Lady Maerina's voice echoed through the hallway.
"Someone! Anyone, come help!"
But no footsteps came. No reply. Just silence.
She turned back toward Jane, her face still wearing that carefully crafted expression of panic—but her eyes couldn't hide the frustration creeping in.
"Where is everyone?" she said, pretending to be confused. "Why aren't they coming?"
Jane peeked one eye open, just enough to see her mother's face, then shut it again quickly.
She knew why. Every servant in this mansion had been told to stay out of it. No matter what they heard. No matter what Lady Maerina screamed.
They weren't allowed to interfere. Not today.
"Hold on, dear," Maerina said again, now crouching beside the bed. "I'll… I'll go fetch help myself—"
"No," Jane mumbled, her voice quiet, shaking. "Stay… please."
Lady Maerina hesitated, like she hadn't expected that.
Of course she hadn't.
Jane let out a soft, fake whimper, curling slightly as if she was in pain. It was all going according to plan. But deep inside, her heart beat calmly. Her mind was clear.
This wasn't fear.
It was patience.
She waited just a few more seconds… until Maerina's hands gripped the edge of the bed, her expression now a mix of smugness and fake sympathy.
And then—
Then Jane laughed.
At first, it was small—just a breath through her nose. But it grew quickly into a soft giggle, and then into a sharp, echoing laugh that filled the whole room.
Lady Maerina froze.
"…What?" she asked, voice dropping.
Jane sat up slowly, her violet eyes now wide open and glowing faintly.
"Oh, Mother," she said, smiling way too wide. "Your acting was amazing. Really. I almost clapped."
Maerina's smile vanished. Her hands clenched the blanket, hard. "What are you talking about?"
Jane didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached to the nightstand, grabbed a small glass vial—the antidote—and popped the cork with one hand.
"You really thought I'd eat anything from you without a backup plan?" she asked, tilting her head playfully.
Then she drank it in one go.
The effect was instant. A purple light burst across her skin like fire beneath the surface. It lit up her veins and her mark, glowing from her fingertips to her collarbone.
Maerina stepped back, shielding her face from the sudden brightness. "What… What did you just do?!"
Jane stood.
No more shaking hands. No more forced smiles.
The glowing magic around her faded into a soft violet mist. Her feet hit the ground lightly, and she moved toward her mother, dragging the chain still tied to her ankle—until she stopped, stared at it for a second, and with one sharp twist of her wrist—
Clink.
It shattered.
The cuffs that had been locked around her for days, maybe weeks—gone in an instant.
Jane rolled her neck slowly. "You don't have to pretend anymore, Mother. You don't have to take care of me. Not after this."
Maerina's mouth opened, like she wanted to say something. But nothing came out.
And then, Jane raised her hand. Violet smoke began to swirl at her feet.
"I'm done being your obedient little daughter."
And just like that, her body vanished into the mist—leaving behind only silence… and the terrified face of Lady Maerina.
_____
Jane appeared in a small, quiet village far away from her family's mansion. The air here felt different—calmer, lighter. The sky was bright, and the road beneath her bare feet was warm from the sun.
She walked slowly down the main street, taking everything in.
People were busy. So busy, in fact, they didn't even notice the girl in a wrinkled nightdress with glowing violet eyes walking through their town like some lost princess from another world.
A man pushed a wooden cart full of cabbages, sweat dripping from his forehead.
A woman shouted prices over a stall packed with apples and onions.
A group of kids chased each other with sticks, laughing so loud Jane could hear them from across the street.
One old man sat fixing a bicycle, his fingers black with grease.
Jane looked around at all of it, wide-eyed. The noise, the smell, the movement—it was so alive here. So… normal.
And yet no one noticed her.
Not the odd-colored eyes. Not her strange clothes. Not the faint glow of leftover magic clinging to her skin.
It felt… nice.
No expectations. No chains. No one telling her what she could or couldn't be.
She was just a girl now. A girl on her own, in the middle of a village that didn't know her name or even who she is.
Maybe it was because her parents always kept her hidden since she was little. That's why people barely knew her face. Everyone only knew her older brother, Julian.
She'd been hidden so well, some people even thought Jane had some kind of physical disability—like the House of Ardent was too ashamed to show their daughter to the world.
Jane chuckled quietly. That dark memory… it just passed through her mind like an old rope swinging by.
Ever since she found out there was a strange power inside her, she'd started focusing more on learning magic, growing her skills—and for a while, she could forget the sadness and loneliness that used to weigh her down.
Jane stopped walking when the smell hit her.
Warm. Buttery. A little sweet.
Her eyes widened as she turned her head toward a small, crowded bakery on the corner of the street. The wooden sign above the door was faded and a bit crooked, but the place was packed. People lined up outside, chatting while waiting for their turn.
The smell wrapped around her like a hug.
She stepped closer and peeked inside.
The shelves were filled with bread—fluffy rolls, golden loaves, small cakes with shiny tops. Behind the counter, a sweaty man with flour all over his apron laughed loudly as he handed out paper-wrapped buns to the customers.
Jane took a deep breath.
So this was the smell of fresh bread.
Her smile grew without her even noticing. Before awakening as a witch, Jane had no sense of taste or smell. It was part of her "giftless" condition. The world had been gray and dull in so many ways—literally.
But now?
Now the air smelled like magic. Like butter and warmth and joy.
And for once, Jane felt the freedom. The freedom she's been longing for a really long time.