​“It’s alright, Hana. Life doesn’t always turn out the way we want it to,” the nun said softly, her kind eyes holding an unspoken warmth.

​Hana’s voice quivered. “...How can you say that?”

​The nun smiled, gentle yet firm. “Because sometimes, we have to feel the sting of the pain to learn how to walk past the thorns.”

​“Thorns?” Hana echoed, brow furrowing.

​“Someone once told me that our paths are scattered with thorns—and enduring them is the very reason we are able to bloom,” the nun reassured her softly. “Endure the pain for a little while longer, Hana. In time, you’ll find your garden.”

“Have you seen the roses in the garden?”

“Yes,” Hana replied, her voice became softer.

“Even though there’s a sign that says, ‘Do not pick the flowers,’ people still pick them, don’t they?” the nun added

Hana tilted her head, contemplating the question. “Because flowers are beautiful, and they give them to someone they love, to show their care and affection.”

The nun’s gentle laugh filled the air. “Exactly. But tell me, do you remember what I always say about the signs?”

Hana’s lips curled into a small, playful smile. “‘Excuse me brothers and sisters but there's is a sign right there and It says, Do not pick the flowers!’”

The nun laughed heartily, a sound like wind chimes on a breezy day. “Oh, Hana." she said, rising and walking toward the garden. She paused beside a peculiar flower. “People usually pick the most beautiful flowers they see, right? But have you noticed no one has picked this one? Do you know why?”

“Why?” ahh I know

.... Because it has a sign that says, ‘Beware, it’s poisonous.’”

“This flower is called the ‘Queen of the Night,’” the nun added, her voice carrying an air of mystery.

"Queen of night?" Hana replied

​“Legend says it only blooms once every 7,777 years, on the night of the brightest full moon. If you whisper your wish to the flower while it blooms, the Goddess of the Night will hear it. But it will only bloom in the place where it first sprouted; even if people uproot it and plant it in their backyards, it will never bloom again.”

​“So... there’s a reason people don’t pick it,” Hana giggled, though her laughter was tinged with a trace of melancholy. “I wish I’d get picked... so I could finally have a family.”

The nun turned to Hana, her gaze softening. “You are your own flower, Hana. Each one of us has our own soil to grow in.”

Hana’s eyes lingered on the Queen of the Night flower, her mind wandering.

“And there’s a reason why people haven’t picked you yet,” the nun continued, her voice soothing. “Even flowers with thorns are admired and cared for.”

“But beautiful things last longer when they’re appreciated and loved without being taken away,” Hana murmured, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

The nun placed a comforting hand on Hana’s shoulder. “The life you wish for will come to you, Hana. Embrace the difficulties for now. Soon enough, someone will treasure you like the most precious flower in the garden.”

Suddenly, the warmth of the garden faded, replaced by a suffocating chill. Hana blinked, her vision adjusting to the dim, oppressive room.

Dust coated every surface, lingering like an unwelcome memory. The air was thick and stale, the faint light from a cracked window illuminating particles that danced mockingly.

She lay on a sagging bed, its mattress threadbare and unforgiving. The pillow beneath her head was no better, discolored and flat, offering no comfort. A crooked wooden table sat beside the bed, its surface marred with splinters. A rickety chair leaned against it, threatening to collapse under the slightest weight.

In the corner, a heap of shredded clothing lay discarded, a haunting reflection of her tattered existence. Her once-healthy frame had withered, her limbs frail, her skin stretched tight over brittle bones. The cold seeped through her ragged attire, each icy gust a cruel reminder of her solitude. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, and despair clung to her like the dust in the air.

“Ugh... So much for the precious flower,” Hana muttered bitterly, her voice hoarse as she shifted on the creaking bed.

She stared at the cracked ceiling, her thoughts tangled in memories of the nun's comforting words. Yet here she was wilted, forgotten, left to weather the harsh winds alone.

For now, she thought grimly. For now.

In the dimly lit servants' quarters of the royal palace, three maids huddled together, their voices barely above whispers. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere charged with intrigue.

“Can you believe it?” one maid began, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Princess Leth has spent her entire life in Ashengil Castle.”

“Right?” another maid replied, rolling her eyes. “The forgotten palace of the emperor, hidden away at the back of the royal garden. It’s strange to think that a princess grew up in such a place.”

The third maid leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “Especially with its dark history. They say that’s where the first empress cheated on the emperor.”

The first maid nodded, her expression grave. “He was so loyal, so devoted to her. It must have torn him apart when he learned she was pregnant by another man. well history repeats itself.”

“Imagine the shame that must have brought upon the royal family,” the second maid added. “That betrayal left a mark on this castle, turning it from a place of love and betrayal.”

The third maid shivered slightly. “And now, poor Princess Leth has to grow up in a place that’s haunted by the ghosts of the past. I can’t imagine how she feels knowing the weight of that betrayal.”

“It’s got to be gloomy,” the first maid mused, her brow furrowing. “To know that the castle, once filled with warmth and love, is now a reminder of her mother's mistakes.”

As the maids continued to speculate, the weight of Ashengil Castle’s history pressed heavily on their minds, a constant reminder of how love and betrayal could shape destinies in ways they could never foresee.

In the dimly lit servants' quarters, whispers filled the air like a hushed breeze. Three maids huddled together, their voices tinged with frustration.

“Ugh! I can’t believe the head maid transferred us here,” one maid grumbled, crossing her arms.

“I know, right?” another chimed in, rolling her eyes. “This palace is so poor, it’s embarrassing. Even the so-called princess barely eats. How is she even alive?”

The third maid nodded, her brow furrowing. “Seriously. With how frail she looks, it’s a wonder she’s still breathing.”

Meanwhile, inside Leth’s room, the atmosphere was heavy with uncertainty. Leth sat on her cold bed, her fingers brushing against the worn wood of the bedpost. She gazed into the distance, lost in thought.

“I wonder that myself... Why am I still alive?” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “It’s because I somehow reincarnated into some kind of novel or something...” The unsettling truth washed over her, sending a shiver down her spine.

She glanced at the old book lying on her desk, its pages yellowed with age. “And here’s what makes things interesting,” she said, a hint of defiance creeping into her tone. “Roses Don't have Thorns. The book I’m in... Let me give you a brief story "

Long ago, the goddess gifted four humans with incredible powers to cast out the seven princes of hell. These four became the first rulers, balancing light and dark, establishing peace in the realm.”

She took a deep breath, her heart racing as she continued. “And it’s where this all Trio came in the crown prince, who’s the main lead, the high priest as the second male lead, and, of course, the female lead.”

A heaviness settled in her heart as she continued. “In this world, the Empire of Lychnis, the most powerful and influential empire, was attacked by demons from hell. In 18 years' time, the empire will fall into chaos, and the story revolves around the Trio’s efforts to save it an epic struggle for survival, love, and betrayal.”

As memories flooded back, she recalled the tales she had heard as a child. “In this empire, gifts from the goddess were bestowed upon noble families. The royal family received the power of the sun and moon, ruling with light and majesty. The Grand Duke was granted shadows and a death curse, wielding dark powers that instilled fear. The Marquess was gifted with healing and swordsmanship, a protector of the realm. And the Earl was endowed with a shield and telekinesis, able to defend against any threat.”

But doubt crept in, and Leth’s hand clenched into a fist, trembling slightly. “Yet that’s what I thought when I knew that I was going to die at 18 years old—because of this stupid cursed mark on my thigh.”

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, her voice laced with determination. “In ten years, the empire will be swallowed by darkness, and from the ending of this novel, the final boss was never revealed. Tragic, right? Where I thought I wouldn't be here before that happens.”

With a fierce resolve igniting within her, Leth concluded, “But I won’t let it end like that. No matter what the book says, I’ll rewrite my own story. But first, I must flee from this palace.”