On her way home, Rosaline paused as a vibrant poster caught her eye. It was for the upcoming ceremony at Avalone—the grandest celebration in the kingdom, honoring the Imperial Majesty's first wife. It should have been a day of joy, a day she'd dream about… but she already knew her biggest obstacle: Granny would never allow it.
Her heart sank.
Still, as the breeze rustled the edge of the poster, an idea sparked in her mind. Maybe tonight… I'll finally get answers.
She planned to ask her grandma two things that had haunted her thoughts: why people who wore colored clothes never got harmed by the vampires Granny always warned about, and why she—Rosaline—was forbidden to go out at night. Why was she the only one clothed in black like a shadow, when the world around her was full of light?
After school, she went straight to her grandma's small restaurant and helped her serve customers. The usual warmth was there, but Rosaline's thoughts were far away. At exactly 5 o'clock, Granny locked up the shop and they both returned home.
Rosaline stayed quiet all through dinner, waiting for the right moment. By 7 p.m., her curiosity could no longer be contained. She walked into her grandma's room, her voice soft but steady.
"Granny… why do people who wear colored clothes never get haunted by vampires like you always say? Why do I have to dress in black all the time?"
Granny froze, startled by the question. Her eyes narrowed with worry. "Because they're different from you," she replied sharply.
Rosaline blinked, frowning. "Different? How? They're also human like us. So how on earth are they different?"
Granny sighed, her tone growing firm. "They come from different parents, from different bloodlines. You wouldn't understand, Rosaline. Just follow the rules. It's not just you—I do the same. So why are you asking all these questions now?"
But Rosaline couldn't take it anymore. She stepped back, frustration pouring from her eyes. "I don't get it, Granny! That's not an answer! I just want to be like Maga and Cassie—wear what I want, go where I want, and live freely. You treat me like a prisoner!"
Her voice cracked, pain rising in her chest.
"When I was a child, I tried to understand you. But I'm not ten anymore—I'm sixteen! I can take care of myself!"
Before Granny could reply, Rosaline stormed into her room, slamming the door. The pain was too much. She collapsed onto her bed, whispering through tears, Why was I even born into this family…?
Outside her door, Granny stood silently, her face pale. She could hear the cries of the girl she'd spent a lifetime protecting.
Eventually, she entered the room with a small glass of juice. Her voice was soft. "Rosella…"
Rosaline turned quickly, startled. "I'm not Rosella, Granny. I'm Rosaline."
Granny blinked, as if pulled from a dream. "Of course. You are Rosaline. Every child has a name… and yours is Rosaline. I gave you that name so no one could ever take it away."
She sat beside her, brushing her granddaughter's hair gently. "Just like I named you, fate named this family. You were born into it. And no one can change that—not even you."
Rosaline felt a moment of warmth, a fleeting sense of peace. But the questions still clawed at her heart.
Taking advantage of Granny's calm, she asked again, her voice more pleading now, "Then please, tell me… Why can't I go out at night like everyone else? What are you protecting me from?"
Granny stood still for a long time. Then slowly, she turned and gazed at Rosaline with a strange intensity—one that held years of secrets.
But instead of answering, she sighed deeply and threw herself onto the bed, covering her eyes with her arm.
"She's giving me a headache…"
She pulled a blanket over herself and fell silent.
Far away, in a place where shadows danced and candles flickered against old stone walls, a tall figure stood by the window. His back was to the room, the moonlight catching the edges of his dark cloak. In one hand, he held a crystal glass filled with thick, red blood.
"Do you think she's Katherine?" Kavin asked from behind, his voice barely a whisper. "Maybe she just looks like her…"
Prince Stefan took a slow sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving the moon outside.
"I believe she is," he said coldly. "There's only one way to prove it—the mark. If she has the crescent-shaped birthmark, then there's no doubt. She is Katherine."
Kavin nodded grimly. "If that's true… then we need to protect her. Many will be against her return. Especially now… now that certain people have heard of that."
They both fell silent, the weight of unspoken threats thick in the air.
"We must keep this from Vincent," Kavin added.
Prince Stefan's gaze darkened. "Agreed."
And somewhere, under the same moonlight, Rosaline dreamed… unaware that eyes were watching, and destinies were stirring from the ashes of the past.