Jane's eyes landed on a fluffy golden roll sitting neatly behind the glass counter. It had a glossy top, sprinkled with what looked like tiny seeds. She didn't even know what kind of bread it was—and honestly, she didn't care.
She wanted it.
She leaned a little closer to the counter and saw the tiny wooden price tag beside it.
3 Arvenia copper coins.
Her smile faded.
She checked her pockets… and then remembered—she didn't have any pockets. She was still wearing her thin, wrinkled nightgown from the mansion. No shoes. No money. No nothing.
Jane stepped away from the bakery window and stood to the side, just out of sight.
She sighed.
Well. It was worth a try.
Unless…
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Her thoughts drifted far—back to the mansion. To her parents' room. Her mother's dresser. The top drawer, right side. She could picture it clearly. A small black leather clutch stuffed full of Arvenia coins and a few folded paper bills. Lady Maerina always kept it there.
Jane focused harder.
She whispered a soft spell under her breath, fingers twitching slightly.
Then—poof.
She felt it before she saw it.
A little weight in her hands.
She opened her eyes and grinned.
There it was. Her mother's clutch.
"Sorry, Mom," she muttered, already flipping it open.
_____
With the warm bread finally in her hands, Jane stepped away from the bakery, her eyes shining with excitement. She took a bite—and froze.
The outside was crunchy, but the inside? Soft, warm, slightly sweet. Her eyes widened as the flavor hit her tongue.
"Oh my god," she whispered, covering her mouth. "So this is what bread tastes like?"
She couldn't stop smiling. For someone who had lived her whole life without being able to taste anything, it felt like magic. A simple piece of bread suddenly became the most amazing thing in the world.
She walked through the village slowly, enjoying every bite, her eyes watching the people around her. Children ran past with wooden toys, a man pushed a wheelbarrow full of pumpkins, and an old woman argued over the price of eggs. Everything felt... alive.
And for once, Jane didn't feel like an outsider. She felt like she belonged. Like she was just another girl, walking through town with bread in her hand and freedom in her chest.
"Freedom tastes better than I thought," she said softly, taking another bite.
As Jane reached the end of the street, something caught her eye.
Jane stood in front of the small house for sale, reading the wooden sign that hung a little crooked on the fence.
"For Sale – 200 Gold Arvenian Coins. Slightly broken window, nothing serious."
She raised an eyebrow. "Slightly broken? That whole window's missing."
The house looked old, but not in a scary way. It had a slanted roof, chipped paint, and a little garden full of weeds.
But somehow… it looked cozy.
Jane paused, chewing the last bite of her bread. She tilted her head and stared at the place like it was speaking to her.
"A home, huh?" she mumbled.
She didn't have one anymore. Not really. The mansion wasn't home—it never had been. That place was full of chains, secrets, and poison. This? This was small, forgotten, a little messy… but it was real.
It was hers if she wanted it.
There was no one guarding the house, just a dusty mailbox and a bell hanging on the front door. Jane walked around it slowly, peeking into the windows. One room had wooden shelves and a small fireplace. Another had a bed frame and cracked mirror.
She pulled out the clutch she had "borrowed" from her mother's room. There was definitely enough money inside. What the hell? Her mother really likes to save cash in her clutch, it's really dense.
With a small smile, Jane took one last look around, then turned toward the village notice board near the square. That's where she saw it—the name of the seller. Mr. Rovel. There was an address scribbled below it. A few blocks away.
"Alright then," she whispered. "Time to go buy my first house."
_____
Jane finally found the house seller — a short, slightly hunched man with a thick mustache and a coat that looked too warm for the sunny day. His name was Mr. Rovel.
When he saw Jane walking toward him with bare feet, and her sleepwear still slightly wrinkled, he raised an eyebrow. She didn't exactly look like a buyer. Sure, she was pretty — stunning even — with her long black hair and those strange violet eyes. But she also looked like someone who had just escaped from an asylum.
"You're here to see the house?" he asked, glancing at her from head to toe.
Jane nodded. "Yes. I want to buy it."
Mr. Rovel hesitated.
Jane smiled calmly and asked, "It's two hundred gold Arvenian coins, right?"
Mr. Rovel blinked. "Uh… yes, that's the listed price."
Without another word, Jane opened the clutch she had been holding close. Inside, neatly packed, were stacks of paper bills and shiny golden coins — way more than what was needed. Mr. Rovel's eyes nearly popped out.
"I'll take it," she said casually, like she'd just bought a bag of bread.
A few minutes later, after checking and counting everything twice, Mr. Rovel handed her the certificate and deed to the house and land. He still looked confused, but he couldn't argue with coin.
Jane gave him the brightest smile she had worn in a long time.
____
Jane stepped into her new house.
The door creaked loudly, and the smell of dust hit her nose right away. The floorboards groaned under her feet, and cobwebs decorated every corner. The windows were cloudy, and the furniture — if you could even call it that — looked like it hadn't been touched in years.
But Jane smiled.
"This is perfect," she whispered.
It wasn't a fancy mansion with silk curtains and polished marble floors. It wasn't filled with strict rules and fake smiles. It was just… a home.