Time passed.Angela lived each day the same as always.She chose commissions from the requests Mark brought her, crafted the dolls, and delivered them. It was a repeating routine.But she never once thought that the work was exhausting or tedious.After all, Angela had no family or friends to share free time with anyway.Speaking to the dolls born from her own hands—telling them stories and passing time together—was a special joy only she could have.“Hello, Daisy. We only have the finishing touches left today.”This commission was a doll of a short-haired little girl reminiscent of a daisy flower.Angela made the doll slightly smaller than usual, gave her near white-silver hair like petals, and set deep golden glass eyes.She tailored a white mini dress, added tiny yellow embellishments, and styled her to look lively and sweet.All that remained was to fasten the daisy-choker around her neck.“Daisy, I saw in the newspaper I brought home yesterday—there’s going to be Edgar’s birthday party next weekend.”Angela always gave names to her dolls based on the theme of each commission.Speaking kindly to Daisy, she continued as though chatting with a friend:“They say the guests are mostly nobles, businessmen, or famous figures. That shows how influential Lord Edgar is. Amazing, isn’t it?”Edgar de Grace’s birthday party was a well-known event in Eclaire.As a high noble and businessman with wide connections, his annual celebration at the Grace Ducal Estate always made headlines the day after.While shaping a daisy flower from scrap fabric, Angela lowered her voice like she was sharing a secret:“But did you /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ know? I’m actually a noble too.”The practically meaningless baronet title had passed to Angela when her father died.Strangely enough, the only person who had ever acknowledged that title—including Angela herself—had been Edgar de Grace.“That title has always been a burden on our family. But ironically—it’s because of that title that Lord Edgar sent me an invitation.”Edgar was known for sending invitations to everyone listed in the noble registry.Still—she had never imagined he would send one to her.The fact that her name was even recorded in the registry had been surprising enough.Ordinarily, baronets were not considered true nobles, and excluding them caused no issue.So the fact that Edgar had included her felt unbelievable—and deeply, quietly precious.“And also—you know—Lord Edgar’s birthday is my birthday too. And this year, I become an adult.”To Angela, birthdays were never special.If any day held weight for her, it was the day her parents died.A birthday no one celebrated could never be special.If anything, it only made the loneliness sharper.“But knowing Lord Edgar and I share a birthday—it feels strange. I know it’s just coincidence, but… it feels like there’s a connection.”After learning of that shared birthday, Angela had started to view her own birthday differently.She would sometimes imagine what dress might suit her if she could attend his party.She would imagine simply being there, somewhere in the same space, quietly celebrating him from afar.And that was enough to bring her joy.In fact, she even felt thankful—because Edgar had given her a reason to look forward to her birthday instead of dreading it.“If only once… I could answer that invitation and go.”Angela paused her stitching and glanced toward the invitation set carefully upright on the side table.The golden emblem—a swan entwined with a crescent—shone like Edgar’s hair.On the high-quality stationery, her name Angela Faber was written clearly.“Just once…”The sight of it stirred a desire she would normally never allow herself to think.For the first time, she crossed a line she had never dared to approach.***It had been purely impulsive.On her way back after delivering Daisy to Mark, Angela found herself stepping into a dress boutique she would never, under any normal circumstance, have approached.“Welcome—!”The shop assistant, busy helping customers preparing for Edgar’s birthday party, began her greeting—and then froze.A woman draped entirely in a black cloak.There was hardly anyone in Portigios who did not know who Angela was.Her appearance and the rumors surrounding her had made her infamous, whether she wanted it or not.“Oh my.”“Heavens, of all places—here?”“Someone, hurry and remove her.”From all corners, the noble ladies and society women gasped and whispered.The Signor Boutique, famous for selling the most luxurious and expensive dresses in Portigios, made Angela’s black cloak look unbearably out of place.As Angela hesitated just inside the doorway, the murmurs grew louder.“Excuse me, miss. May I ask what brings you here?”The assistant forced a polite smile as she approached.She wanted to throw Angela out immediately, but Edgar de Grace, the owner of the boutique, had strictly ordered that the staff show no discrimination toward customers.So she would remove this unwelcome guest in the most polite and indirect way possible.“A dress…”Her voice was small—barely audible unless one stood close.The assistant looked momentarily surprised.Perhaps she had heard the rumor that Angela was mute.“I’m very sorry, miss, but there are no dresses available for reservation right now.”Angela’s gaze drifted to the racks.There were clearly still five or six dresses hanging there—not the ones chosen by the noble girls browsing.And reserved dresses were never left out on display.So the assistant was lying.“Those will all be reserved shortly as well.”Noticing Angela’s glance, the assistant added this with a soft, mocking smile.The meaning was obvious: None of these are for you.From all sides, laughter broke out in response.Angela stood frozen in embarrassment and confusion.She needed a dress to attend the party.She had considered making one herself—but making clothes for dolls was one thing; making a dress a human could wear was entirely different.And if she was going to buy one—she had wanted to buy it here.“Hey.”Perhaps annoyed by her hesitation, one of the maids stepped forward, arms crossed, lifting her chin as though she herself were nobility.“You’re getting in the way. Can’t you leave already?”“…What?”“A witch like you—shopping for a dress? Don’t be disgusting.”The words were spoken as if muttered to herself—yet loud enough that everyone heard.Proof of that came in the chorus of laughter that followed.“Ah…”And only then did Angela’s vision clear—stripped of impulse and fragile hope.

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