Elara returned to the hidden space with purposeful steps, heart pounding as though it recognized the gravity of this discovery before her mind could fully grasp it. The lavender sky above shimmered faintly, as if echoing the anticipation that pulsed in her veins.
She walked deeper into the blooming wonderland, eyes catching on strange flora she could barely identify. She passed blossoms that shifted color with each breath, herbs that hummed softly, and trees with roots that glowed gently beneath the earth.
Then she saw it: a pedestal made of marble-like crystal, vines of blooming jasmine twisted around it. Resting atop was a sealed scroll—aged yet untouched by time.
Her fingers trembled as she broke the wax seal.
**"To the Inheritor of Fragrance Eternal,"** the letter began.
**"This space belongs to the last Perfumer of the Celestial Court—Ye Xianglan. My obsession, my purpose, was to create a scent so profound it could transcend time, cure all afflictions, and grant the soul immortality. I failed, but I leave behind the garden of my failures, my trials, and my near-victories. Within this space lies every herb I gathered over a hundred years—ginseng of five centuries, ganoderma lucidum harvested under red moons, baizhi fed on spring dew, and many more whose names you will not find in mortal texts.**
**At the center of it all is the Spirit Spring. It heals, restores, and amplifies the essence of anything placed within it. This is your key to awaken fragrance like no other—perhaps you, my heir, will succeed where I failed.**
**Let your nose be your compass, and your soul be your recipe.**"
Elara reread it thrice, pulse racing.
She turned her gaze toward the spring. It glowed like moonlight caught in water, soft and opalescent. She knelt and dipped her hand in it. The warmth that surged through her was indescribable—like clarity, peace, and exhilaration all woven into one.
She brought a single petal from a night-blooming flower nearby and dropped it into the water. The scent that blossomed was ethereal. It touched her heart. It was fragrance in its purest form.
"This... This is what they were after."
Her gaze hardened. "And now it's mine."
---
Later that day, dressed in casual elegance, Elara took her mother to the city mall. It was part bonding time, part research—she wanted her mother to unwind, and she also needed to observe current beauty brands on the shelves.
Her mother smiled more now, albeit tired from the resignation process. "You've changed so much, Elara. Stronger. Calmer."
"I had to," Elara said softly. "For us."
As they walked into a cosmetics boutique, the sudden hush of the crowd drew their attention.
A woman with curled brown hair, designer heels, and sunglasses too large for her face entered, surrounded by bodyguards. Beside her was a young girl—equally overdressed, smugness practically dripping from her walk.
Elara's heart stopped.
Her stepmother.
And the girl who had called her sister.
They sauntered toward them with fake surprise.
"Well, if it isn't the forgotten daughter and her shabby mother," the stepmother said, lips curled.
Her mother tensed.
The sister tilted her head. "Didn't think we'd see you in a place like this. You two actually shopping? Or just browsing until payday?"
Laughter from the guards.
Gasps from the watching crowd.
But Elara didn't flinch.
She looked at them with cold detachment, like one might study dirt on glass.
When the mockery ended, and they turned with exaggerated pride to strut away, Elara finally turned to her mother.
"Mom," she said, voice low but steel-forged, "I promise you this right now. One day soon, you won't just be respected. You'll be *envied*. You won't be in their shadows anymore—you'll be leading the entire beauty industry."
Her mother blinked, stunned. "Elara…"
Elara's eyes gleamed with quiet fury and promise. "Not just perfume, Mom. *Everything.