A gentle-looking grandmother, her face softened by a kind and fulfilled smile, slowly closed the book. With the final words written, her lifelong wish had at last been completed.
She looked up to find the grand hall of the temple alive with laughter and warmth. Seemingly lively young girls moved about with devotion, cleaning and mopping the ancient floors as part of their duties.
The temple itself was old—ancient, even. Time had worn its walls and dulled its once-glorious splendor, leaving it visibly dilapidated. Yet its presence remained overwhelming, almost sacred, as though the goddess truly resided within its halls.
At the center of the temple stood a tall, timeworn statue of the goddess. She possessed an unparalleled beauty, clad in Roman-style garments and holding a gentle bundle of flowers in her hands.
Below her stood two smaller statues: an effeminate boy and a young girl, both kneeling in reverence, eternally serving and worshipping her.
Filled with excitement over the fulfillment of her dream, the old woman eagerly shared the news with her fellow sisters and the others present in the temple.
Her announcement was met with joy and surprise. Voices rose all at once as they urged her to read the story for them.
Pleased and deeply gratified by their reactions, the grandmother agreed—but not immediately.
Today was no ordinary day.
It was one of the seven most sacred days of the year in their lives, a day preceded by five days of celebration and festival. To them, the book recounting the story of their greatest benefactor had been completed on this very day felt nothing short of miraculous.
Yet the day’s schedule was far from finished. Many rituals still remain.
Gently, she asked everyone to complete their festive duties first. The story would be read in the afternoon.
They readily agreed and returned to their tasks with renewed joy and enthusiasm.
The grandmother herself moved to assist in the kitchen, her steps light despite her age.
By afternoon, all prayers and rituals had been completed.
The people who participated are all seemingly young girls and beautiful women.
The weather outside was calm and tranquil. Heavy clouds veiled the sun, allowing a cool breeze to flow through the open windows and fill the temple with comfort.
After lunch, everyone gathered near the feet of the goddess’s statue. They sat on the floor in a wide circle surrounding the grandmother, who took her place on a slightly elevated platform, the book resting quietly in her lap.
As silence settled, she began to narrate.
“Once upon a time, in the world of
Chrysalis Fall
, in the kingdom of
Abusoria
—
—beneath a children’s treehouse tucked away in a hidden corner of the garden belonging to the noble House of
Gildedvain
—
two girls, on the brink of their early teens, sat crying.”
Copyright © [January] [2026] [The Rainy Imp]. All rights reserved.
“Sister.”
…
“Sister, where are you?”
A young boy—seemingly no more than seven or eight—ran through the garden, calling out as he searched for his sisters.
He has a cute face and a clear, pleasant voice, with crimson hair and matching pupils. Despite his young age, there is something heroic about his presence, a quiet confidence in his posture that hinted he would grow into a strikingly handsome man
who will be a heartthrob for many women
in
a few years
.
“Waaah… waaah…”
(crying)
“Ha! There you are.”
The boy hurried forward, concern written across his face as he spotted the two girls crying beneath the treehouse.
One of them sat on the ground, sobbing softly. A thorn from a rose bush had pierced her delicate foot, and blood slowly welled from the wound.
She appeared older than the boy, seemingly just entering her early teens. She had fair skin, black hair, and dark pupils and timid demeanor. Even now, it was clear she would grow into a peerless beauty.
The boy knelt beside her at once.
“Don’t cry. I’m here with you.”
His voice alone seemed to calm both girls.
“How did you get hurt like this? Stay still for a moment.”
Carefully, he lifted her tender leg, gently removed the thorn, and tossed it away.
Turning to the other girl—who was also wiping away tears—he asked softly, “Sister, why are you crying too? Are you hurt somewhere?”
She shook her head.
“Then…?”
“Regina is crying, so…” she sniffed, rubbing her eyes.
The boy could only look at her helplessly.
She was Regina’s twin, but unlike her sister, she had a tomboyish demeanor. Her skin was a light chocolate tone, her hair blonde, her pupils yellow. Like her sister, she carried the promise of becoming an outlandish beauty someday.
Regina sniffled, still wincing in pain.
“Does your foot still hurt?” the boy asked gently.
"hmm,"
she nodded.
He gently lifted her foot. “Pain, pain, go away.”
He pressed a light kiss to the wound causing a ticklish sensation, making Regina burst into laughter.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked, smiling.
“Hehehe, no,” she giggled, suddenly throwing her arms around him.
Seeing her sister laugh, the blonde girl joined in, hugging him as well.
All three of them laughed idiotically carefree.
After a while, the boy spoke again. “Sister, why did you come here? Everyone is looking for you.”
Regina’s expression changed. She grew timid, stubbornly lowering her gaze.
“I… I don’t want to go.”
“Why?”
“Father says it’s very important, and we can’t fail. Or our family will lose face.”
Her voice trembled as the words spilled out.
“What if we do badly and make Father and Mother sad?
What if Father throws us away, like that maid, for being useless?
What if they don’t want us anymore?”
She hugged her knees tightly. “I don’t want to go.”
The blonde girl nodded silently in agreement.
The boy chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. Father and Mother won’t do that. She was a maid—you’re their daughters.”
“No matter what, there’s no way parents could truly hate or be cruel to their own children.”
“Really?” asked the girls expectantly.
“Really”
He placed a hand over his chest, “and even if they did, I’d still be here. I’ll always take care of my two sisters.”
“Even if you do badly, I’ll find a way to make you the best.”
He puffed out his chest with pride, his expression full of confidence—as if to say,
leave it to me
.
“Wow, Aydin, you’re amazing!”
To both girls, their brother looked impossibly cool.
“Hahaha—”
Suddenly, a soft, pleasant laugh echoed nearby.
They turned toward the sound.
A noblewoman stood there, no more than in her twenties—elegant and breathtakingly beautiful. She wore opulent clothing befitting her status, her fair skin and flowing blonde hair lending her an almost radiant presence. Two maids followed respectfully behind her.
“Mother!”
All three children rushed forward at once, throwing themselves into her arms.
The woman knelt gracefully to receive them, drawing them into a warm, reassuring embrace.
Her name was Victoria—the lady of House Gildedvain, and the second wife of the current marquess.
“Didn’t I tell you, Madam?” one of the maids said with a chuckle. “You would find the young master and misses here.”
This was Isolde, Victoria’s personal maid, a woman seemingly in her late thirties with a calm, knowing air.
“Yes, you were right,” Victoria replied with a fond smile.
“Recently, they’ve been spending far too much time in that treehouse,” the other maid added, glancing upward. “They can’t bear to be apart for even a few hours.”
The speaker was Vesper, one of the household maids—seemingly in her twenties, with tanned skin, brown eyes, slightly sexy silhouette, sharp features, and faint dark circles beneath her eyes that hinted at long nights of work.
“Indeed,” Victoria sighed lightly. “It makes me wonder if allowing them to build their little hideout was a mistake.”
Giggling, she reached out and pinched both girls’ chubby cheeks.
“Don’t worry. We won’t throw you out.”
“Ouch, Mother—that hurts!”
The twins quickly wriggled free of her merciless fingers, rubbing their abused cheeks in protest.
“It should,” Victoria said, smiling despite her scolding tone. “What do you think you’re doing? We have to travel long distances. Do you understand how busy we are today with all the preparations?”
“Sorry, Mother,” the twins apologized in unison, their heads lowered.
“Regina, Hilde—you are both eighteen now. And your brother Aydin is four years younger than you.”
“You are his older sisters. You should be strong and reliable for him—taking care of him. Not the other way around.”
The girls fell silent, dejection creeping into their expressions.
Isolde chuckled slightly, “Madam, don’t be hard on them, once they complete their ceremony, they will soon start to mature outgrowing their childhood selves.”
“I know,” Victoria smiled.
In this world, the average lifespan of a person is far longer—roughly two hundred years, though it varies from individual to individual. Mental and physical maturity also progressed much more slowly.
Though eighteen marked legal adulthood, one’s body and mind at that age remained similar to those of a child just entering early adolescence.
Old age was only truly felt during the final ten years of life.
Thus, anyone who appeared mature was often far older than they seemed—yet their mental age did not always reflect their years.
For Regina and Hilde, their physical age was eighteen, but their bodies and minds were still those of young girls on the cusp of puberty.
Childhood, in this world, lasted far longer.
When a boy or girl reached the age of eighteen, they were brought to a temple to undergo a ritual meant to awaken their magical talents.
Along with this awakening came physical transformation—the body would finally begin to mature.
The ritual was therefore of paramount importance. It could determine not only one’s future, but sometimes the fate of an entire family—or noble house.
“Shall we go now?” Victoria asked gently. “We still need to complete our preparation and start our journey to the capital.”
“Is Aydin coming?” the girls asked at once, turning to their brother.
Victoria rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Yes. He’s coming too.”
“Then we’ll go!” the twins replied brightly, their earlier gloom instantly forgotten.
The maids struggled to hide their laughter as Victoria let out a helpless sigh.
“Very well,” she said. “Let’s go.”
The three children followed after their mother, with the two maids close behind.
Inside a luxurious, horse-drawn carriage bearing the crest of House Gildedvain, Regina and Hilde pressed their faces close to the window, eyes sparkling as they eagerly took in the scenery of the capital city of the Kingdom of Abusoria.
“Mother, Mother—look at that!”
“All right, all right,” Victoria said with a helpless smile. “Calm down, you two.”
She sat beside them, watching their excitement with fond indulgence. Next to her was Aydin, who—though far less animated than his sisters—was also gazing curiously through the opposite window at the city they had just entered after a long journey.
Seated across from them was the Marquess himself—the current lord of House Gildedvain, Marquess Vane Von GildedVain.
He wore a deep, saturated crimson formal coat trimmed with subtle gold embroidery. Its sharp cut emphasized his tall, lean, muscular build. With slightly tanned skin and neatly kept black hair, he appeared to be in his forties—heroic and handsome, yet carrying a naturally strict and stern air.
To his left sat Victor, Marquess Vane’s eldest son and Aydin’s half-brother. He wore attire similar to his father’s, though simpler in design. Fair-skinned and strongly resembling the Marquess, he appeared to be in his mid-teens.
Victor remained silent. A faint crease of displeasure lingered on his face as he watched the unrestrained excitement of his stepsisters.
Noticing this, Victoria spoke with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, my lord. They’re a little restless.”
“Haha, don’t worry, sister,” came a light, amused voice. “They rarely leave the marquessate. And this is their first visit to the capital—it’s only natural they’d be excited.”
The one who spoke was Adia, the first wife of the Marquess, seated to his right.
She is a beautiful noblewoman, seemingly in her early thirties. While elegant and refined, her beauty carried a different quality from Victoria’s—graceful rather than radiant, yet it can’t be comparable to Victoria.
“Besides,” Adia continued teasingly, “our husband doesn’t mind at all. Everyone knows he’s strict with others, but a complete softie when it comes to his daughters. After all, girls are the father's apple of their eye.”
A faint blush crept onto the Marquess’s stern face. “What nonsense are you saying?” he grumbled.
Both women laughed.
Seeing his father cornered, Aydin spoke up out of sympathy. “Father, where are we going now?”
The Marquess looked momentarily grateful for the timely interruption. Straightening, he replied, “We’re heading to our villa in the capital.”
“We have property here?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Every aristocratic family maintains assets in the capital in addition to their own territory.
“Whenever we are summoned by the king or attend official matters, it would be inconvenient to arrange lodging each time. So we secure our own residence.”
He continued calmly, “The capital itself is divided into circles. At the center stands the royal castle. Surrounding it are the villas of noble houses—the aristocratic district.
“Beyond that lie the residential sectors for commoners and official establishments, divided into various wards.
“The outermost circle is the
disgusting
slum district, where the poor and lower class people live.”
Aydin nodded. He had already read about this in books. Having successfully redirected the conversation and rescued his father from embarrassment, he returned his attention to the city outside.
The streets were clean, the buildings orderly, and the people bustling with purpose. Everything seemed peaceful—prosperous, even.
Then, suddenly, a strange sight caught his eye.
It made him frown in confusion.
Copyright © [January] [2026] [The Rainy Imp]. All rights reserved.
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