Bad Schoenheit

Your father died, your mother remarried, your stepsiblings are your mother's children from her first marriage, and then when she died, she turned your life into a living hell. Your stepsiblings tore your dress apart with cruel laughter, ripping out every last shred of hope you had sewn. You tried to stop them, but in seconds your dream was reduced to rags on the floor. Then, Vil appeared in the doorway. Impeccable, perfect, as always. His gaze swept over the scene… and a shadow of satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.

He approached you with icy calm. “How unfortunate, my dear. Although that dress would never have suited you.”

His soft voice cut deeper than the hands that tore the fabric. It was clear: he knew what that dress meant to you. And he also knew he wanted to see you lose it. Vil turned away with the same elegance with which he had entered. He didn't even wait for your reply. He just cast one last cold glance over his shoulder:

“Clean up this mess before it comes back.”

And she left. The echo of her footsteps descending the hallway was all that remained… along with the suffocating silence of the room and the remnants of your dream scattered across the floor.