2 1st Recursion: Ilya von Bismarck

As the saying goes, the brighter the facade, the darker what's within.

However, it was an aphorism unbefitting to describe everything that the sun rays had hopes of reaching.

A family created out of pure love; a free being who had nothing to lose; the innocence of children; those were the simplest embodiments of untainted radiance. No matter how one would look at them, they could serve as inspirations to better one's self.

Although, it would only work if the observer was focused on the brighter side of things.

To put it simply, it was to have an uncorrupted view.

A family created out of pure love could have been birthed from someone's infidelity.

A free being who had nothing to lose could be the harbinger of danger for the righteous.

The innocence of children was a temptation for individuals who vehemently desired to exploit it.

When all was said and done, the people who chose to ignore the reality were more dangerous than those who were able to embrace their sinfulness.

A poor excuse of a human being. Wise nonetheless.

It was not difficult to discern the bad, worse, and worst side of things. The imagination of humans could go past the horizon, far from what the eyes could see. Truth be told, welcoming a darker side of yourself would be easier than trying to be optimistic.

You wouldn't be afraid to face disappointments.

You wouldn't have to compensate for the things you weren't prepared to lose.

In the long run, an unwavering will would be in order to become one's weapon.

Was there ever a person who had this kind of mentality? Without a sliver of doubt, there would be a handful of them within a flourishing community. One couldn't help but wonder how those people lived their dreary lives.

Well, there was this young lady named Ilya von Bismarck. She was neither pessimistic nor optimistic. Ilya simply didn't put a name on her emotions and her experiences. The young lady believed that everything that she happened upon was what she deserved.

"Hmm…"

A pained groan resounded within the muzzy darkness of a small chamber. In the mornings when the Sun was at its brightest, not a single one of its rays would be able to reach the room. There were simply no windows inside and the door itself was always tightly shut.

Strangely enough, there wouldn't be any difference if the door was opened. The room was located in the basement of the building where the servants of the Gertrude Dukedom resided. The basement was a space for storing the cleaning and construction supplies. It wasn't an appropriate place to use as a living quarter.

But then again, Ilya had no choice.

If she wanted to live, she ought to embrace her circumstances.

No matter how suffocating the air inside the room had gotten, she would never raise any complaints about it.

No matter how cold her room could get during the winter, she would bear it and spend her time under her decade-old thin blankets. The walls didn't act as barriers at all. It's as if they freely let the cold breeze seep through their cracks -- another layer of insult to the decrepitness of the room.

No matter how dirty the room had become, no servants would take their time to clean it in her stead. It's peculiar since she was the first-born child of Duke Brahm Gertrude.

Noble ladies were bestowed freedom by their fathers and husbands. In a way, the social gatherings of the ladies were implicitly considered as a separate battlefield of politics. Ilya was the eldest daughter of one of the most renowned Ducal Family within the Etheros Empire. Granted that she was only fifteen years of age, she should have been a celebrity in high society.

So, why was she living in such conditions?

It's because no one outside of the Gertrude Estate knew of her existence.

It's not that she opted to endure the hardships. She just could not complain. Who would listen to a forgotten young lady in the first place? Above that, it had been more than a decade since Ilya was subjected to unwarranted torment. She didn't have the heart to go against the Ducal couple and her siblings.

For Ilya, isolation was better than receiving their gazes brimming with disgust. Every time she met their eyes, she could feel that they saw her as a filthy beggar. Their noses would scrunch up as she approached them, making Ilya assume that she had offended their nostrils.

If only she was aware that it was their personalities that they were smelling rather than her distinct scent, would she feel better?

After a few minutes of listlessly turning on her mat of a bed, Ilya opened her eyes. She followed it with a brief sigh but didn't make a single move thereafter. The young lady just laid down on her rock-solid bed without a thought.

More minutes passed by, Ilya finally decided to get up. Even though she was already accustomed to her sleeping arrangements, the dull pain on her back persisted throughout the years.

Once she was on her feet, Ilya made her way towards the wooden barrel placed in one of the corners of her small room. On top of that barrel was a metal pitcher and a small glass. Unfortunately for Ilya, the pitcher was empty.

Drinking a glass of water never failed to put her at ease. She heeded that comfort religiously as if it was her only lifeline.

'What time is it?' Ilya asked herself before walking to the door.

She then opened the door, just enough to let her observe the outside. There was a small window right at the end of the corridor and it could be seen from her room.

'The moon is still there. I guess it's around two or three in the morning. Has the banquet ended?'

Yesterday was supposed to be Ilya's birthday. However, the banquet held the day before was for the sake of celebrating the name day of the Duchess' favourite pet -- a brown Tibetan Mastiff. It was said that the Duchess cherished her pet dog so much that it was nearly registered in the family tree.

Meanwhile, Ilya didn't care enough to call the Duchess out.

No, more accurately, she had forgotten the day when her mother had given birth to her.

In any case, Ilya had no plans on involving herself with the Duchess and the rest of her family. There wasn't a room for her in that circle. She didn't want them to be uncomfortable in their own house. Thus, she distanced herself. It was only in her absence that they could laugh without reservations.

'Hopefully, they're asleep. I'll just go to the kitchen to get some water. If I happen to meet anyone, I'll give up.'

Although they didn't accept her very existence, for Ilya, family was family. She would do anything as long as it would benefit them. Sadly, it was in exchange for her basic rights as a noble and even as a proper human being.