The maids escorted the girl to a grand chamber, its unparalleled beauty leaving her breathless. Sheer curtains draped over the walls, allowing sunlight to filter through and bathe the room in a warm, soothing glow. They instructed her to prepare herself. Gazing at her reflection, she realized just how much grime had dulled her features. Her once-lustrous hair had turned into a tangled mess, framing her face with unruly strands.

Bathing felt endless. Each drop of warm water and fragrant soap seemed to wash away layers of her old, weathered self. The maids, each with their designated task, moved seamlessly. One selected exquisite garments, another brought trays of delightful food, while a third gently dried her hair with a soft towel. The maid handled her as if tending to a delicate, wounded soul, moving the towel with such care that it felt soothing.

Once her hair was partially dry, the combing began. At first, it was painful—years of neglect had left her hair matted and knotted. But as the maid worked patiently through the tangles, the pain subsided, replaced by a comforting sensation as the comb glided through her light brown locks.  

"Your hair is magnificent," the maid marveled. "So soft and silky—it feels like I’m holding strands of spider silk. You should really take better care of it. I’ve never seen such beautiful hair before."  

The girl managed a faint smile and replied softly, "Tha...nk you."  

Another maid entered, carrying tools for braiding and arranging her hair. She placed them meticulously before the first maid and spoke in a sharp, authoritative tone:  

"Braid her hair quickly and place the dresses in the wardrobe. The rest of you, return to your other duties."  

From her commanding presence and attire, it was clear that this woman was the head of the palace servants. She cast a brief, critical glance at the girl before addressing her:  

"And you, young lady, His Majesty has instructed that you join him and the Crown Prince for dinner in the royal dining hall after lunch."  

The girl stammered, her voice trembling slightly: "Tha...thank you, ma’am."  

The head servant’s lips curved into a fleeting smile—so quick it seemed devoid of emotion—before she turned and left the room without delay.

Alone in front of the mirror, the girl stared at her reflection in disbelief. The clean, well-groomed face staring back at her was almost unrecognizable compared to the filthy, disheveled appearance she had grown accustomed to. The contrast between her current self and the homeless, wandering girl she once was felt stark. And yet, one thing hadn’t changed: her eyes. They still bore the same weight of doubt and memories too heavy for someone her age.  

"Haha... As a child, I always dreamed of dressing like this and having my own beautiful brown hair," she whispered to herself.

Memories of the past stirred like a storm within her mind. That old man... He had cursed her, stripping away her hair’s natural color and turning it silver, all so he could exert absolute control over her. He hadn’t cared that she was just a child. To him, she was nothing more than a painful reminder of the woman who loathed him—her mother.

But now, even if only for this fleeting moment, she could touch her dream. Here, in this palace, she could be someone she had never been allowed to become.