What is the worst sin in high society? Of course, sincerity.
Let me tell you a story. A story that touches on this theme. A story that was supposed to be a dream-like, long, and boring tale. A story about a noble girl everyone loves, who marries the prince, becomes the mother of the kingdom, and fulfills her role as a daughter by helping her family consolidate their power and extend their roots even further.
But it wasn't.
Once upon a time... there was a girl named Lilith. A 12-year-old creature, a girl considered nearly an adult in a bygone society where one was expected to grow up and mature quickly. A society that imposed on girls like her the image of being pure, upright, and majestic.
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Ah, the Royal Palace. Imposing, golden, and so excessive in its opulence that even the ants living in its gardens probably had their own noble lineage. For Lilith, the place was the perfect stage to once again show the world what it meant to be the Pearl of the Duchy.
She was not just a young noblewoman—no.
She was nobility incarnate, as if the gods, in a fit of boredom and power, had decided to create an etiquette manual in human form and let it fall to Earth. And they had provided her the perfect stage to flaunt it.
Lilith had arrived early at the palace because, of course, punctuality was an unquestionable virtue of a perfect lady. Not only had she arrived early, but she had descended from her carriage with a grace that defied the laws of physics. Her dress, sky blue with silver embroidery, seemed to float around her. It was as if even the wind was too impressed to touch her without permission.
The sweltering heat had no effect on her skin or bodily functions. She did not sweat. Of course not, how could she, with 10 maids following her every step, fanning her from all angles, dispersing the rich, exquisite—but let's not forget, strong—aroma of her perfume wherever she went.
As she entered the tea room, the murmurs ceased. Lilith's presence always had that effect. The noblewomen present straightened in their seats, adjusted their hairstyles, and rehearsed their best smiles. How could they not? Lilith was the standard. The dream of every aristocratic mother, the envy of every noble daughter, and probably the terror of any commoner who dared to mispronounce her title.
The room was decorated with such elegance it was almost insulting. Velvet curtains, white marble tables, and a tea set that seemed to have been forged by the very god of refinement. Lilith took her seat in the place that corresponded to her—just to the right of the queen. Because, of course, a lady like Lilith could not sit just anywhere.
"My dear Lilith, I'm so glad you could come," said the queen, smiling with that diplomatic expression that said, "I'm pleased, but only because I must be."
Lilith inclined her head slightly, her silver-violet hair shimmering in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
"It is an honor, Your Majesty," she replied in a voice so melodious that even the birds in the gardens might have felt insecure about their own songs. Her cheeks were flushed, adding the final touch of sweetness.
The conversation at the table was, as always, an ode to banality.
"Don't you think the lilies this year have lost a bit of their natural whiteness? It's troubling, to say the least," commented a viscountess in a tone that suggested lilies were the kingdom's most pressing issue.
"Oh, absolutely. The sunlight seems harsher. Perhaps we should consider roofs for the gardens," added another noblewoman, nodding gravely.
Lilith, without losing her composure, offered her opinion as if handing out a piece of gold in a market full of copper:
"It is true that the lilies may have lost some of their purity, but I believe it reflects the will of the gods. Sometimes, even nature reminds us that not even she is perfect. To pursue such an ideal is mere greed."
The queen, impressed, smiled.
"Lilith, always so wise for your age."
Her eyes, at first glance, seemed approving. Pleased, she presented Lilith with some sweets in a box brought from another room by a servant. Undoubtedly, these were precious treats from the queen herself.
The other noblewomen murmured their approval, though some were clearly jealous. How could they not be? Lilith had just turned a trivial conversation about flowers into a philosophical statement on the futile pursuit of perfection.
In the corner, a servant scribbled down her words.
And so, the party continued. Lilith sipped her tea with a delicacy that would make any other lady weep with envy. She gave her all to avoid the natural slurp sound when drinking. Every gesture, every word, was so carefully executed that one might think she had a manual hidden beneath her dress. And she might—perhaps even a collection, considering all the space under her gown.
The next day, Lilith departed from the palace, heading back to the duchy. The carriage rolled smoothly along the cobblestone roads as Lilith watched the scenery pass by. Despite her success at the party, she was not entirely satisfied. Her rigorous education and imposed ambitions would not allow it. There was always something more to perfect, something to rehearse.
Despite what she had said the day before to win points with the noblewomen, what Lilith had always pursued was perfection.
As the carriage swayed gently, Lilith mentally reviewed the endless list of things she needed to master: the precise angle of the head when greeting, the correct way to refuse a compliment without seeming rude, the subtle but important difference between an "oh" and an "ah" in conversation.
The journey was peaceful. It always is—until something happens. Why did something have to happen? Of course, because fate loves to shatter purity. It enjoys playing with people.
What occurred was entirely unexpected—a small accident. Something as insignificant and vulgar as a collision of carriages. Another carriage tried to overtake them but ended up hitting hers. Just that—a twisted turn, a slight unevenness in the road, and plop! Lilith's luxurious carriage toppled with the elegance of a princess who had just wandered into the wrong script. Like a broken flower, her body collapsed inside the carriage, her head struck, and the noble girl's perfect world crumbled into a cloud of dust and glass.
Darkness embraced her. She awoke a day later.
When she opened her eyes, the light was blinding. She blinked several times, trying to focus. A large room, fit for a princess. Windows as tall as miniature watchtowers. A bed so massive one would find it impossible to fall out of it at night, even intentionally. A cool breeze brushed against her face. Around her, several familiar figures watched with concern. She recognized her parents, her siblings, her close maids, even the butler. But there was something... something she couldn't remember.
"Where… am I?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
Her mother leaned toward her, her face pale.
—Lilith, dear, thank heavens you're all right.
—Yes, I—huh?... Am I? Do I look all right? No, I don't know.
Lilith frowned. Something was wrong. She recognized the people around her, but she couldn't remember... anything else. She only knew she'd had an accident. Worse yet, and this was the most alarming part, she couldn't remember who she was. It felt like a notebook with its pages ripped out.
—I... I don't remember. —The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her mother grew even paler.
—What do you mean, Lilith? —her father asked, his voice hard, almost cold.
Lilith swallowed. What's wrong? She didn't want to answer, but for some reason, she did. She felt compelled to. Why did they seem more concerned about what she said than about how she felt?
—I don't remember anything... about myself. I know who you are, but... I don't know who I am. I can't recall anything about me. My life. Nothing.
A heavy silence fell over the group. Her mother straightened up, smoothing her dress as if tidying her appearance could help organize her thoughts.
—This is... inconvenient —she muttered, more to herself than to Lilith. Then, in a firmer tone, she added—: But it's not an irreparable situation. As long as you're alive, something can be done. You'll have to start over. There's no time to waste.
She is undoubtedly a determined woman.
Lilith blinked, confused.
—Start what?
—Your training, of course —her father said, crossing his arms—. No one can know you've lost... your memory. It would be a disaster. You'll need to redo all your etiquette lessons, your studies, your essays... everything you've learned over the past nine years. Even if you've lost your memory, you're still a genius. It shouldn't be impossible for you to regain your status as the perfect lady. You can still be queen.
Lilith watched her parents as they spoke, their concern clearly focused on something other than her well-being. Her ears buzzed. She couldn't fully process their words. Although she couldn't remember much, something deep inside told her this wasn't right.
There were no warm embraces, no genuine tears—only strategies to conceal their daughter's weakness.
—Shouldn't I rest first? —she asked, feeling her body still aching from the accident.
Her mother barely spared her a glance.
—Of course, dear. Today is enough. Tomorrow, we'll begin again. We can't afford any delays.
At the back of her mind, a fleeting thought crossed her like a shadow. Something was wrong. What worried them wasn't her. It was... something else. But before she could grasp that thought, her mother began speaking again, outlining a schedule of lessons so intense that any reasonable person would've sought a second, third, and fourth medical opinion. Clearly, the woman wasn't in her right mind.
Hearing this, Lilith's head short-circuited again. She fainted once more. For a week.
What no one knew was that the chance to save the pure and prestigious young girl had slipped away the moment she fainted again. Now, overwhelmed by the barrage of information, a new Lilith was born. And no, this isn't a story about reincarnation, transmigration, or time travel. That's far too cliché, even for a story as cliché as this.
This is a story about... a girl, a young woman, a person! A sincere individual who was born not to be noble. She thinks, she doubts, she dreams of things beyond simply fulfilling her role.