I slammed the door shut and let out an "Oof!" as I leaned back against it, a small, involuntary noise escaping my lips. My chest heaved slightly, part from the exertion, part from the absurdity of the situation. Was I the odd one here? They were the ones grappling with that God-awful drink, faces contorted in a mix of bravery and regret, yet here I was, feeling a strange cocktail of amusement and—strangely—guilt.
PEFT!
The sound of my own stifled laughter broke the tension, and I couldn't help but let out another quiet, satisfied chuckle. The image replayed in my mind: him, always composed, always flawless, reduced to sputtering and coughing over a drink that could probably strip paint from walls. The contrast was deliciously absurd.
I tried to stifle a giggle, biting the inside of my cheek, but a small laugh still slipped past. My shoulders shook with quiet mirth, and I had to remind myself that perhaps feeling a little bad for enjoying someone else's misfortune wasn't entirely wrong.
"A-are you okay, Lady Serena?"
The voice was tiny, almost trembling, like a mouse peeking from its hiding hole. I spun around, my laughter dying abruptly in my throat. There, standing near the doorway, was Raul. His big glasses magnified his wide, horrified eyes, and his expression screamed panic—or perhaps sheer confusion.
"Raul? How long have you been standing there…?" I asked, the jolt of realization hitting me. He had no idea what had just happened, no clue why I was suddenly erupting into quiet laughter in the middle of an otherwise tense room.
"Ahem." I cleared my throat, forcing myself to adopt a more composed, dignified posture. The giggles subsided into a faint, lingering smile. "Oh, right, Raul. May I ask you something?"
His relief was immediate, almost palpable, like a dam finally giving way. "Sure, go ahead!"
I took a deep breath, letting my gaze wander out the window as if gathering courage from the cloudy, expansive sky. "About the eight families…"
"The eight families were other business families that my grandmother associated with," I explained, the image of my formidable grandmother seated on her throne flashing vividly in my mind. The way she carried herself—unshakable, commanding respect—was the very image of power. "In other words, it was a social group of sorts, a network that helped each other maintain and expand their businesses."
The eight families, including mine, had once ushered in a new era for the kingdom, combining wealth, influence, and strategic marriages to stabilize the economy. But time was unforgiving. Their heirs—supposedly the next generation of visionaries—had squandered opportunities, letting greed and corruption fester. Eventually, Serenity was the only one left standing, maintaining its reputation and fortune.
And yet, even as the other families crumbled, they shamelessly paraded themselves as partners in Serenity's success. They leveraged the social group's name and Serenity's prestige to lure investors, only to leave a trail of bankruptcy and debt behind them. Cleaning up after their failures had become our burden, a task my grandmother and mother had shouldered with quiet precision.
"Despite all that, my mother and grandmother sent flowers and invitations to them every year." My lips curled into a sneer. "Those bastards…"
I turned to Raul, narrowing my eyes. "If this has been going on for so long, why wasn't I told? It would have been nice to know what I was walking into."
Raul shifted nervously, the glare of the room bouncing off his glasses as he adjusted his tie. "Well… they were worried… that you might do something rash if you knew…"
"WHAT?" I exclaimed, my voice sharp, disbelief cutting through the air like glass.
He quickly glanced down, words tumbling out in a rush. "If you had known, you would have been furious and would have tried to sever all ties immediately…"
He hesitated, as if measuring each word carefully. "…Since the roots of Serenity's business are so closely intertwined with the eight families, cutting ties abruptly could have been… catastrophic."
"…rather than cutting them off in one go, we had to unravel each knot slowly," Raul concluded, tracing invisible lines in the air as he illustrated the tangled web of Serenity's relationships. That was why Grandmother Iansa and Mother, Lady Bellatia, had always been so careful in handling matters with the other families—one wrong move could topple everything.
He gave me an example, his voice precise, almost clinical. "The ships and overseas operations that the hotel uses to import luxury goods are managed by the Edmond Family, one of the eight families. And we have an exclusive contact for the continent's finest beans, owned by the Will Family—also part of the eight."
I nodded slowly, piecing it together. "So in the end, that means they needed time… to create alternative arrangements, to replace the eight families' influence without collapsing our operations. We needed the time to secure or acquire a company to take their place."
Raul hesitated, then added the final, infuriating twist: "…but they kept it from me because they thought I would lose my temper and ruin everything."
I crossed my arms, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the slight sting of insult. "Right. I see how things really are."
Well… I suppose I can't entirely blame them. After all, it was true. In my mind, a tiny, chibi version of myself appeared—eyes flaming, fists clenched, plotting the complete downfall of the eight families if given the chance.
A Cat and a Puppy
I moved across the lavish sitting room, letting the soft rug cushion my steps, and found a spot on the opulent sofa. The sudden, booming sound of laughter cut through the air, startling me.
"HA HA HA!"
I looked up. There he was, formally dressed in a sharp blue suit, completely doubled over in laughter.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes.
He managed to catch his breath, straightening slightly, a wide, teasing smile still on his face. "It's not every day I get to see you flustered like this. So… how could I not laugh?"
I gave him a cold glare. "I fail to see the humor. Can you please leave? I need to go wash up."
The man—a striking figure with dark hair and that irritatingly easy charm—gave a slight shrug, the playful glint in his eyes lingering as he slid his shoes softly across the floor and exited without another word.
A passing attendant leaned close to another, whispering as if sharing a juicy secret. "Honestly… she's Harper's sister, but how can they be so different? Harper was like a sweet little puppy, but Ms. Serena? She's definitely a cat."

I watched her walk away, the graceful, angry set of her shoulders speaking volumes. Every line of her posture screamed determination, defiance, and unspoken strength. The attendant's whispered gossip about a "cat" and a "puppy" still lingered in my ears, a small, amusing echo amidst the weight of what I had just witnessed.
I toweled off, the damp cloth hanging forgotten in my hand, as my mind replayed the brief conversation. When she spoke of the eight families, she looked like a bloodthirsty predator—eyes sharp, movements precise, pride radiating from every gesture. Competitive. Fierce. Feisty, even.
"Well…" Raul's voice broke through from the other room. "She wasn't always that vicious and aggressive. It's because her heart was closed up for a long time."
Closed up?
I paused, letting the words settle. I pictured her—the real Serena, the one sequestered for years in her private world. For years, she had been trapped in that room, drowning in depression and anxiety, her vibrant personality suppressed, her strengths locked away behind invisible bars.
If she had been given the chance to take over this place like she was meant to, those traits—her pride, her competitiveness, her stubbornness—would have been invaluable. Both Iansa and Bellatia had been like that: bold, ambitious, and unyielding. These were exactly the attributes an owner needed to survive and thrive in this world.
But without an outlet, her strength had nowhere to go. Instead, it had become sharp, reckless, defensive. Her irritability, her anxiety, her hypersensitivity—they weren't flaws, not really. They were symptoms of a life lived under constraint, of a power and personality too fierce to be contained.
"Oh, that's right!" Raul's sudden exclamation pulled me from my thoughts. "Harper did say his sister had a happy personality and always smiled. That's… completely different from the Ms. Serena we know now."
He frowned, lost in thought. "I think he even mentioned she was very affectionate… but I must be mistaken. She doesn't seem like that at all."
Raul sighed, shaking his head. "It looks like you have Ms. Serena completely figured out. Well, you've always been good at that sort of thing."
I stared out the window, letting my gaze drift over the distant horizon. Figured out? If I hadn't been able to see these things, perhaps I would've preferred ignorance. The deeper I understood her—the more I recognized the pieces behind the pride and ferocity—the more complicated the game became. And the more dangerous.
Authors pov
The male protagonist, whom we shall call Eiser, stood shirtless, a towel draped over his broad shoulders, drying his hair after a quick wash. His thoughts, however, were far from idle. He replayed the conversation he had with Raul earlier, the words lingering like a subtle echo in his mind.
"It looks like you have Ms. Serena completely figured out. Well, you've always been good at that sort of thing," Raul had observed, his tone both admiring and cautious.
Eiser sighed inwardly. He would have preferred not to know. If he hadn't been able to see those things—her carefully constructed defenses, the traces of the girl she used to be… He paused, feeling the weight of the knowledge settle like a stone in his chest. And if Raul hadn't asked that favor—pulled him back into this gilded cage—then perhaps he could have stayed distant, a perfect stranger.
But Eiser knew, with the clarity of a practiced observer, what was necessary. "She'll eventually return to her old self, once she starts doing what she was meant to do." The fierce, raw competitiveness he glimpsed in her—her refusal to yield even when exhausted or cornered—was proof. Serena always belonged here, in the middle of the business, the politics, the struggle. And it was precisely that belonging that kept her moving forward.
Raul had walked away, comforted by the reassurance, but Eiser lingered, studying the faint impression Serena left behind. When she spoke to Raul, a gentle, almost innocent smile graced her lips, yet the look in her eyes hinted at a silent warning. That cat-like vigilance wasn't cruelty—it was a defense mechanism forged by years of confinement and anxiety, a way to survive in a world that demanded both compliance and cunning.
A Few Days Later
A few days later, the heavy door opened with a soft STEP, and Serena entered, her presence a striking blend of elegance and comfort. She wore a vibrant red dress paired with pink bunny slippers, a curious mix that seemed to mirror her restless energy. With a long, drawn-out yawn, she admitted, "Gosh, I feel like I might die of exhaustion."
The thick stack of papers she carried was imposing, the weight of responsibility tangible in her grip.
Eiser, a towering, muscular figure with dark hair, waited patiently. He took a single STEP toward her, calm but commanding.
"Welcome back," he greeted, his voice cool, his gaze sweeping over her tired yet determined expression.
"All this reading is making my neck stiff," she complained dramatically, stretching her shoulders. "The muscles on my beautiful neck are cramping up."
Eiser's hand reached for the heavy file she carried, moving with fluid precision. "Let me take that. It looks heavy." The large, official-looking yellow document slid easily from her hands into his, a silent signal that the work had begun.
Serena had started on the path she was meant to tread. The room that had once been her cage of anxiety had been traded for a desk brimming with debt, contracts, and strategy. Exhaustion weighed her down, yes—but each page she turned, each decision she confronted, drew her closer to the sharp, competitive, and unyielding self that had been waiting all along.

my hands, his fingers brushing mine in the briefest contact, and I felt that familiar spark of attention flicker between us.
"All this reading is making my neck stiff. The muscles on my beautiful neck are cramping up," I grumbled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Ugh… This never happened when I did ballet."
His gaze lingered on me, sharp and curious. "Why did you… quit ballet?"
I stepped back, a faint SLIDE of my pink bunny slipper on the polished floor, and caught my reflection in the glass panel of the hallway. "Well… I just lost interest as I grew older." My eyes drifted to the manual, now resting neatly on a nearby table. "I think I'll go to bed later tonight."
"Because of that book?" he asked, nodding toward the weighty yellow volume, his tone carrying a subtle, playful challenge.
"Yes. It's the hotel manual, and I haven't had the chance to go through it yet. I want to finish it today."
He raised an eyebrow. "Can you read and remember everything in that thick book?"
I pulled off the light pink blouse I'd been wearing, letting it DROP to the floor, and turned toward him, the rich magenta dress underneath hugging me just right. A light SLIDE of movement followed as I tossed my hair over my shoulder. "Well… I'm pretty good at memorizing things. Didn't you know I was the top of my class at Dalincour?"
A satisfied sigh escaped me. "Ever since I started working, I'm always busy until the moment I can finally rest. I've finished the tedious invitations, so the rest should be easy enough…"
I paused, realizing how absurd that sounded. "…apart from the fact that we have a tight schedule."
We walked together toward the business wing, our STEPs echoing lightly against the marble floors. The workload was overwhelming, yet unlike the suffocating loneliness of my room, this exhaustion felt purposeful—productive.
I knew my mother and grandmother had kept the eight families' mess hidden—those bastards—because they feared I would lose my temper and unravel everything. I understood the caution, given how deeply Serenity's roots intertwined with the other families, but I resented the lack of trust.
I saw the situation clearly now. A small, chibi version of myself—the one who had wanted to tear down every last one of them—popped into my mind, fists clenched, eyes blazing. Well… I couldn't entirely blame them; that version of me was dangerously accurate.
Still, there was no denying it: this company needed me now. Fierce, determined, competitive—exactly the right kind of force to shake things up. A cat among puppies. And I was ready.
The hotel manual was heavy, but the weight of expectation pressing down on me felt even heavier. I sank into the chair, the pages of the dense book splayed open before me like a fortress of knowledge I had to conquer.
"I was going to quit tomorrow anyway, so it doesn't really matter," I murmured under my breath, thinking of the ballet I had abandoned long ago—the freedom of movement, the discipline, the perfection of form.
Fedrick walked toward me, his long strides measured and deliberate. "Did your mother force you to do ballet?"
I shook my head, my eyes tracing the fine lines of print, as if the words themselves held secrets to my future. "No, she didn't. I started on my own when I was six. It helped with my posture and back muscles… but I lost interest as I grew older." My gaze drifted for a moment, remembering the elegance and control of each movement, before snapping back to the thick yellow manual.
He didn't press the subject further, opting instead for a sharper, more immediate topic. "Serenity has a tight schedule for the next week."
I didn't need to look up to know exactly what he meant—the first wave of debt payments, critical business meetings, and strategic decisions all looming like storm clouds. "I know. I've already finished making the payment schedule for all the eight families' debts. The rest of the work shouldn't be a problem."
Fedrick's expression remained unreadable, a hint of surprise flickering behind his carefully guarded eyes. He studied me with that analytical gaze that seemed to pierce past appearances and into the very structure of my mind.
"Can you really do all that?" he finally asked, his tone sharp but not unkind.
"What?" I countered, a slight edge of annoyance creeping into my voice. Did he really doubt me, after everything I had achieved academically and personally?
"Don't you know I was the top of my class at Dalincour?" I tossed my hair back with a confident flourish, as if the gesture could reinforce my words.
He inclined his head slightly, unflinching. "But that was a long time ago."
The Inevitable Reckoning
Fedrick might have thought I was working to prove I could take over Serenity, but he didn't know the full truth. I wasn't doing it to impress anyone—I was doing it to survive. To prove my worth to my family, to the world, and, above all, to myself.
I stared down at the sprawling documents before me. The eight families had left an absolute mess, a web of debts and dependencies that had been deliberately hidden from me. Grandmother Iansa and my mother had kept me in the dark, and now, I understood why.
If I had found out earlier, I would have lost my temper instantly, severing ties without thought or strategy—and that would have been catastrophic. But now, as I took control of the business, I could act with precision. I was already working on forging new partnerships to replace the unreliable Edmonds and Wills.
My plan was simple, clear, and ruthless: cut all the roots of the eight families that were deeply intertwined with Serenity, and then cut them off completely.
A cool, ruthless smile crossed my lips. The era of caution and careful unraveling was over. It was time for a clean, sharp break.
The robe's fabric was soft against my skin as I stepped out of the bathing chamber, steam trailing behind me like a fading shroud. My footsteps were light but steady—an old dancer's grace blending seamlessly with a CEO's purpose.
The business wing was quiet, still waking from the dawn. My freshly printed payment schedule lay where I had left it, a battlefield map waiting for its general.
I approached it slowly, letting the silence settle around me.
Everything was in place.
Every number aligned.
Every deadline precise.
Every family accounted for.
A satisfied breath slipped out of me. This… this is what power feels like when you earn it.
Behind me, I sensed movement. Fedrick. Even without turning, I could feel his gaze—sharp, questioning, evaluating me with a quiet intensity.
"You're up early," he said softly.
"I never went to sleep." I crossed my arms, not out of defensiveness, but out of triumph. "And look."
I handed him the finalized schedule—pages dense with strategy, timeframes, financial analysis, and contingencies. The veins of Serenity's future, laid bare.
He scanned it, his expression shifting from skepticism to something else—respect? Admiration? Maybe even wariness.
"You actually… did all this overnight?" His voice was low, careful.
"I told you," I replied, my tone calm but edged with pride. "I'm good at memorizing. And even better at handling things people think I can't."
Fedrick leaned back slightly, the document held loosely in his hands. "You really aren't the same person you were in Dalincour, are you?"
I smiled, a dangerous curve of lips that carried both elegance and warning.
"No. I'm someone much more useful now."
His eyes drifted to the payment schedule again. "If you follow this plan… the eight families won't just lose leverage. They'll lose everything."
"That's the point." I stepped beside him, tapping one of the critical deadlines with a freshly washed finger. "I'm cutting every root they've strangled Serenity with. And once they have nothing left to cling to—"
My voice softened to a whisper, almost tender:
"I'll cut them off."
There was no rage in me now, no panic, no trembling fury.
Only clarity.
Precision.
Focus.
A former ballerina who once danced on polished stages was now poised at the edge of an entirely different performance—one far more dangerous, far more delicate, and far more exhilarating.
Fedrick exhaled, almost a laugh. "Your grandmother and mother really underestimated you."
"No." I lifted my chin slightly, eyes darkening with resolve. "They were afraid of me."
For the first time, Fedrick didn't challenge me. He didn't question, didn't doubt. He merely folded the schedule carefully—almost reverently—and handed it back.
"When do you start?"
I tied the robe's belt tighter around my waist, the gesture crisp and decisive.
"Today."
And in the quiet dawn light, surrounded by marble and the faint scent of bath oils, I felt it unmistakably—
The curtain was rising. The audience was waiting.
And I was ready to take the stage.

chapter 21 end
Story Art Ina
Tip's
EISER AND LOVIS ATTENDED HARPER'S FUNERAL
(THE FAMILY FUNERAL), BUT SERENA HAS NO MEMORY OF THEM BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T TALK TO ANYONE AT THE TIME.