That night, the sky above the D'Amore estate was starless. It was pitch black, as if the universe itself was averting its gaze from the tragedy unfolding within the grand birthing chamber.
"One more, Your Grace! The first baby is born!"
The maid's voice trembled, but not with joy. She stared at the infant in her arms with sheer horror. The baby was beautiful, tiny... yet hollow. There was no scent of roses, no fragrance of the forest—nothing. That baby—Agatha—was born without an Essentia. In a world that worships the scent of the soul, she was a Taboo.
However, the Duchess's womb tightened once more. There was another life clawing its way out.
Waaa... Waaa!
The cry of the second baby shattered the silence, louder and more feral. Instantly, the room was flooded with the scent of Black Rose, so thick and sweet it made the servants dizzy. It was the sign of a formidable Essentia. The younger sister, Bianca, had been born with the fragrance that should have belonged to her elder sister.
Sret!
The sound of a sword being unsheathed rang sharply through the air. Duke Cassian D'Amore stood before the locked door, his face as cold as ice.
"Forgive me," the Duke whispered. His voice was low, drowned out by the infants' cries. "But this secret must never leave this room. My firstborn cannot be a Taboo. The world must only know that my eldest is the owner of this Black Rose scent."
That night, the intoxicating aroma of Black Rose mingled with the metallic stench of blood from the servants who were silenced forever. In the shadows of the corner, twenty-one-year-old Cyrus Valen stood frozen. His nose recorded everything: the sturdy scent of Oak from the Duke's cloak, the smell of cold steel, and the overwhelming sweetness of the second baby's roses.
Beneath that intoxicating Black Rose fragrance, only Cyrus knew the truth: the Duke hadn't just murdered the servants. He had murdered destiny itself. And that grudge... it smelled like blood that had long since dried.
Agatha opened her eyes within her silk swaddle. She did not know that from this very second, her existence had been erased. She was the rightful firstborn, the true heir—yet to the world, there was only one D'Amore daughter: Bianca.
Agatha was destined to be the hidden thorn, while her sister became the worshipped petal.