The Extra's Rise-Chapter 559: A Blue Rose Blooms (1)

Eighteenth birthday.

Eighteen marked the age of becoming an adult in every legal and social sense, making it one of the most significant milestones alongside the sixteenth birthday when magical abilities fully manifested. But for most people, eighteen simply meant freedom, responsibility, and the beginning of true independence.

For me, it meant something far more profound.

Tomorrow would be my eighteenth birthday, and with it would come the moment I had been waiting for, dreaming about, preparing myself for over these past months. The moment when I could finally be with Arthur completely, without reservation or artificial barriers.

I was the last of the four of us to reach this milestone—my birthday falling latest in the year—but that was perfectly fine. After all, Arthur was a man I couldn’t help but love with absolutely everything I had, every fiber of my being, every beat of my heart. He was worth waiting for. He was worth anything.

The man who had saved me from my mother’s shadow.

The man who had given someone like me—the daughter of humanity’s greatest enemy—the gift of genuine happiness and acceptance.

I wouldn’t care if I had to share him with ten women, as long as I could feel his love, his touch, his complete acceptance warming my skin and filling the empty places in my soul that had ached for so long.

I stood before the tall windows of my room in the Springshaper estate, watching the late afternoon sun paint the gardens in shades of gold and amber. Tomorrow’s celebration would be intimate—exactly as I preferred. Grand parties had always felt like performances to me, elaborate charades where I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. But tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow would be real.

"Miss Rose?" Mia’s gentle voice interrupted my contemplation. My personal maid had been with our family for years, one of the few people who had never looked at me with fear or suspicion despite knowing exactly whose daughter I was. "Your father would like to speak with you in his study, if you have a moment."

I turned from the window, noting the careful way Mia phrased her request. Father never demanded my presence—he always asked, always treated me as though my feelings and preferences mattered. It was one of many ways he had helped me understand that I was more than just the circumstances of my birth.

"Of course," I replied, smoothing down my casual blouse and skirt. "Thank you, Mia."

As I made my way through the estate’s familiar corridors, I caught glimpses of myself in the mirrors that lined the walls. Auburn hair that caught the light like burnished copper, brown eyes that reflected warmth rather than the cold calculation I had feared inheriting. Every time I saw my reflection, I felt a surge of profound gratitude that I looked nothing like her.

I bore no trace of my mother’s dark red hair or those terrifying jade green eyes that had haunted my nightmares for years. Instead, I was entirely my father’s daughter in appearance—a living reminder of the good that had created me rather than the evil that had tried to claim me.

Father’s study was a sanctuary of warm wood and comfortable leather, filled with books on governance, agricultural innovation, and magical theory. Modern holographic displays showed real-time data from the estate’s operations, while traditional bookshelves lined the walls.

"Rose," he said warmly, rising from his desk as I entered. Even now, approaching middle age, he carried himself with the quiet dignity that had made him respected throughout the noble circles despite the scandal of his marriage. His auburn hair, now streaked with distinguished silver, caught the lamplight, and his brown eyes—so like my own—crinkled with genuine affection.

"Father," I replied, settling into the chair across from his desk that had become mine over years of conversations like this. "Mia said you wanted to speak with me?"

"Tomorrow is a significant day," he said, his voice carrying that careful tone he used when discussing important matters. "Your eighteenth birthday will mark more than just reaching adulthood. I wanted to ensure you’re prepared for everything that entails."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, understanding the delicate implications of his words. "I’m ready, Father. I’ve been ready for quite some time."

He nodded, though I caught the slight tightening around his eyes that suggested this conversation wasn’t entirely comfortable for him. No father truly wanted to discuss his daughter’s romantic relationships, especially when those relationships were as complex as mine.

"Arthur is a good man," he said finally. "Better than I dared hope for when I first learned of your feelings for him. He’s treated you with respect, shown patience when others might have taken advantage, and most importantly—he’s helped you heal from wounds that I couldn’t address alone."

The last part was said quietly, but with such profound gratitude that it made my throat tighten with emotion. Father had done everything in his power to help me overcome the trauma of my childhood, the shame of my heritage, the fear that I might somehow carry my mother’s evil within me. But it had been Arthur who had finally convinced me that I was worthy of love, that I could be more than just the daughter of humanity’s greatest enemy.

"He sees me," I said simply. "Not as Evelyn’s daughter, not as a political liability, not as someone to be pitied or feared. He sees Rose. Just Rose."

"And that’s all you’ve ever wanted to be," Father replied with understanding that came from years of watching me struggle with my identity.

"It is." I paused, gathering courage for what I needed to say. "Father, I know my relationship with Arthur is unconventional. The arrangement with Rachel, Cecilia, and Seraphina—I know it’s not what you would have chosen for me under normal circumstances."

He was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Normal circumstances," he repeated. "Rose, nothing about our lives has ever been normal. Your mother saw to that. What matters to me is your happiness and well-being. If sharing Arthur’s affections with three other remarkable young women brings you joy and fulfillment, then I support it completely."

"Even though it means I’ll never be anyone’s only love?"

"You are Arthur’s love," he corrected gently. "The fact that he has room in his heart for others doesn’t diminish what he feels for you. If anything, it speaks to the generosity of spirit that drew you to him in the first place."

I felt tears prick at my eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if I’m selfish for wanting this. For wanting him despite everything complicated about who I am."

"My dear daughter," Father said, his voice filled with the fierce protectiveness that had shielded me throughout my childhood, "you deserve love. You deserve happiness. You deserve to be cherished exactly as you are. Never let anyone—including yourself—convince you otherwise."

A soft knock at the door interrupted our conversation. "Come in," Father called.

Mia entered with a tea service, her movements efficient but unobtrusive. She had clearly anticipated that our conversation might require the comfort of familiar rituals.

"Thank you, Mia," I said as she poured steaming tea into delicate porcelain cups. The familiar scent of chamomile and honey filled the room, bringing with it memories of countless evenings when Mia had helped soothe my nightmares with this same blend.

"Miss Rose," Mia said as she prepared to leave, "shall I lay out the designer cocktail dress for tomorrow’s celebration? The one that arrived from Southern continent last week?"

I nodded, though my mind was elsewhere. "That would be perfect. Thank you."

After Mia left, Father and I sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping our tea and watching the shadows lengthen across the room.

As I prepared to leave his study, Father called my name once more. "Rose? Be happy tomorrow. You’ve earned it."

Later that evening, as Mia helped me change into comfortable pajamas for bed, I found myself thinking about the journey that had brought me to this moment. The years of shame and self-doubt, the fear that I might somehow be tainted by my mother’s evil, the gradual healing that had come through Father’s unwavering love and Arthur’s patient acceptance.

"Miss Rose," Mia said as she brushed my auburn hair, "you seem peaceful tonight. Content."

"I am," I replied, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "For the first time in my life, I feel like I know exactly who I am and what I want."

"And what’s that, if you don’t mind me asking?"

I smiled, thinking of tomorrow and all the tomorrows that would follow. "I want to be Arthur’s Rose. Just Rose, who is loved for exactly who she is."

"I think," Mia said with the gentle wisdom that had guided me through so many difficult moments, "that tomorrow you’ll get exactly what you want."

As I settled into bed, surrounded by the familiar comfort of my room and the loving protection of my family, I felt something I had never quite experienced before: complete peace with who I was and excitement for who I was becoming.

Tomorrow would mark the beginning of my adult life. But more than that, it would mark the moment when I finally, fully stepped into the love I had been afraid to believe I deserved.

Eighteen had never felt so much like freedom.