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Tonight is the royal celebration.
You will decide the fate of this night. But first—
<span class="important-question">Who do you want to be?</span>
[[Play as a girl|Cinderella_Start]]
[[Play as a noble heir|Prince_Notice]]
[[In Development|Start]]This storyline is currently under development.
[[Return|Start]]<img src="assets/start.png" alt="Happy Ending" style="display: block; max-width: 100%;
margin: 0 auto 20px auto; border-radius: 8px; box-shadow: 0 4px 8px rgba(0,0,0,0.3);">
You wake up in a cold, smoky room, your clothes covered in ash.
Your name is <<char Rapel>>. But no one calls you that anymore.
Years ago, your mother died. Your father remarried a noblewoman with two daughters. Since then, your life has become one of silence and soot.
They call you "<<char Cinderella>>" —a girl who sleeps by the cinders.
You clean, cook, and serve. You eat scraps. They pretend you don't exist.
You once had a friend named <<char Zela>>, who was your father’s adopted son. But he vanished years ago, swallowed by the world beyond.
Tonight, your stepfamily is preparing for a grand palace celebration. All eligible young women are invited.
It's announced that the host, a noble heir, will choose someone to dance with.
You were not invited. But something in you stirs.
<span class="important-question">Will you let the night pass like all the rest?</span>
[[Try to find a way to go|Act 0.1.1]]“Are you slacking off!” your <<char stepmother>> snaps. “Do you still want to eat today?”
“Mother,” <<char Alyssa>> smirks, “how could Father have such an ugly daughter?”
“Because his first wife was a peasant-bred wench. Thankfully, fate removed her—so he could marry up.” says your <<char stepmother>>.
Your father enters. “Are your dressed ready? The celebration begins tonight.”
“Of course,” <<char Alyssa>> says. “My gown is stunning.”
<<char Mary>> sneers, “Mine will make the heir forget all others.”
He turns to you, gently. “And you, my daughter?”
Before you can reply, your <<char stepmother>> cuts in. “She’s not going. That filth would disgrace the palace.”
<span class="important-question">What will you do?</span>
[[“Of course I must go—it’s a celebration for all women.”|Act 0.1.2]]
[[Stay silent|Act 0.1.3]]Your <<char stepmother>> just ignores your words. She wraps her arms around her daughters. “Tonight, charm him well. You’ll be queens before dawn.”
They giggle. Then, shooting you a scornful look, she says to your father, “Don’t tell me you want that mongrel at the palace?”
He stays silent.
But later—when the house quiets—you find a folded bundle on your bed.
A dress. Modest, but clean. One of your mother’s, carefully mended.
You press it to your chest, stunned.
Then the door bursts open.
Your <<char stepmother>> stares at the dress. “So he does pity you.”
She snatches it, marches to the hearth—
—and tosses it into the flames.
“Now,” she says, voice like cold iron, “you’ll stop dreaming.”
The fabric curls and blackens. You don’t move.
You are alone again.
<span class="important-question">Should you escape, even if just for one night?</span>
[[Yes- I’ll go. Let them see who my stepmother really is.|Act 1.1.1]]
[[No—I don’t want to be abused again.|Act 0.2.1]]Your <<char stepmother>> wraps her arms around her daughters. “Tonight, charm him well. You’ll be queens before dawn.”
They giggle. Then, shooting you a scornful look, she says to your father, “Don’t tell me you want that mongrel at the palace?”
He stays silent.
You are alone again.
<span class="important-question">Should you escape, even if just for one night?</span>
[[Yes — just for a moment. Just to feel the air.|Act 1.1.1]]
[[No—I don’t want to be abused again.|Act 0.2.1]]You flee.
You stay behind and sleep.
In the morning, voices stir you.
“Mother, she’s not moving.”
“She’s dead? Good. Toss her out.”
[[Continue|BadEnd1]]You walk to the window and wipe away the soot.
A white dove perches on the sill. You've seen them often—doves nesting in the old tree behind the house.
You and <<char Zela>> built that nest once, long ago, with twigs and string and laughter.
He told you, “If you ever feel trapped, they’ll remember you.”
He vanished. But the doves never stopped coming.
Suddenly, a dove lands on your shoulder—its feathers soft, its eyes bright.
“<<char Rapel>>,” it says. “This is yours.”
You are surprised. The bird… spoke?
“This shoe holds power. Wear it, and you will become what you long to be.”
“Who are you?”
“Years ago, you and a boy built us a home in the old tree. We remember you.”
You slip it on. Your rags glow. A crystal gown flows down your arms. You are radiant.
The dove flutters to the floor. A pumpkin beside the hearth begins to shimmer—
and transforms into a golden carriage, aglow with moonlight.
“Step inside,” says the dove. “It will take you to the palace. But be warned—the magic ends at midnight.”
[[Fly to the palace|Act 1.2.1]]The golden carriage rolls past rooftops, lanterns, and breathless shadows.
At the palace, music spills through every window. Light trembles on the marble steps.
You enter the ballroom. People whirl in perfect rhythm—gowns shimmer, masks glint, and laughter dances on the air.
A woman in black commands the floor, dancing with the heir of the realm.
He looks… familiar.
Then, sharp as broken glass—
“You!”
Your <<char stepmother>> stands near the orchestra, wine in hand, eyes wide with fury.
Beside her, <<char Alyssa>> drops her glass. <<char Mary>> stares, pale with disbelief.
“She doesn’t belong here!” your stepmother cries. “She’s a servant. A thief in silk!”
Guests pause. Whispers stir.
But no one moves.
Not yet.
The heir has turned toward you.
<span class="important-question">Will you stay and face them, or run before they tear you down?</span>
[[Speak up - defend yourself|Act 1.3.1]]
[[Run before they humiliate you further|Act 0.2.1]]You step forward.
“She is my stepmother,” you say, voice trembling—but clear. “And I served her and her daughters for years.”
Gasps ripple through the ballroom.
“I swept their floors, scrubbed their gowns, cooked their meals. I obeyed, I endured. Not because I was nothing—but because I still believed they were my family.”
You meet your <<char stepmother>>'s eyes.
“But what did they give in return? Cruelty. Silence. Shame.”
She stiffens. <<char Alyssa>> looks away. <<char Mary>> clenches her jaw.
You turn toward the hall.
“If I’m unworthy, it’s not because of my name or dress. It’s because I lived in a house where kindness was seen as weakness—and ashes were easier to ignore than truth.”
The room holds its breath.
[[Your stepmother laughed out loud|Act 1.3.2]]A sharp laugh slices through the silence.
“Touching,” your <<char stepmother>> says, stepping forward. “Truly.”
She sweeps the room with a mocking gaze. “And this is the daughter you still protect?” she says to your father. “A liar in stolen silk?”
He falters. Says nothing.
“She always wanted to be more than she is,” she continues. “Now look at her—standing here like she belongs.”
Murmurs ripple. You feel a chill against your spine.
Then a voice cuts through the noise.
“Enough,” says the heir.
He moves between you and the crowd, calm but firm. “Whatever this night was meant to be, let it not forget itself.”
He turns to you. “You stood your ground. That matters more than title or dress.”
He offers his hand.
“May I have this dance?”
[[You hesitate-then take his hand| Act 1.4.1]]Music begins again, cautious at first, then swelling as you both step onto the floor.
The crowd parts. Silk rustles. Eyes widen.
No one dares stop you.
You dance.
Not with perfection, but with certainty. He moves in time with you, as if you’ve done this before—in dreams, perhaps.
Whispers surge at the edges of the ballroom.
“Who is she?”
“She spoke like she was born in the palace.”
“No—like she built it.”
Your <<char stepmother>> stares, unmoving. <<char Alyssa>> clutches her fan until it cracks. <<char Mary>> is pale with fury.
But you don’t look back.
The song ends. The room exhales.
Then—a servant appears at the edge of the dance floor.
“The heir requests your presence,” he says quietly. “In the garden.”
You glance at the clock.
Midnight creeps closer.
[[Go to the garden|Act 2.1.1]]You find him in the garden.
He is speaking with the woman in black. Her gown catches the moonlight like oil on water—sleek, sharp, untouchable.
“…I won’t be traded like a coin,” he says.
She answers, cool and exact. “We are heirs. That is our role.”
He falls silent.
She doesn’t understand.
But you do.
You step forward.
“What about what he truely wants?”
She turns. Slowly. Her eyes narrow, as if you’ve interrupted something sacred.
“You again.”
Her voice slices the night.
“He is duty. I am strategy. That’s what matters.”
He looks at you then—truly looks. There’s confusion in his gaze. A flicker of something else.
But he says nothing.
The woman in black watches a moment longer.
Then, with a faint exhale, she turns away.
“I won’t stay to witness this… fantasy.”
She vanishes into the dark.
The garden falls still.
Above, the clock begins to chime.
Not yet midnight. But close.
The air tightens. Your gown hums faintly with tension.
<span class="important-question">Do you stay—knowing the magic will fade?</span>
[[Stay — whatever happens, he deserves the truth.|Act 3.1.1]]
[[Run — before he sees who you really are.|Act 3.1.2]]You stay.
The clock tolls again. Eleven fifty-six.
The air shifts.
You feel the gown grow heavier, the shimmer dissolve into night. The shoes tremble on your feet, then crack.
You lower your eyes, ashamed.
Then—his voice, softer than before.
“Rapel…”
You glance up.
He takes a step forward.
“I am Zela,” he says. “Do you remember me?”
You can’t speak. But you nod.
“I never forgot,” he says. “Not the tree. Not the birds. Not you.”
He looks down at your hands, at the ashes blooming in your skirt.
“You’re not the girl they said you were. You never were.”
He offers his hand, steady and open.
“Come with me. Before this place decides who we have to be.”
[[Run away together|GoodEnd]]
[[Say goodbye—it’s too dangerous|BadEnd2]]You turn to run.
The magic is unraveling fast—fabric dulling, light slipping through your fingers. You’re almost at the gate.
Then, behind you:
“Rapel…”
You freeze.
“I am Zela,” he says, voice just above a whisper. “Do you remember me?”
You turn slowly.
His face is no longer the heir’s. No crown, no mask. Just a boy you once knew—grown taller, but still him.
“I never forgot,” he says. “You were the only one who saw me.”
He steps closer.
“I don’t want the throne. I want to be free. With you.”
<span class="important-question">Do you stop running—just this once?</span>
[[Run away together|GoodEnd]]
[[Say goodbye — it’s too dangerous|BadEnd2]]In a wooden house far away…
“Anyone searching?” you ask.
“No,” he smiles. “Another quiet day.”
You and Zela lives happily ever after.
<img src="assets/happy_ending.png" alt="Happy Ending" style="display: block; max-width: 100%;
margin: 0 auto 20px auto; border-radius: 8px; box-shadow: 0 4px 8px rgba(0,0,0,0.3);">
[[Restart|Start]]You never went to the palace.
You stayed.
You cleaned the soot from the hearth. You scrubbed the dishes. You swept the stairs.
Just as you always did.
They never asked you where you would have gone.
They never spoke of the celebration again.
It passed without you—like every other thing.
Your <<char stepmother>> grew quieter in her cruelty.
<<char Alyssa>> and <<char Mary>> stopped mocking you.
They no longer needed to.
Even your father forgot to look at you.
The days passed.
You learned how to stay silent before you were asked to.
You learned how to make yourself small, then smaller.
One day, you woke up and couldn't remember what your real name was.
Not <<char Rapel>>. Not <<char Cinderella>>. Just no one at all.
<img src="assets/badend1.png" alt="Bad Ending1" style="display: block; max-width: 100%;
margin: 0 auto 20px auto; border-radius: 8px; box-shadow: 0 4px 8px rgba(0,0,0,0.3);">
[[Restart|Start]]You return home with your back straight and your eyes still burning.
They saw you speak. They saw you stand.
Your <<char stepmother>> does not raise her voice.
Instead, she lowers it.
“She thinks she can humiliate me in front of nobles,” she says.
“To spit on everything I’ve built. My daughters. My name.”
<<char Alyssa>> and <<char Mary>> say nothing. They no longer mock. They watch you like something fragile—already cracked.
Then one morning… you are not in the house.
No one speaks of you.
Some say you ran away.
Some say you never existed.
The ashes are cleaned. The silence remains.
The girl by the fire is gone.
<img src="assets/badend2.png" alt="Bad Ending2" style="display: block; max-width: 100%;
margin: 0 auto 20px auto; border-radius: 8px; box-shadow: 0 4px 8px rgba(0,0,0,0.3);">
[[Restart|Start]]