BURNING CROWN | A Dark Royal Romance

BURNING CROWN 02-Gratitude

Two years passed quickly. The quiet, reserved girl of sixteen had now become a full-fledged young woman of eighteen. A slender, delicate frame. Large, round eyes hiding a fierce determination. She was no longer merely an "orphan" — she was someone who could stand on her own.

A commotion rose in the small hall of the orphanage when the caretakers announced the results of the scholarship examination.

"She actually passed... the Japan scholarship!"

Many of the children stared at her with a mix of admiration and envy. But Nicha stood still, her hand trembling as she clutched the results paper. Not from fear — but because she had never believed that the world would open a path this wide for her.

A full two-year scholarship... to the Faculty of Business Administration at a prestigious university in Tokyo, Japan.

That night, she sat at the same window of the shared dormitory — the one she had once used to watch for someone who never came back. This time, the moonlight fell upon the exam results in her hand. Her large, round eyes glistened with tears — not of sorrow, but of a quiet, deep joy she kept hidden within.

"Mama... I did it," the soft whisper drifted away on the cold wind.

On the morning of her departure, the children at the orphanage gathered to see her off. Many waved and shouted words of encouragement. Some cried with longing. The caretaker handed her an old donated suitcase with a warm smile.

"Go on, dear. The world is much wider than you think. Use this chance to change your life."

She stepped into the car bound for the airport. She glanced back at the same road—the one where she had once waited, hoping someone would come back for her. But today... it was the road carrying her out into a new world.

As the plane soared into the sky, she gazed through the window at the vast expanse of clouds, pressing the scholarship acceptance letter against her chest. The emptiness that had once consumed her heart was replaced by a flame of hope. And she made a silent promise to herself.

"From now on... I will no longer be just an orphan. I will be someone who builds her own life with her own hands."

...

The past was the path that had pushed an orphan, ignored by the world, into growing up to become a young woman standing in the middle of the grand Fenhardt manor. A world as different as heaven and earth — so different that sometimes even she herself couldn't believe it was real.

The Fenhardt manor was so lavish and cold it nearly took her breath away. Ivory marble pillars soared upward. Crystal chandeliers sparkled with brilliant light. Every corner of this place was steeped in the scent of power and prestige — something the orphan girl of yesterday couldn't have even dreamed of.

She was here because of one man—Alexander Fenhardt, Elliot's grandfather.

She still remembered well the day Lord Fenhardt had appeared at a university event as a major benefactor. That day, she was merely a scholarship student assigned to deliver the opening speech and a small report on stage. Her voice secretly trembled with nervousness, but her words were clear and articulate. The sharp eyes of the old man fixed on her as though he saw something in her. And not long after, her professor delivered the news... Lord Fenhardt wished to recruit her immediately after graduation, for the position of personal secretary to that man.

What she hadn't expected was kindness that exceeded the boundaries of work. Lord Fenhardt invited her to live in this very manor, as if embracing an orphan like her as another member of the family... a compassion she couldn't possibly refuse.

Such a debt of gratitude — she could only repay it by pouring herself wholeheartedly into her work as the personal secretary of Elliot Fenhardt.

And that was the beginning of a life full of contradictions... because at the company, he was no different from a demon. But at the manor, he wore the mask of a perfect gentleman in front of his grandfather.

Elliot Fenhardt—twenty-five. The grandson of Lord Alexander Fenhardt. A business executive the world watched closely.The first time she saw him, he wasn't in a suit. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his medium-brown hair falling to his shoulders, loosely tied back. A smirk lingered on his lips. His gaze alone was enough to silence a room.

He was a young executive who never followed any rules — not even when it came to his own appearance. And yet every movement radiated authority without effort. Colleagues and senior executives with far more experience still turned to look every time he walked into a meeting room.

To her, he was a demon at the company—relentless, unforgiving. He piled work on her with impossible deadlines, cut her off mid-meeting before she could speak, and spoke with a cold sharpness that left her breathless. But at the manor, he wore a different face—praising her in front of Lord Fenhardt as if she were his most trusted assistant.

Lord Fenhardt would always smile with satisfaction, and she could only smile back — even though inside, she wanted to scream that none of it was true.

For nearly three years, she had been trapped in this cycle— "gratitude" that forced her to stay, and "pain" inflicted by the man who was her boss. Every time her gaze met his razor-sharp eyes, she reminded herself... Elliot Fenhardt was not a man she could ever trust. Not even for a second.

The late morning sun streamed through the tall glass windows of the Pentagram Corporation headquarters. The top-floor office was heavy with a suffocating atmosphere — so quiet that nothing could be heard except the faint tapping of fingertips on a keyboard.

Nicha sat behind the personal secretary's desk. A thick stack of documents was arranged before her. Email notifications chimed relentlessly. Work that needed to be sent kept piling up in waves, and every time she thought she might catch her breath, new documents would land on her desk before she could brace herself.

"Three hours. I want all of this on the conference table." A deep voice cut in, making her look up in surprise. He leaned against the desk, his razor-sharp gaze leaving no room for negotiation.

"But... there's too much. I—"

"I didn't ask whether it was too much or too little," Elliot interjected immediately, a fleeting smirk appearing at the corner of his lips for a fraction of a second. "I told you to do it."

She clenched her fists beneath the desk. The pressure pressed down until she could barely breathe. Still, her gaze held—unyielding.

He leaned down slightly until the tips of his light-brown hair nearly brushed the papers in front of her. A faint trace of cool cologne drifted to her nose, but instead of warmth, it made her feel shackled.

"Or would you like me to report to my grandfather that the secretary he personally chose... can't handle the job?" The deep voice dragged slowly — more oppressive than any shout.

She clenched her jaw. Shame and anger swirled in her chest, but all she could do was nod, then bow her head and continue sorting the documents.

Elliot chuckled softly in his throat before pulling away to recline in the executive chair. His tall frame stretched out at ease, as if he hadn't just buried her beneath a mountain of work.

Time passed until the meeting was near. She carried the heavy stack of files into the glass-walled conference room. Tense conversations among the executives buzzed loudly, but the moment Elliot stepped in, the atmosphere fell silent automatically.

He took his seat at the head of the table, opened the file she had prepared, glanced through it briefly, and his curved lips uttered just one word...

"Not bad."

Just like that, the weight of all the pressure beforehand was swept away as though it had never existed. Every pair of eyes in the conference room turned to look at her. Some held a glimmer of admiration. But only she knew that... behind that short compliment was a game of oppression he played with her again and again.

Nicha drew a deep breath, trying to stand firm — even though her heart trembled inside... because she knew well that as long as she remained under the roof of the Fenhardt family, tomorrow would be no different from today.