you. Open the second drawer, you will find an item that will help you hide your identity"
I do as she said, and found an elegant Masquerade mask?
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'This is so refined and classy, especially the gems, which are the same colour as my pupils'
I start to feel joyful at the thought that she might have picked the item thinking about me. A part of me did say I'm just being delusional, but I don't care at this point.
Putting the mask down, I start reading the next page of the...
