When I heard about my brother's death… it felt like taking a blow straight to the chest. The world seemed distant and silent. Only the maid's voice — announcing Aaron's death — echoed endlessly in my mind.
In that moment, I felt my already fragile world completely collapse.
He was everything I had. My safe haven. The only warm presence in that cold house where everyone looked at me with disdain.
"Miss Elisa, the family patriarch has called you to his office." The maid spoke with a cold voice, not even trying to hide the contempt in her tone.
"Alright, I'm coming." The response came out automatically. My mind was still processing my brother's death.
"Be quick. The patriarch won't waste time on someone like you." After the icy reminder, the maid left the room, slamming the door without any respect.
In that moment, I lost all the strength that had been keeping up my strong façade. My body collapsed onto the bed as tears rolled down my face.
Remembering the patriarch's summons, I took a deep breath, searching for strength where there was none left, and forced myself to get up, walking with difficulty toward the wardrobe.
Each step felt heavy, as if I were carrying my shattered world on my back.
When I opened the doors, the sight of all those colorful dresses filled my heart with pain and sorrow. Most — if not all — were gifts from my brother.
My fingers brushed a black dress at the back of the wardrobe. Its gothic, somber style had never appealed to me, but now it felt like the most fitting choice for my situation.
Getting dressed by myself had never been easy, but today it was nearly impossible. Because of my congenital illness, my body was far too weak. And he… Aaron… He was the only one who always helped me. Even if I never asked, he would suddenly appear to lend a hand.
As I struggled to put on the dress, I kept glancing around. Hoping to see my brother, with his warm smile, coming to help me, like he always did.
But… he never came...
And now I knew...
No matter how much I waited...
He would never appear again.
After much effort to get dressed, I walked to the door. My legs trembled, and the tears came back, streaming down once more. I had to use every bit of strength not to collapse in sobs on the floor. Because if I fell, I wouldn't be able to get up — and my brother wouldn't be there to help me.
I just want my brother...
Wiping the tears from my face, I touched the doorknob and tried to open it. A simple action, but at that moment, it felt impossible. As if, by opening that door, I would be saying goodbye to the last layer of protection between me… and a world that only knew how to look at me with contempt.
I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I wished that when I opened them, it would all have been a nightmare — that he was still here, that everything was just as it used to be.
But the silence… the silence spoke the truth.
And then, as if my mind wanted to shield me from the pain, I was pulled back to a very distant day.
An old memory, long forgotten.
I must have been around eight. I was curled up behind the greenhouse in the garden, my knees scraped and my face covered in tears.
I had lost again.
The other children always laughed at me. Said I was weak, that my sick body made me useless. They loved seeing me fall.
That day, they had pushed me into the mud again. And as always, no one did anything.
Except him.
"So this is where you are." Aaron's voice was calm, but concerned.
He knelt beside me, his white cloak now stained with dirt as it touched the ground.
"Again..." I murmured, hiding my face in my arms. "I lost again..."
He didn't tell me it wasn't true. Didn't try to pretend I was strong. Instead, he sat beside me in silence for a while. He was just there — present.
"Elisa," he finally said, with that gentle tone that felt like a hug from the inside, "do you think losing is the same as being defeated?"
"Isn't it?" I asked, still sobbing.
He gave a small laugh.
"No. You're only defeated when you give up."
"...But I can't beat anyone."
"You don't need to win now. You just need to keep going." His eyes sparkled with unwavering certainty. "You have a strong heart, even if your body doesn't follow. One day, that will take you farther than you think."
He ran his hand through my messy hair and smiled:
"You're not defeated when you lose. You're defeated when you give up."
His words echoed in my mind. As if he had said them just yesterday to encourage me.
My hand gripped the doorknob more firmly.
Even with my chest crushed by pain, even with the world feeling empty without him… I was still here.
And as long as I was here — as long as I didn't give up — I wasn't defeated.
I wiped the tears with the back of my hand. The door opened with a soft creak. And I walked toward the patriarch's office.
As I walked down the hallway toward the office, the black dress trailing softly on the floor, I heard whispers behind me.
Those voices…
Those voices I knew so well.
"Now that the prodigy is gone… I doubt that useless girl will stay in this house for long."
"She can't even dress herself. Without her brother, she'll just be stumbling around like a ghost."
"A disgrace to the bloodline. No talent, no strength… she's only survived this long because of him."
I felt my hands clench into fists, but I kept walking. Like I always did. Pretending not to hear. Pretending not to feel.
"Elisa should be thankful if they kick her out soon. It'd be the first favor this family ever did her."
"Did you see how she looked? Doesn't even seem like she's mourning. Looks more lost than ever. She's just going to be dead weight from now on."
They knew I could hear them. And yet they spoke. As if they wanted to break me a little more. As if my pain were a spectacle to be discussed over tea.
I swallowed hard. Each word was like a small knife pressed into my skin, but what hurt the most... was that deep down, part of me believed them.
I was weak. I was useless.
Without Aaron...
I quickened my pace. If I stayed there a second longer, I would fall apart. And I refused to give them that pleasure.
I shut my eyes tightly, breathing in deeply. I couldn't break down here. Not now.
Those words... they were like chains trying to pull me back into the depths. But Aaron wouldn't let me fall. He never had.
"You're only defeated when you give up." His voice echoed softly within me, as if he were right beside me.
I let the air out with difficulty. I straightened my back. Squared my shoulders. Lifted my chin. My hands were still trembling, but I took another step. Then another. Even though my soul was in pieces, each step was a silent scream of resistance. A quiet defiance against the fate they were trying to impose on me. Even if I might collapse the next second. I would be strong.
The hallway felt longer than before. The cold walls of the mansion seemed to press in on me, reminding me with every step that I didn't belong there.
But I kept going.
Not for me.
For him.
For Aaron.
When I reached the large carved wooden doors, I hesitated.
This was where everything would change. That conversation wouldn't be about condolences. There would be no comfort from the patriarch. There was no kindness in that office—only judgment, cold decisions, and perhaps... the beginning of my exile.
My hand went to the doorknob. It was ice cold.
For a brief moment, I wished Aaron were on the other side of that door. That this was all just a nightmare. That he would open it with a smile and say everything was fine.
But the silence answered for me. And I knew. He wasn't there. He never would be again.
I swallowed the pain like poison. And with what little dignity I had left, I knocked gently on the door.
One knock. Two knocks.
"What are you waiting for?" said a rough voice from the other side. The patriarch's.
Without waiting any longer, I pushed the doors open and stepped in.
Even weak.
Even grieving.
Even despised.
Because as long as I kept walking… I was not defeated.
The heavy doors closed behind me with a dull thud, muffling the whispers from the hallway. The room was silent—cold as always. Luxurious rugs, heavy antique furniture, and a fireplace lit only for appearance, not warmth.
The patriarch of the Gracefall family sat behind his desk, fingers interlaced in front of his face. His eyes—cold as ice—stared at me with no trace of compassion.
"Close the door," he said without even raising his voice.
I had already done so, but still nodded, more out of habit than respect.
I stood there, in front of his desk. No offer to sit, no gesture of condolence. It was as if the name "Aaron" had never existed. As if he hadn't been the heir, the prodigy, the pride of that family.
He let out a heavy sigh, like someone annoyed at having to waste time on something irrelevant.
"Your brother... left this for you." He pulled a small letter from a drawer and pushed it across the desk, using gloves so he wouldn't have to touch it directly, as if it were something contaminated.
I stepped forward carefully. The edges of the envelope were worn and bloodstained, as if Aaron had written it on his deathbed, using his last strength. My name was written on it in his handwriting. Thin. Elegant. Familiar.
I wanted to open it right there. But I knew I couldn't. Not in front of him.
"With Aaron's death," the patriarch continued, his voice as indifferent as a statue's, "the privileges you received through his influence also end."
The words fell on me like stones.
"The Gracefall family will no longer fund your... experiments." The way he said "experiments" dripped with restrained disgust. "Alchemy is a waste of time and resources when practiced by useless hands."
My throat tightened, but I stayed silent. I knew anything I said would only feed his contempt.
"We only tolerated your presence out of respect for Aaron's name," he went on, standing and slowly walking to the window, his back to me. "But now that he's gone... your stay here has become inconvenient."
Inconvenient.
As if I were a misplaced piece of furniture. Something to be removed quietly.
"You will receive the bare minimum necessary to leave the mansion without causing a scene. Speak with the servants, and avoid drawing attention." He turned to face me, his eyes full of the same disdain I had heard in the hallway whispers. "I suggest you leave as soon as possible. You do not belong here."
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to ask where he was when Aaron taught me how to make potions no other alchemist in the city could replicate. I wanted to ask if he knew that, even with my frail body, I spent nights studying formulas while others slept.
But instead, I simply held the letter with both hands. It felt like it weighed a ton.
"Understood, sir." My voice came out steadier than I expected. But my knees were shaking.
He gave a small nod and returned to his chair. It was a gesture of closure. An end.
I turned to leave, but just before I touched the doorknob, I heard his voice again:
"And Elisa..." A pause. Almost dramatic. "Try not to disgrace your brother's name out there. Even dead, he is still a Gracefall."
I swallowed hard. I didn't respond.
Because deep down, I knew: he didn't say that to protect me. He said it to protect the family name. That rotten family.
As soon as I left the room, I closed the door behind me and finally allowed my hands to tremble. Aaron's letter was now pressed against my chest, as if it could warm the hollow space inside me.
As I walked toward my room, the whispers of the maids and the coldness of the hallway felt distant. The only thing that mattered was the letter I held tightly to my chest. As if my life depended on it.