Seraphina's POV
The chandeliers in our mansion seem to never flicker. My father would never allow if. Each crystal was polished daily, every bulb replaced before it's power was used up. They shine day and night, the lights never turned off. Even when the sun streams though the floor-to-ceiling windows, as though the house itself must declare to the world: darkness is forbidden here.
But I know better.
Light does nothing for the shadows inside a person. It only makes them sharper.
The marble floors stretched endlessly beneath my feet as I walked the east wing corridor, the sound of my footsteps echoing fainting back at me. I clutch the worn book to my chest - the only thing in this mansion that feels like its mine. The staff move around me, heads bowed, steps quick. They don't meet my eyes, not because they mean to insult me, they've just learned it's safer not to acknowledge me at all.
I used to smile at them when I was younger. Tried to talk. But once father noticed, his disapproval was enough to teach me silence.
"Ms. Seraphina," one whispers as she passes, bowing her head. Her voice was carful, practiced. Amy. She was the only maid that made a point to at least greet me. Even secretly, to not be noticed. Still, it was the thought that counted.
I nod slightly, though she doesn't see it. She's already gone, swallowed by her endless duties. That's how it always is here - everyone rushing to serve a man who doesn't know the meaning of the word "love". Well - he does have one thing he loves, his precious son. My twin brother.
Our family portraits line the corridor ahead. Generations of Kang men stare down at me from their frames, their eyes sharp, postures proud. Father had them restored last year, every detail retouched so they'd look timeless, untouchable. The newest portrait hangs larger than the rest; my father, Dae-Hyun, billionaire CEO of Kang Global Holdings, standing behind his son and my twin brother, Soren.
Soren is seated in the portrait, dressed in a custom suit, hair perfectly combed. He looks older than eighteen. Handsome. Confident. A boy already sculpted into a man who will inherit an empire. Father's hand rest on his shoulder, as if showering him in approval.
I am not there.
I never am.
In all the Kangs history, the women of the house were invisible. Daughters were rare in the family. So rare, they were considered taboo.
I stop in front of the portrait, my reflection faint in the protective glass. Soren's smile gleams, warm and assured. My lip's part, words slipping out in a whisper.
"You're everything he wants. And I'm.... not."
The ache in my chest is familiar, a dull throb I've carried for as long as I can remember. I don't hate Soren. He's my twin, my other half in the eyes of the world, but in Father's eyes we couldn't be more different. Soren is the crown jewel. I'm the flaw in the mine.
Laughter drifts from the dining room at the far end of the hall. It's loud and confident; the kind of sound that fills every corner of a house. My father's voice rises above the rest, smooth and commanding, the kind of voice that brokers billion-dollar deals. I knew I should turn away, go upstairs and close my door and disappear. That's what I usually do.
But tonight, something anchors my feet to the ground. A reckless threat of hope pulls me forward. Maybe - just maybe - if I listen closely, I'll hear my name spoken without contempt.
I continue silently down the corridor, heart racing. I press myself against the carved wooden door. It's cracked open slightly, just enough for me to see.
The dining room glows under the chandelier light. A long table stretches across the space, gleaming with polished silver and crystal wine glasses. Plates of delicately prepared food are arranged like art. Executives, politicians and investors sit along the sides, laughing, eating and drinking. At the head of it all was my father, dressed in his usual tailored charcoal suit, his black hair swept neatly back, eyes sharp as glass. Power clings to him like a second skin.
To his right sits Soren, posture perfect, his boyish smile dazzling as he speaks to an older man. His laughter rings clear, practiced but genuine enough to charm. Even at eighteen, he already knows how to play the game father is grooming him for.
I stand in the shadows, waiting and hoping. Wishing I had even been invited to sit at the table.
"...Soren will carry this family far," Father says, pride overflowing in his voice. "He is strong, intelligent. Everything an heir of the Kangs should be."
A hum of agreement follows; glasses lifted in a toast. My chest tightens. I've heard this before. Always the same thing.
But then, father chuckles. One of the men at the table start to speak. I lean in a little more to hear what they are saying.
"You have a daughter as well, don't you? What are you going to do with her?" At the man's words the whole room freezes, including me.
"It's a pity his sister had to be born. Our family has produced men for generations. I would much prefer her to have been born a boy, at least then she could have been of some use to me." My father's responds.
His words crash over me, harder than any insult whispered behind my back, heavier than every time I've been ignored. I knew, of course. Deep down, I always knew. But to hear it spoken aloud, here, in a room full of people who laugh politely at his cruelty, is like being cut open.
The executives chuckle obligingly, sipping their wine. Not one voice speaks against him. Not even Soren. My brother lowers his gaze, lips pressed thin. He doesn't laugh but doesn't speak either.
"You could use her for alliances to other families. Marry her off. She'll be out of your house that way." an executive recommended.
My throat tightens. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I swallow them down. I've learned to cry silently, unseen.
Not wanting to hear anymore, I step back, careful not to let the door creak. My legs carry me away, faster and faster, until the laughter fades behind me. The hall blurs. My heart pounds so loudly it drowns out everything else.
By the time I reach my room, silent tears are sliding down my face. I slam the door shut and twist the lock. The click echoes like a final verdict.
The chandeliers outside my room spill light through the cracks around the door, but it feels distant, unreachable. I slide down against the wood, knees to my chest, burying my face. The silence wraps around me like chains.
In this house of endless light, the emptiness in my heart never felt darker.
And for the first time, I wonder what it would feel like to leave this place behind forever.