Chapter 7: Wen Hall
At Wen Hall, a prestigious institution known for its rigorous education and refined atmosphere, the children of nobles and wealthy families gathered to hone their skills in various disciplines. Among them were the three legitimate daughters of the Smith family: Amy, Cindy, and Ella.
Each sister had carved out her own reputation within the halls of this esteemed academy. Amy was celebrated for her exceptional talent in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—— a true polymath whose abilities earned her admiration from both peers and instructors alike.
Her graceful demeanor and intellectual prowess made her a natural leader among her classmates. Cindy, on the other hand, excelled in practical arts such as embroidery and bookkeeping.
While not as artistically inclined as Amy, she possessed an astute mind for numbers and meticulous craftsmanship that garnered respect in its own right.
Together, these two sisters formed a formidable pair, embodying the ideals of refinement and accomplishment expected of young women of their standing.
Ella, however, stood apart from her siblings in ways that drew more criticism than praise. From an early age, improper guidance had left her disinterested in reading and writing, subjects considered foundational at Wen Hall.
Her academic performance suffered greatly as a result, earning her a reputation as someone who lacked discipline and ambition.
Where Amy's compositions inspired awe and Cindy's needlework displayed precision, Ella's struggles with basic literacy became fodder for whispers and ridicule.
This disparity between the sisters only grew more pronounced over time, creating an unspoken divide that strained familial bonds. It wasn't merely that Ella lagged behind; it was the perception that she didn't care to improve—a notion fueled by her frequent absences and apparent indifference toward scholarly pursuits.
One morning, as the carriages rolled toward Wen Hall, Emily, one of the household servants tasked with accompanying the sisters, noticed something unusual.
For the first time in recent memory, Ella Smith did not join Amy and Cindy in their usual journey to school. Concerned, Emily approached Ella, who stood near the gates of their estate, gazing off into the distance. "Why aren't you traveling with your sisters today?"
Emily asked gently, though her tone carried a hint of curiosity. Ella turned to face her, her expression calm but tinged with resolve. "We are no longer under the same roof," she replied softly, her words carrying a weight far beyond their simplicity. "Our paths have diverged too much to travel together."
Inside another carriage, Amy and Cindy sat side by side, discussing Ella's absence. The conversation began innocently enough, with Amy expressing mild concern about whether Ella might be unwell or preoccupied with some personal matter.
But Cindy quickly dismissed any notion of sympathy. "It's just another one of her tantrums," Cindy said dismissively, rolling her eyes. "She always finds excuses to avoid responsibility. Honestly, I don't know why we bother worrying about her."
Amy hesitated, perhaps sensing the harshness in Cindy's words, but ultimately remained silent. The tension between the sisters hung heavy in the air, underscoring the growing rift that separated them—not just physically, but emotionally and intellectually as well.
As the carriage rumbled along the cobblestone streets leading to Wen Hall, the contrast between Ella's solitary figure back at the estate and her sisters' shared journey underscored the widening chasm within the Smith family.
To outsiders, it might have seemed like a simple case of sibling rivalry or differing priorities. Yet beneath the surface lay deeper currents of misunderstanding, judgment, and unresolved conflict.
For Ella, staying behind felt less like rebellion and more like acceptance—a quiet acknowledgment that her place no longer aligned with theirs.
Meanwhile, Amy and Cindy continued down their familiar path, seemingly unaware—or unwilling to confront—the implications of what Ella's decision truly meant.
Upon arriving at Wen Hall, Amy and Cindy stepped out of their carriage to a warm welcome from their classmates.
The courtyard buzzed with chatter and laughter, as students exchanged greetings and caught up on the latest gossip. A girl dressed in a soft pink gown, her hair adorned with delicate ribbons, approached the sisters with a cheerful smile.
"Good morning, Amy! Good morning, Cindy!" she exclaimed before pausing mid-sentence, her brow furrowing slightly. "Wait… where is Ella today? Isn't she usually with you?"
The question seemed innocent enough, but it set off a ripple of murmurs among the surrounding students. One boy smirked, leaning casually against a pillar.
"Maybe she's still recovering from that cold she had last week," he suggested mockingly, his tone dripping with insincerity. Another student chimed in, louder this time, so everyone could hear. "Or maybe she's too embarrassed to show her face after falling into the water while spying on Crown Prince James!"
The comment elicited bursts of laughter from several others, their voices rising in cruel harmony. Someone added, "Honestly, it's no surprise. She's always been so clumsy and awkward—just look at how poorly she performs in class. It's almost like she doesn't belong here at all."
The mocking grew bolder, each remark cutting deeper than the last. "Her family must be so disappointed," another girl remarked snidely, twirling a strand of her golden hair around her finger.
"I mean, Amy and Cindy are such perfect examples of refinement, but Ella? She seems to come from an entirely different world—one without culture or grace."
The laughter swelled again, filling the courtyard with a cacophony of derision. Some students mimicked exaggerated expressions of shock or embarrassment, pretending to trip over imaginary obstacles as if reenacting Ella's supposed misadventures.
Others whispered conspiratorially about how her lack of accomplishments reflected poorly on the entire Smith family name.
Amy shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Cindy, who appeared unfazed by the spectacle unfolding around them. Though Amy tried to interject once or twice, offering weak defenses like "Let's not jump to conclusions" or "Perhaps there's a reasonable explanation," her protests were drowned out by the overwhelming tide of mockery.
Even those who weren't actively participating seemed content to stand by, watching the scene unfold with amused detachment. The cruelty of the moment was palpable, yet somehow normalized within the social dynamics of Wen Hall—a place where appearances mattered above all else, and anyone perceived as falling short became fair game for ridicule.
Just as the laughter reached its peak, a sudden shout cut through the din. "Look! Ella Smith is here!" The announcement came from a boy standing near the entrance, his voice carrying enough urgency to silence the crowd.
All heads turned simultaneously toward the gates, where Ella now stood, framed by the archway. She moved slowly but deliberately, her presence commanding attention despite the chaos she had inadvertently interrupted. Gone was the timid, self-conscious girl they had grown accustomed to mocking. In her place stood someone entirely transformed.
Ella wore a deep red double-cloud goose-patterned dress, its intricate design speaking of elegance and sophistication.
Over it, she draped a dark blue embroidered cloak, richly detailed with motifs that shimmered faintly in the morning light. The colors, though perhaps overly mature for her youthful frame, lent her an air of authority that silenced even the most vocal critics.
Her steps were light yet steady, betraying none of the hesitation or awkwardness that had once defined her movements. As she walked, her gaze swept across the courtyard, meeting the eyes of those who dared to stare. There was no trace of fear or shame in her expression—only calm determination and a depth that hinted at untold strength.
The classroom, which moments earlier had been alive with jeers and snickers, gradually fell into an uneasy silence. Students who had laughed freely just seconds ago now found themselves unable to look away, their initial amusement replaced by astonishment.
Whispers began anew, but this time they carried a different tone—less mocking, more uncertain. "Is that really Ella?" one girl murmured to her friend, her voice barely audible.
Another student leaned closer, squinting as if trying to reconcile the image before them with the person they thought they knew. "She looks… different," he admitted reluctantly, his skepticism warring with undeniable evidence.
Even the teachers paused mid-conversation, their attention drawn irresistibly to the figure making her way toward the front of the room.
The transformation was impossible to ignore. Where once there had been a girl struggling to find her footing, now stood someone exuding confidence and poise.
Every detail—from the way she carried herself to the subtle curve of her lips—spoke of change, of growth, of resilience. And though no one dared say it aloud, the collective realization settled heavily in the air: Ella Smith was no longer the same person they had dismissed so easily.