In the lounge, Lia sat uneasily on a chair in her pretty gown, several times almost rising to her feet.

She didn’t understand the current situation, nor the dean’s intentions.

In past years’ performances, she’d always joined the choir—a group of children in fine clothes facing the audience, chanting blessing poems in unison. Their overlapping voices would merge into a gentle sea, softly flooding every corner of the theater.

Lia had always been the one just pretending to sing.

With so many voices blending together, no one would notice if someone merely opened their mouth without sound. Preferring to avoid attention, Lia always hid at the very back, behind taller children. She’d hunch her back, carefully avoiding the dean’s gaze while ensuring the audience spotted no oddities. The moment the chorus ended, she’d be the first to dash backstage.

But this time, the dean hadn’t even glanced at her during choir or dance rehearsals—as if she’d erased Lia from her mind from the start, never intending to let her perform.

Just as Lia thought she’d luckily slipped through the cracks and tried to sneak away, the dean yanked her back. The old hag, fierce yet hollow inside, ordered her to stay put in this room and vanished.

All the choir acts had ended. The final dance was nearing its close. Orphans who’d finished performing left through another passage, leaving Lia alone in the room, every nerve taut with dread.

Her thoughts drifted to Yihan. Was he out there somewhere? Where could he be watching her from?

The door opened. The dean strode in, dressed like a crow, her ambiguous smile making Lia’s skin crawl.

“Dean… what exactly should I do?” Lia wanted to step forward but shrank back instead, hugging her own shoulders. The room lacked a charcoal brazier, and her gown was paper-thin. It was cold.

The dean said nothing. She advanced step by step, her towering frame pressing down on the girl like an invisible weight. Lia retreated until her back hit the wall, face paling. She wanted to run.

Two steps away, the dean halted. She sighed deeply. “Lia, dear Lia… Louise told me you can summon flames. Is that true?”

All color drained from the girl’s face. Her mind went blank, flooded with panic and chaos.

But the dean beamed, eyes gleaming as if she’d unearthed forgotten treasure. “Don’t be afraid, my child. This proves you’re extraordinary—unlike us ordinary folk. You’re truly chosen.”

“I must have mentioned it before? People like you share a name. You’re a Sorceress, aren’t you?”

Lia trembled, words tumbling out. “I don’t know… I really don’t know my situation… I’m not—”

“Hush. I want to help you. A gifted child like you shouldn’t waste away in an orphanage. See those spectators? Nobles. Foreign scholars. They’ll give you a better life—a stage to truly shine.”

The dean dropped all pretense, her greed bared. She seized Lia’s shoulders, breathing heavily. “You’re already wearing this gown… so lovely. It suits you. You look like a proper lady… Honestly, I never noticed how beautifully you’ve blossomed. You’ve grown into such a fine young woman… Tsk tsk. They’ll adore you.”

“Come. Walk onstage with me now. Show them your flames. Let them see what an exceptional Sorceress you are. Everyone will love you—your talent, your beauty, your power. All will flourish under their guidance. Or do you plan to rot in this backwater Soul Valley Town forever?”

Lia gasped in pain, struggling to break free.

Now she understood. She saw the dean’s true purpose.

Beneath those honeyed words about “unlocking her potential” and “a brighter path,” the old hag only wanted to sell her for a high price.

In the orphanage, the dean held absolute power over every child’s freedom and future.

Lia had heard whispers over the years—how the dean secretly sold pretty orphans to powerful locals for money and favors. Why else did several children vanish every Saint An’s Night without warning? The dean always smiled, claiming they’d been “hurriedly adopted.”

Such lies fooled only young children.

Lia had refused to face this truth—not just from disbelief, but because alone, she couldn’t survive outside the orphanage.

But now was different. Someone had taken her hand, promised to lead her away. They’d made vows. Lia trusted that person completely. She knew he’d never abandon her.

So this insane choice? She’d sooner die than agree.

A surge of unknown strength flooded her. She grabbed the dean’s wrists and wrenched them away.

The dean stumbled back, nearly falling, staring in disbelief at the transformed girl.

Lia’s hair hung loose. Buttons had torn from her gown during the struggle, revealing patches of milky skin. Her legs, sheathed in black stockings, trembled slightly, muscles rigid with tension. She glared at the greedy old hag, fury choking her voice.

“I won’t go…” Her tone was hoarse, emerald eyes blazing with resolve. “You won’t sell me. And I won’t obey you.”

“Besides—I’m no Sorceress. I can’t control flames.”

“If you’re not a Sorceress, what are you? Who burned Luna’s dress if not you? Did it spontaneously combust?” The dean’s mask shattered. She sneered. “Listen well: you *will* go. After raising you all these years, you owe me!”

Her sharp nails dug into Lia’s hair and arm, dragging her toward the stage.

“Calling you a Sorceress is flattery. You’re a monster. A *monster*.”

Lia couldn’t resist the height and strength difference. As pain flared through her body, her temperature rose. Her hair began to glow faintly.

“If you burned Luna’s dress, why not burn this whole theater down? Go on—*try*!”

The dance troupe had long exited. No new performers appeared. Murmurs grew louder in the audience. The dean’s smile turned cruel as she hauled Lia forward, oblivious to the changes in the girl.

Finally, she dragged Lia onto the stage. Dizzy, Lia collapsed to her knees under the blinding lights.

Gasps erupted from all directions—mostly male voices. Stripped of her old clothes and draped in the gown, Lia looked like a flower fairy. Her fragile posture and pained expression only amplified her breathtaking beauty, instantly capturing every eye in the hall.

Heat surged through her body. Fear and unease gnawed at her mind, inch by inch seizing control.

She saw the crowd.

*No—don’t lose control—they’ll all die!*

She forced herself up, lifting her head. Her first sight was Yihan in the front row. He stared at her, utterly frozen in shock.

He was so close.

Close enough that if she leaped from the stage’s edge, she could throw herself straight into his arms.