The maid's fearful gaze was still locked onto me, her every movement weighed down by an unease that hung thick in the air. The rush of energy, the raw adrenaline that had momentarily driven me, was now draining away—fading into a deep, all-consuming exhaustion that made my limbs feel like lead. My body, once eager to move, was now just a heavy shell, uncooperative and fragile.
I tried to steady myself, but my legs betrayed me. One moment they held me, the next, they crumpled beneath me, and the cold, unforgiving floor was the only thing that greeted me as I collapsed. My body sprawled out, limp and unresponsive, as if all strength had abandoned me at once. I lay there, face pressed against the floor, unable to move a muscle. My limbs felt like they had lost all their energy, every movement a struggle I couldn't win.
The air felt thick in my lungs, suffocating almost. I had pushed myself too far, too fast—my body wasn't ready to face the reality of being awake, not after two months in a coma. I felt broken in ways I hadn't expected. Weak. Vulnerable.
"Please, my lady…" The maid's voice trembled, barely breaking through the fog that clouded my mind. "You must stay in bed. Your body… it's too weak—"
I knew. I could feel it—my body was like glass, fragile and on the verge of shattering at the slightest touch. Still, I couldn't bring myself to care. There was no strength left to fight, no energy to pretend I could do anything but succumb to the exhaustion creeping in.
My eyelids fluttered, heavy, and the world around me blurred. For a moment, I thought I was slipping back into unconsciousness, but this time, it was different. The weight of everything—the strange, terrifying reality that had unfolded before me—pressed in on me. I didn't know where I was or who I was supposed to be, but none of it mattered. I wanted to close my eyes, to let go of the tension in my mind and body, to just rest.
But rest… wasn't that what I had been doing all this time?
The maid, still hovered near me, helping me up. Her footsteps, once so clear and distant, were now muffled, like I was drifting further away from everything. Her words became a soft murmur as my mind slipped into a haze, her presence only a faint impression in the back of my thoughts.
"Rest…" A man's voice suddenly came—I've heard this voice before, I just couldn't precisely tell when and where. "Just rest…"
I finally let go. Let the darkness pull me under once more, not into the depthless void of a coma, but into the slow, consuming rest that my body demanded.
Slowly.
A breath.
Then—silence.
When I wake again, it's already a new day, the room felt somehow different, yet familiar. Like a dream I couldn't fully recall. My eyelids fluttered open, and I saw the maid standing beside me. Her face, as pale as ever.
I blinked, unsure if I was still dreaming.
"So..." still laying down, I started. "It's just the two of us now. Can you sing for me? Please?" This time I tried to sound polite and calm.
Really? Was that the first thing that came out of my mouth? I couldn't believe myself. But still, I pressed on.
I had promised myself that the first person I'd thank upon waking was the one who had kept me company during my coma. The one whose off-key songs had somehow been my only comfort. Her voice had brought me solace in those long, silent days. Even if she didn't know it.
She hesitated. Her eyes flickered nervously to the floor, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of doubt. She wasn't sure. But something in her seemed resigned. It was as if she knew better than to refuse me, or maybe she couldn't find the courage to. Either way, she eventually complied, her voice barely a whisper at first.
"T-this poor soul... should d-die and bend... for you are my g-greatest owner... I owe my l-life to you..."
She sang through sobs.
I winced.
What in the world was this song? Morbid… depressing… yet somehow, there she was, pouring her heart into it. I had been right—it was her. The one who had sung to me during my sleep. But before I could process it fully, she threw herself onto the floor, her knees hitting the stone with a loud thud. She bowed so deeply that her forehead nearly touched the ground, her body trembling in what I could only describe as terror.
"Y-you told me before, my lady, that I should never l-let you hear such an embarrassing v-voice again..." Her words cracked under the weight of her fear. "I will accept any p-punishment you see fit, my lady."
I froze.
"What? I never said anything like that!"
Slowly, I pushed myself up from the bed, my body still weak and unsteady. With effort, I bent down and took her hands in mine, lifting her gently to her feet. But she didn't relax. She remained rigid, her body tense, as if every motion I made might provoke her—like I was a threat she was waiting to trigger.
"And could you please… stop calling me 'my lady'?" I asked, "It's really not necessary."
Her eyes widened in shock, as if I had just asked her to do something unspeakable.
"How could I possibly do that, my lady?!" Her voice was almost desperate, but she complied, reluctantly standing back up.
I watched her carefully. Her face was pale, her hands still trembling. I could feel my guilt gnawing at me. I hadn't meant to make her this scared. The trembling, the hesitation—it made me feel like a monster. But she couldn't see it. She couldn't possibly see that I only wanted to thank her, not hurt her.
"What's your name?" I asked gently.
"M-Maya, my lady."
"That's a nice name." I smiled at her, but the moment I did, her expression only grew more anxious.
Okay, maybe smiling freaks her out. Got it.
Is my smile terrifying?
I sighed, the tension in my chest tightening. "You know, Maya, I really wanted to thank you. You might not realize it, but while I was asleep, I was actually conscious."
I softened my tone as much as I could, hoping she would understand.
"You were always there, keeping me company when I was alone. Your songs made me smile every day. Did you know that?"
Her eyes widened, and she looked away, unable to meet my gaze. "T-this lowly servant never imagined she could bring you joy, my lady…"
Ah! Her crying finally stopped.
I laughed, despite the guilt that churned in my stomach. "Well, you did. And I'm thankful."
I squeezed her hands, my gesture as reassuring as I could make it.
"Thank you."
Her shaking hadn't completely stopped, but she was looking at me now. I could see the confusion in her eyes, mingled with something else—disbelief. It was almost as if she didn't know what to make of the gratitude I was offering.
"I d-don't know, my lady... b-but... I'm happy..." she stammered, her voice still quivering.
"Good!" I said, releasing her hands with a soft sigh of relief.
I walked over to the bed, sitting down slowly, and finally took a proper look around. The room was absurdly grand—a noble's bedroom, no doubt. Everything about it screamed luxury, from the enormous bed to the ornate furniture.
I exhaled, my mind racing. This was the kind of place I used to describe in my stories, the kind I had spent hours imagining.
And now I was here. Living it. But I wasn't sure what to do with it yet.
The story had only just begun.