Zana Maralia, the unanticipated leader—quiet, strict, and graceful—her big eyes radiated desire, and her voice sent thousands of tremors through the crowd. As she walked, the world seemed to quiver; every child followed with frozen eyes. It wasn’t a hostel either, but an orphanage—a dreadful place for unknown, hypnotized, yellow-faced figures who trembled at every sound, none belonging to anyone, stripped of voice, will, or the slightest power to choose. She, while standing in the dreadful city of Zana Maralia’s ancestors—where those who didn’t believe, or restless ghosts, roamed freely—completely seemed relaxed. Lana Flosst, the completely relaxed figure among thousands of scared and frozen figures, felt her heart ache, telling her to stop instead of entering Maralia Comnico, which was rumored as a terrifying place. It was a place for the forsaken, those who belonged to no one, deemed worthless and forced into obedience. Every girl orphaned and abandoned was here—some pale and shivering, others fleeing with tears streaking their faces, their fear hanging heavy in the air like a living shadow. They were taught, some believing it was for their own good, yet it was only for the sake of cold, crumpled pieces of paper called money. Favor was never theirs—every future, every path, dictated not by their passions, talents, or dreams, but by the sole will of Zana Maralia. Skills and desires meant nothing; they existed only to fulfill her needs, trapped in a world where choice was an illusion and obedience was survival. Today was the day of the final announcement—who would be sent, and where. Some hearts leapt with hope, others crumbled in fear. Yet Lana Flosst, the newest orphan and hostelizen who had just completed her first year, stood unwavering, fearless—a calm island amid the pale, trembling faces of those who had been here before. Tears glimmered in Mari’s wide eyes, streaking down onto her journal as she faced the darkest night of her life. In Lana’s room, a year after they first met, silence hung heavy—broken only by the sudden duk, duk of footsteps that froze the air. Miss Annalona appeared, gliding in with haughty arrogance, her eyes aflame with a cruel, bloody intent. “Stand up, Mari!” she barked, and Mari jolted to her feet like a live wire. “Your soul belongs here. Your body is demanded—your perfect form, your beautiful face. You will begin your amazing life under my guidance as a model in the Maralia fashion industry. And remember—no mistakes.” She flipped her grey, curly hair back and stormed out, leaving only the echo of her cruelty behind. Mari’s eyes glistened with bloody tears. “What’s happening? Why…?” she whispered, but Lana stayed silent. After a long pause, Mari closed her eyes and murmured, broken, “I always wanted to become an athlete… but this horrid city… it isn’t for me.” In the next two days, Mari was moved, leaving the Room of Sorrow with only Lana, Dinky Robust, and Frara Nigering. The dreaded duk, duk on the door always meant danger, yet nothing could stop what was coming. Frara Nigering, the strict vice of Miss Annalona, appeared lazily. “You’re recommended to become a chef in the Maralia Bakery. Use your skills and embrace your new life. Pack your things in one hour,” she commanded, leaving with the same arrogance. “Wow! I can’t believe it! My prayers worked—I can finally follow my passion as a baker!” Frara cheered, and Dinky added, “Frara, you’re one in a thousand. Congratulations!” From day to day after the final announcement, tension grew—some cried, others prayed. In Room 456, Lana and Dinky Robust sat alone. Dinky had been selected by Miss Annalona for engineering construction at the Maralia site, and her heart ached—her dream of becoming a fashion designer shattered. But unlike the others, her confident and hopeful spirit remained unbroken. She stood up, ponytail swaying, and declared, “I am human, and I have rights! I will speak to her.” With determination burning in her eyes, she walked out of the room, ready to face whatever awaited. Lana sneaked out and followed Dinky down the corridor. The principal’s room loomed ahead, its door splintered and lock twisted, a witness to countless violent encounters. Inside, harsh shouts rang out: “You belong to the Maralia family! You have no rights—only to obey or die!” From that day, nobody saw Dinky again. Rumors spread that she was forced to work in Maralia’s engineering site—and beaten with a metal rod for resisting. In Maralia’s palace-like house, the sunset cast warm golden light across the polished floors and tall windows, lending the grand halls a strange elegance. Yet behind the beauty, danger lingered. On the first floor, in a pink walled room with neatly arranged furniture, Zana Maralia and Annalona sat. A firm voice declared, “Things are going well. The last troublesome one, Dinky Robust, has been beaten and sent to the professional site. “And what about Lana Flosst? She seems confident,Zana commented. “Yes, she isn’t like the others—a bit unique,” Annalona replied. “She is demanded; she’s our biggest proposal. Tell me about her features so I can decide where she belongs.” “Miss Zana,” Annalona began, “she has a gorgeous face with dimples, long lashes, and fair skin. Her red glossy hair adds to her charm, and her confident personality is brilliant. On top of that, she excels in academics and carries herself with grace.” “Perfect for our proposal,” Zana declared. “I would like to meet her.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLA2dWHSntG
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