Towards the Winter Cabin of Serenity and Madness, Cinderella Runs - Chapter 1
She resented the breaking dawn.
Even if it meant being lonely or alone, Roel wished the night would linger a bit longer. To hide her wounded body in the cradle of darkness until it healed. Leaning on the moonlight, she prayed.
However, as if to mock her prayers, the twilight lifted the curtain of night. It was time to get up.
She sighed deeply, seeing the faint light seeping through the window cracks. After folding the old blanket riddled with holes, and tidying up her bed, she tied her hair up to not hinder her work. She washed her face with water she had drawn from the well recently.
Winter was creeping in, evidenced by the thin layer of ice on the water. The attic was so cold that ice formed in the water kept inside. The gaps in the windows had widened, letting in gusts of wind as if the door were left open. Dipping her hands into the freezing water that made her knuckles tingle, jolted her from her drowsiness.
She had to light the fireplace before her aunt woke up. She knew well that any delay would invite sharp, cutting remarks. There was no time to groan in pain from the aches poking every part of her body.
Moving quietly from the attic to not make a sound, she fetched some firewood from the backyard. After reviving the dying embers from the night, she moved to the kitchen. She heated the soup and cut the leftover bread.
After finishing the morning chores, she was completely drained of energy.
Roel crouched in a corner of the kitchen, sneaking in a quick nap. As soon as she closed her eyes, her head drooped down.
She was no better than a sick chicken. Her short nap was interrupted by the thumping footsteps that startled her. It was her aunt entering the kitchen.
Even the sound of her steps made Roel’s skin crawl. She quickly stood up, pretending to be busy wiping dishes with a dry cloth.
Aunt Roniti crossed her arms and looked down at Roel with dissatisfaction upon entering the kitchen.
“Still preparing?”
“I was waiting for the soup to cool down. I was about to serve it as soon as you woke up.”
Dull wheat-colored hair. Grey eyes as murky as ash. Thin arms and legs. Even her somewhat decent looks were overshadowed by her dreary expression.
The Aunt examined Roel’s every move with irritation, thinking of her as a nerve-wracking child.
“It’s your lack of dexterity that makes you slow. What’s the point of me teaching you household chores? Can’t even prepare breakfast properly. You’re set for a rough marriage, a rough one, I tell you.”
Aunt Roniti counted every ingredient in the kitchen while complaining. She suspected that Roel might have stolen and eaten a potato or something.
The girl her husband had brought home one day.
Roel was the daughter of her brother-in-law, whom she had never seen at her own wedding. Her sister-in-law passed away giving birth, and her brother-in-law, a mercenary, met his end in an accident.
The addition of a child to an already struggling household infuriated her, especially since her husband was even considering setting aside a dowry for Roel.
Despite their own daughter’s dowry being insufficient, they were thinking about taking care of this unexpected burden. Roniti couldn’t stand the sight of Roel.
Observing her aunt’s mood, Roel silently continued preparing the meal. Once the meal was almost ready, Roniti tapped Roel’s head.
“What a sight you are! You look like a chimney sweep. Surely you don’t plan to sit at the table like this?”
“Ah, no.”
Roel left the kitchen to wash her face, and Roniti collected the prepared breakfast after making sure Roel was out of sight.
Having washed her face with cold water twice, Roel’s nose turned red like a drunkard’s, her fingertips and earlobes flushed as if dyed. When she returned, there was not a single piece of bread left on the table.
As Ger was about to speak to Roel, Roniti preempted him.
“Why are you so late? We thought you overslept, and Howson ate two already. Come and have some soup at least.”
Howson, her cousin, smirked with his mouth full of bread.
“Maggot.”
Roel, unable to retort to Howson who was chewing the bread, sat at the very end of the table. She filled her hungry stomach with a ladle of thin soup. Even a bowl of soup feels like a luxury these days.
Roniti, frowning as if even the soup was too good for Roel, glanced at Ger.
Since losing a significant amount of money gambling, Ger had become even more wary of Roniti’s moods, flinching at her gaze.
“So, is there someone to take her off our hands?”
Roniti regularly asked during meals whether there was a man willing to take Roel.
Roel, only twenty and not in a rush to marry, was more of a concern compared to Roniti’s own daughter, Celua, who was three years older and more urgently in need of a marriage. Yet, Roniti always nagged about Roel.
Celua shook her head mockingly as Ger groaned.
“Who would want to take someone like her?”
“I said she should just be sent to Hetter.”
Hearing the mother and daughter’s taunts, Ger clicked his tongue.
“Come on. Not Hetter, at least.”
“Then who, exactly, is going to take her?”
Roniti was insistent on getting Roel out of her sight, sending her to the old bachelor Hetter. Howson chuckled, and Celua burst into laughter.
Hetter, an inn employee, was seventeen years older than Roel and had a bad reputation. Ger, although clearly uncomfortable to agree, looked troubled under Roniti’s oppressive attitude.
