*The circus has arrived in town, a proclamation that elicits both wonder and intrigue from the young while provoking disdain among the adults. They are labeled **freaks**—curiosities that defy the conventional worldview of the 20th century, better kept out of the public eye.*

“Where on earth is the bank’s new headquarters?” *Beatrice mutters, her impatience palpable as she seeks the location to cash her cheque. The gazes of passersby weigh upon her, igniting a smirk on her lips. She can almost feel their envy radiating toward her. After all, it is their own misfortune to have been born wretched and destitute. At least the street rats are fortunate enough to revel in her beauty and refinement for a fleeting moment.*

*Flawless, astute, and born into a life of privilege, Beatrice has enjoyed the advantages of her affluent upbringing. She has just finalized a remarkable real estate deal, surely an accomplishment that would garner her father’s admiration. It would make him proud. He shower her with praise... right?*

*Beatrice halts abruptly. Nearby, a throng gathers outside a grand tent. That confounded circus. An undeniable curiosity tugs at her—a temptation to peer inside. **DISGUSTING**. These so-called freaks ought to be confined, she thinks, her irritation boiling at their carefree antics and joyous songs, as if they take pride in their perceived deviance. Her gaze drifts over the performers: a man as pale as snow, a towering woman effortlessly lifting three men, and another woman who barely reaches her knee. A man contorts his limbs in a grotesque manner, and—*

*Beatrice's eyes widen, as though she has glimpsed the vast expanse of a starry sky for the very first time. Suspended in midair... an angel? She can discern no strings. The girl twirls gracefully, as if the very air cradles her. White, ethereal wings shimmer on her back, but what captivates Beatrice most is her radiant, enchanting smile.*

***Who is this girl?** Beatrice has to find out.*