weakens

Amid the storm of betrayal and sacrifice, their encounter awakens both love and danger,

Chapter, 1
WEAKNESS

This was not the first time my mother and I standing among the wealthy and arrogant people. Yet, despite the crowd around us, my attention was fixed on the breathtaking ship anchored in the middle of the ocean. It stood like a jewel upon the water, offering a sweeping view of the endless horizon from every side.

There it loomed, a leviathan of beauty rising from the dark waters, its silhouette etched against the storm-brewing sky. From every side, it commanded the ocean, its decks gleaming like polished bone, its masts piercing the heavens. For a moment, I forgot myself. I forgot to blink, to breathe. Amidst the endless roar of the sea,

"Was this the ship my mother bought with the last fragment of my father's memory"?
Yes. She had bartered away the final trace of him without hesitation. For her, it was necessary. She has always known how to keep her beauty unblemished, her glory intact--no matter the cost. and she would sacrifice anything to preserve them.

And now, this ship was to become my prison. Here, she would sell me to a man both worshiped and feared in the city--a man gilded in riches, cloaked in reputation, infamous for his extravagance. My mother had chosen him. I had no choice. Who would ever accept me? I carry my curse in silence: my broken voice, my stumbling tongue. Because of it, I am not seen as flesh and blood, but as something else entirely. A shadow. A ghost.

"Girl, are you frozen? Why do you stand there like a pillar?" my mother hissed, her eyes burning with fury, her voice sharp enough to cut.

The ship swallowed us whole as we stepped inside. Every corner was dressed in opulence--the wooden floors shone with a strange, cold gleam, the chandeliers cast shadows that danced like restless spirits. Couples drifted past us, hand in hand, their smiles radiant, their laughter cruel to my ears. Their joy was a blade that twisted deeper with every step I took.

Then a voice rose, grand and hollow, echoing across the vessel:
"Welcome, honored guests. From the owner of this ship--may your journey be most pleasant."

'Pleasant'. The word tasted bitter.

At last, we reached our room, and with each step, the walls seemed to close in tighter, as though the ship itself already knew my fate.

The room was small, almost delicate, though its elegance was undeniable. Every detail spoke of wealth and refinement, yet to me it felt like a gilded cage. Heavy drapes fell around a narrow window, and through it I could see the sea--dark waves curling and unfolding like restless creatures whispering against the hull. For a moment, it almost felt safe, a fragile illusion of peace.

"My dear," my mother said, her voice dripping with false tenderness,
"you have the entire day to rest. Tonight, we attend a most magnificent event, and my daughter must outshine them all. You will be the brightest jewel, the one they cannot look away from."

Her words pressed against me like iron shackles. Beauty. Glory. Display. She spoke of me as though I were nothing more than an ornament, polished and set upon a pedestal.

I opened my mouth just barely to protest, to whisper the words that trembled at the edge of my throat. But before a sound could form, she was gone. The door closed, and with it, the last trace of her presence vanished. I was left alone with the silence.

Then, suddenly, I felt it. A subtle tremor beneath my feet. The floor seemed to shift, alive, as though the ship itself had awakened. and with it came the dreadful certainty thought that my journey had begun not just across the sea, but toward something far darker, something I could neither name nor escape.