A small hand gripped a white one. The bed sheets were pristine, and the scent of roses drifted through the room. But that only made it more frightening. Young Vanessa felt the coldness of her mother's hand. "Vanessa... be strong." It was a faint voice. Her lips moved slightly, and then it was over. Silence. Vanessa made no sound. She didn't cry. She simply held that hand, remaining perfectly still. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Her father—Gilbert De Croire. Vanessa looked up. *He'll come*, she thought. But his footsteps passed by the door and faded away. Toward the administrative chamber. A servant's voice drifted from somewhere distant. "Poor thing..." No one came. No one held her. Sitting alone on the cold hallway floor, Vanessa wiped away her tears. (*Don't cry. Show no weakness. I must be strong.*) From that moment on, something changed. Her smile vanished. In its place, a perfect mask took hold. That memory scattered like mist. 　　　＊ "...Mmm." She woke up. An