The sun reflected off the bathroom mirror. The bathwater was still steaming, and breakfast lay untouched on the tray.Alberto Ranieri dressed with his usual precision: jacket, tie, silver cufflinks. He barely touched his cup of coffee before opening the newspaper.The front pages spoke only of that cursed city festival. He sighed, turned the page, and checked his watch. Everything about him moved with mechanical rhythm and predictable order — like a Swiss clock that had been keeping the same time for years. And in that monotony, he found comfort. He already knew that, come evening, he would smoke a cigar, sit in his armchair with a book open, and enjoy the silence of not being disturbed.

Alberto Ranieri was a closed, exact, impenetrable man. He despised surprises and considered emotions a distraction. He was also one of the most influential lawyers in Cremgaradél — a Ranieri, and that surname, for generations, had been worth more than a signature.His wife, Anna, hadn’t shared a bed with him in years. Divorce, though legal, was still frowned upon in the city — too modern, too revolutionary. And so, the Ranieris chose the most elegant form of marital unhappiness: a parallel, cold, and perfectly ordered life.

Anna Ranieri, born Orlandi, was a mediocre lawyer but had a natural gift for social climbing. She loved two things: money and appearances. She measured her life against others’, never stopping to compare, to desire, to envy.When she heard the maids moving in the next room, she knew Alberto had already left. She called her personal maid, had her help with the dress, and gave the housekeeper the day’s instructions. Then she left, hastily made-up yet flawless, wearing the expression of someone always in a hurry to be seen.

The Ranieris held the title of counts and a prominent place in the city’s hierarchy. Their prestige rested on a long family tradition of lawyers and politicians, and for Alberto, the honor of his bloodline was sacred.Though he and Anna formed a cold, incompatible couple, their marriage had produced two children: Fabrizio and Katherine.

Fabrizio was the eldest, the natural heir to everything his father represented — and for that very reason, his opposite.At twenty-seven, he still hadn’t completed his law studies, imposed upon him by Alberto against his will. That morning, he woke late, as always, gathering scattered clothes and papers from the floor. The sky was lightening, the street lamps dimming, and he felt hollow — suspended in a time that didn’t belong to him.He thought back to every choice that had led him there and realized he had never truly considered failure.Then, a voice — a memory — crossed his mind:“I believe in you.”The thought warmed him. He liked to think of himself as confident, but he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to carry that secret without her.He pushed away his hesitation. When his name was called, he drew a deep breath. He would make it — he owed it to himself, and to her.

Katherine — Kate to most, Katie to only a few — had been born four years later, on a rainy day.Beautiful without knowing it, gentle and composed, she was the daughter everyone wished for.She had followed her father’s path, studying law — not to please him, but for reasons of her own. Her hair, brown and luminous like Fabrizio’s, framed a delicate face and dark eyes, deep and unreadably melancholy.

That morning she rose late. Her bare feet met the cold floor as she glanced at her reflection.«I’ve risen from the sarcophagus,» she thought, noticing her tousled hair. She sighed and called for the maid.

Nadine appeared soundlessly, like a shadow.Kate greeted her with a sleepy smile. «Coffee, and something to wear, please... I’m always late,» she muttered, rubbing her eyes.The cold shower revived her, restoring her energy and focus. When she returned, Nadine had laid out a lilac dress.

«Does purple bring luck for exams?» Kate asked, sitting down to have her hair styled.

«I wouldn’t know, miss,» Nadine replied in her usual neutral tone. Then, fixing the chignon in the mirror, she added: «The goddess wears lilac flowers this season. It might be a good omen.»

Kate smiled faintly. She didn’t believe in such superstitions, but she didn’t contradict her either.«You may go, Nadine. Thank you.»

«My duty, miss.»

It had been her mother who insisted she have a personal maid. Kate found the whole ceremonial exhausting: servants, titles, rehearsed gestures — a theater where everyone played the part society had written for them.That was precisely why she had chosen law — to learn the rules, and one day, to break them.She dreamed of joining the Inner Council and dismantling the system from within. A reckless dream, but fueled by a lucid anger hidden behind the perfect smile of the model daughter.

She descended the stairs and found the butler waiting.«Good morning, Milady,» said Richard Bremson, bowing slightly. «The car is ready.»

Kate looked at him, surprised. «My father had it prepared for me?»«He said he knows how you’re always in a hurry, and that a little help couldn’t hurt.»

She smiled. «Then thank him for me, Bremson. See you later.»

As she crossed the courtyard, Kate thought of her father. He wasn’t affectionate, but in small, almost imperceptible gestures, he could show a kind of care all his own.As a child, she remembered him as distant, awkward with feelings. But when she began to show talent in law, something changed: Alberto had looked at her with pride — the same pride he had always denied his son.Kate didn’t share his ideals, but she respected him, though she knew that, sooner or later, she would disappoint him too.

The car passed through the palace gates and merged into the elegant traffic of the city center. Sumptuous villas, noble crests, perfect gardens — the showcase of Cremgaradél’s power.A little further ahead, the emerald shimmer of the Temple dominated the square. There stood the Seminary, home to the most prestigious studies: those of the Healers.Once, medicine had been the most respected science, but under Armida’s rule, everything had changed.Faith had replaced reason; healing with one’s hands had become an act of devotion, not of knowledge. The hospitals had closed, and doctors had become ghosts of themselves.

The car continued eastward, passing through an orange grove scented with childhood. Beyond the trees stood the Grand University, where the “noble” disciplines were taught: law, letters, architecture, and economics.Students from the faith-approved faculties were destined for power; the others, pushed to the margins, took refuge in the ancient University of Ashes, where science, music, and medicine still survived.

When the car stopped, the driver opened the door for her. The golden building rose imposingly, its granite steps leading to a vast statue of Erebo entwined at the goddess’s feet.Kate climbed the steps quickly, her heart pounding with the anxiety of the coming exam — and with it, the silent weight of a family’s expectations.

The walls of the law faculty were draped in red tapestries and crimson curtains. Every student wore a ruby pin over their heart — a symbol of belonging.As she walked down the corridor, Kate greeted a few classmates and caught sight, among the portraits lining the walls, of the Ranieris who had come before her: her grandfather, her father, and a long line of stern, proud ancestors.A mix of pride and discomfort stirred within her. Then she knocked on the door of the classroom.

A simple exam,she told herself.But in her chest beat a feeling that was anything but simple.