Sorry, I'm not Cinderella

WELCOME PARTY FOR NEW STUDENTS AT NEW YORK UNIVERSITY!

The announcement board for the masquerade party caught Clara’s eye as she quietly walked down the school hallway alone. It had been a month since she started at the university, and everything felt as monotonous as ever. Some students would occasionally point at the birthmark on her face if they happened to notice it. Clara always tried to hide it beneath her sleek, long hair.

She had no friends; no one wanted to befriend someone they considered unattractive. On top of that, her limited social skills made her seem like a mute, even though that wasn’t the case.

Everything might have remained uneventful if not for the presence of the sisters Hana and Sarah. They were daughters of Xenia, who had paid a significant amount of money to enroll them at the university, hoping they’d find their "princes."

"I bet she won’t dare show up at the party," Hana said.

Sarah glanced at Clara as she passed by, her eyes showing a hint of pity. But she didn’t respond, instead turning her attention to the crowd gathering nearby. The students were excitedly welcoming the arrival of the four most popular guys in school—the "princes" every girl dreamed of.

The four stepped out through the large doors: Liam, with his short black hair and pale complexion, a talented artist; Arlo, the blonde boy with a dazzling smile, and the son of the university’s principal; Zane, the second son of the Thomas conglomerate, with piercing amber eyes; and finally Roly, with fiery red hair, the second son of the Martin family. All four were leaders of the student council and responsible for organizing this year’s party.

The girls screamed their names as the other boys looked visibly annoyed. The four quickly made their way through the crowd and headed to the meeting room, where Neil and Corbin were waiting.

As soon as the meeting room door opened, Corbin voiced his annoyance:

“Finally, you’re here.”

“Sorry, it’s the fan crowd,” Arlo laughed, scratching his head, while the other three pulled out chairs and took their seats.

“What’s this meeting about?” Zane asked coldly, his irritation evident.

“Of course, it’s about tomorrow night’s party,” a female voice rang out from the doorway. A girl with golden hair and bright, confident eyes walked in.

“Here you are, Orla?” Arlo greeted her with a welcoming smile.

“What’s there to discuss? Haven’t the decisions already been made?” Neil snapped, clearly displeased.

Orla replied calmly, “Apologies for making decisions without your approval.”

Her words made the atmosphere tense. Both Zane and Neil, who despised crowded events, looked at her with little kindness.

“Oh, come on, you two!” Arlo quickly interjected to mediate. “I think Orla’s idea is great. Every year, we welcome new students with boring speeches. Let’s try something different this time.”

Arlo glanced at the other members, seemingly seeking their support. Corbin cleared his throat before speaking:

"Even though I don’t like this idea much..." He paused, catching Orla’s scowl. "...I agree with Arlo. We should try something new."

Orla turned her gaze to Liam, who gave a hesitant smile.

"I feel the same as Corbin. Besides, the announcement has already been made. It’s too late to take it back now."

Roly remained silent, keeping a neutral stance.

Zane scanned the room, his eyes cold and calculating, before declaring icily, "If you’ve all agreed, then proceed. But don’t expect me to participate."

With that, the meeting ended. Zane stood and left, leaving the others shaking their heads in exasperation. His rigid personality was no surprise to anyone, but Arlo wasn’t discouraged. He was determined to convince Zane to show up at the party.

...

Hana and Sarah returned home, where their stepmother, Xenia, was waiting with a radiant smile. As soon as they entered their room, the two sisters gasped in surprise at the enormous boxes on their beds.

"Oh my God! This is amazing!" Hana squealed as she opened her box to reveal a stunning masquerade gown.

Hana slipped into a Snow White-inspired dress, while Sarah tried on an Aurora-style gown. They both rushed into the living room, twirling in their dresses and hugging Xenia tightly, showering her with gratitude.

At that moment, Clara entered the house. Her eyes landed on the dazzling gowns, and a fleeting look of longing crossed her face. But it quickly faded as Xenia’s sharp voice rang out:

"What are you staring at? Get back to work!"

Xenia despised the resentful look in Clara’s eyes; it irritated her every time she saw the girl. Clara silently turned away, her heart heavy.

She climbed to the attic, a cramped, dusty space that doubled as both a storage room and her so-called "home." Behind her, Xenia gave a loud, disdainful snort. Only after Clara was out of sight did she turn back to her daughters with a self-satisfied smile.

"My beautiful girls, the prince is sure to notice you at the party!"

She beamed with pride as she admired her daughters, who, in her eyes, were dazzling beauties—even if others might not entirely agree.

Later, while Clara continued to toil alone, Xenia and her daughters went out to prepare for tomorrow’s event. As Clara scrubbed the floor, she suddenly heard Xenia’s footsteps approaching, accompanied by her grating voice:

"You want to go to the party too, don’t you?"

Clara looked up, her hands still clutching the mop tightly. Meeting Xenia’s probing glare, she merely shook her head to indicate no.

"You’d better know your place!" Xenia sneered. "Someone like you dreaming of such grandeur? How ridiculous!"

Xenia was about to turn and head to her room, but something seemed to cross her mind. This was a masquerade ball—everyone would be wearing masks. The thought unsettled her, sparking a new wave of suspicion that Clara might sneak off to attend the event. She spun around, her tone sharp and threatening.

"Tomorrow night, you stay home, clean the house thoroughly, and have dinner ready. If I hear one complaint from the guests, you'll regret it!"

With that, Xenia slammed the door, leaving Clara standing motionless. Clara pursed her lips, watching Xenia leave, but didn’t bother to reply. She simply resumed her chores, uninterested in the idea of attending such a boring event.

That evening, Clara returned to her small attic room and sat curled up in a corner. She opened an old, worn album, flipping through photographs of her mother, each picture soothing her aching heart. One photo caught her attention: her mother in a stunning ball gown, a mysterious mask covering her face. Clara stared at it for a long time before drifting off to sleep.

In her dream, Clara was wearing a breathtaking blue gown, glittering glass slippers, and a mask that concealed her face, leaving only her bright, sparkling eyes visible. Around her neck was the necklace her mother had left behind—a cherished keepsake. She arrived at a dazzling ballroom illuminated by brilliant lights and began dancing with a mysterious man whose face remained hidden.

"Clara! Get down here and make dinner!"

Xenia's shrill voice from downstairs abruptly shattered the dream. Clara stirred, trying to shake off the vivid images as she hurried to the kitchen to prepare the meal.

"Oh, my two princesses!"

Xenia exclaimed gleefully as Hana and Sarah returned from their skincare treatments at the salon. Their skin was radiant, and Xenia’s excitement was unmistakable. Clara remained silent, suppressing an eye-roll as she kept her head down and worked.

Hana walked past Clara with a smug look, while Sarah gave her a glance of indifference. Yet, deep down, both sisters harbored disdain for Clara, whom they saw as not only plain but also lacking the means to "beautify" herself as they did.

Clara served dinner quietly and retreated to her attic. Night fell, and the dim glow of moonlight filtered through the small attic window. Clara hugged her knees and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be carried away once more by her dream.

In the dream, she was again dressed in the elegant blue gown, stepping into the radiant lights of the masquerade ball. Her glass slippers sparkled with every step, the mysterious mask concealing her identity while her starry eyes shone. The enchanting atmosphere made her heart race. She danced gracefully with the same enigmatic man, his face still a mystery.

The music echoed in the dream’s magical space, swirling around her. It was so beautiful, so perfect, that Clara wished she would never wake up.

Finally, the night of the ball arrived. Hana and Sarah were personally escorted by Xenia to the event, but before leaving, she cast Clara a threatening look.

"Stay here and prepare to greet the guests," she snapped.

Clara knew Xenia only said this to ensure she wouldn’t sneak off to the party. Tonight, Xenia would be at a friend’s house playing cards until late. With the two sisters attending the ball, Clara would finally have the night to herself. Just one night of freedom, but it was enough to make her feel liberated.

Back in her room, Clara sat at her desk and picked up a half-finished book. But tonight, she couldn’t focus. Within five minutes, she was yawning and nodding off. Resting her head on the desk, she drifted into that dream again. This time, a sweet voice spoke to her:

"Clara! It’s almost time. Hurry! Open the wardrobe behind the curtain."

Startled awake, Clara looked around in confusion, her gaze landing on the curtain swaying gently by the window. A strange pull beckoned her, and she hesitated before stepping forward and pulling the curtain aside. Behind it was a wooden wardrobe, just as in her dream. She opened its doors and froze in shock.

Inside was a stunning blue gown, a pair of sparkling glass slippers, and a mask. They were exactly like the ones from her dream, but what startled Clara the most was that the dress was identical to the one her mother had once worn.

An unexplainable feeling swept over her—a connection she couldn’t describe. Clara hesitated for a moment, then slipped on the dress and stood before the mirror. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The gown fit her perfectly, as if it had been made for her. She smiled with delight, but her expression quickly dimmed when her gaze fell on the birthmark on her left cheek.

She sat down on the bed with a sigh. That mark felt like a constant reminder of the misfortunes in her life. She considered taking off the gown, but as she reached for the mask, it slipped from her hands and fell to the floor. Bending down to pick it up, Clara suddenly remembered: this was a masquerade ball. If she wore the mask, no one would recognize her.

"But I can’t speak," Clara murmured, worrying, clouding her face as she sat on the floor, her fingers gently brushing the gown.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop, two figures sat side by side. They were Clara’s guardian angels. When Clara was born, a curse had followed her into the world. The curse declared that if she were born a girl, she would bear a birthmark on her left cheek, which would grow larger as she aged, disfiguring her face. The only way to break the curse was a sincere kiss from someone who truly loved her.

Clara’s mother had once encountered the wicked woman who cast the curse. On her wedding day, that woman appeared and proclaimed the curse as inevitable. Despite this, Clara’s mother always believed that one day her daughter would find true love and break the spell.

"Will Clara attend the ball?" the blonde-haired girl asked.

"I don't think so!" Martha sighed, her tone filled with disappointment. "She doesn't seem interested."

"Are you sure, Martha?" Bertha cast her friend a doubtful glance.

"Come on, Bertha, our mission is to help Clara find someone who can break the curse."

"You mean you'd intervene if Clara doesn’t go to the ball?" Bertha realized what her friend was implying.

"Maybe!" Martha replied with a mischievous grin.

The two girls observed Clara for a while, but there was no movement from her. Losing patience, Martha was ready to act on her plan. The brunette raised her hand, but before she could do anything, Clara suddenly stood up, donned her mask, slipped on her shoes, tied her hair up elegantly, and wore the necklace her mother had given her. She looked just like Cinderella. Clara had made up her mind—she would go to the ball.

Clara left the house, though she might already have been late due to her hesitation. She tried to hail a taxi, but none stopped for her. The two guardian angels shook their heads, and with a snap of Martha’s fingers, a cab immediately pulled over. Clara climbed in with relief.

"New York University, please!" she said.

Strangely, she had spoken out loud. Perhaps wearing the mask gave her a newfound confidence.

Adjusting her attire one last time in the restroom mirror before entering the event, Clara made sure everything was perfect. Once satisfied, she exited the restroom but accidentally bumped into someone. She nearly lost her balance, but the person caught her just in time. Regaining her footing, Clara looked up to see a young man wearing a lion mask, radiating strength.

"Sorry!" Clara said softly before quickly bowing her head and walking into the ballroom.

The man, with jet-black hair and amber eyes, watched her retreating figure, a strange feeling stirring within him.

"It seems no one recognizes me," he murmured before stepping into the party.

He paused, however, upon overhearing a conversation between two girls near the entrance.

"How will we know who Zane is?" one asked.

"That’s easy. He’s the only one wearing a lion mask," the other said excitedly.

"How do you know?"

"Everyone in the school knows! The rumor spread that Zane would wear a lion mask, so no one else dared to wear one."

The girl confidently reassured her friend before they both entered the party. Zane stepped out from behind the wall, fuming. He hadn’t wanted to attend, but that fool Arlo had insisted on dragging him along. If he hadn’t agreed, Arlo would have camped out in Thomas’s house indefinitely.

Everything he was wearing had been prepared by Orla. And now this? It was supposed to be a masquerade, but he stood out so much that everyone recognized him. Furious, Zane turned to leave, only to bump into someone else—this time, a young man.

"President," the boy stammered, bowing his head. "I’m sorry."

Just as the rumors said, everyone recognized him, not just the girls but even the boys. Zane’s anger flared. Sensing Zane’s mood, the boy tried to slip away, but Zane grabbed him.

"Stop."

"Is something wrong?" the boy asked nervously, afraid of offending him. Zane’s tone was commanding.

"Take off your mask," Zane ordered, his voice unchanging.

"What?" the boy gaped, bewildered.

If everyone thought he was wearing the lion mask, then he wouldn’t wear it. Instead, Zane returned to the ball wearing a cat mask—not as regal as a lion, but it suited his purpose. At least now no one would bother him, and he could attend the party as promised to Arlo.

Coincidentally, Clara also wore a cat mask. She stood in a corner by a table near the back of the hall, observing the grand scene around her. The sight was overwhelming, with everyone dressed exquisitely for the ball. Clara sat down, clasping her hands nervously. Music began to play, followed by an announcement over the loudspeaker: the official dance had started. People eagerly paired off for the first dance.

Many girls flocked toward the person wearing the lion mask, assuming he was Zane.

Zane surveyed the scene, noting the crowd of girls surrounding his decoy. He smirked. It seemed no one had noticed he’d switched masks—not even the members of his club. As for the poor soul who would either benefit or suffer from this, only time would tell.