Note: pls if I'm writing too much details, pls tell me
"Uhhhhh," Damian groaned, the sound of pain escaping his lips as he slowly woke from his slumber. His body ached with every movement, each breath a reminder of his suffering.
As he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Confusion and discomfort washed over him. 'Where am I?' he thought, his mind struggling to piece together the fragments of his memory. The unfamiliar surroundings only deepened his sense of unease, amplifying the pain that coursed through his body.
Damian attempted to shift his body but found even the slightest movement uncomfortable. Glancing down, he realized he was completely swathed in bandages. His eyes wandered around the room, taking in his surroundings.
He was in a luxurious room, the kind you'd see in a high-end hotel. The walls were adorned with elegant artwork, and the soft lighting created a warm, inviting atmosphere. Plush, velvet curtains framed the large windows, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The bed he lay on was enormous, with silky sheets and an abundance of fluffy pillows that promised the utmost comfort.
Beside him, on a polished wooden nightstand, sat a tray with a steaming pot of tea, a delicate porcelain cup, and a small dish of honey. The aroma of the tea wafted through the air, adding a touch of coziness to the exquisite setting.
'"What am I thinking? This isn't the time to get cozy," Damian thought, shaking off the momentary comfort. "I need to find out where I am."
Determined, he pushed through the pain and slowly sat up, ignoring the inviting tea set beside him. With a deep breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, albeit unsteadily. Each step was a challenge, but he made his way to the door.
As he stepped into the hallway, he was struck by its grandeur. The design was even more exquisite than the room he had just left. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow. The walls were lined with intricate designs and gilded mirrors, reflecting the opulence of the space.
"That does it," Damian muttered to himself, taking in the lavish surroundings. "Whoever owns this place must be a king or someone of noble status." He couldn't help but marvel at the sheer luxury, even as he reminded himself of the urgency of his situation.
"Now…" Damian whispered, his voice trembling. "Time to get out of this hellhole. Before they find out I'm awake."
He took a step forward, but a wave of dizziness crashed over him. The floor seemed to split beneath his feet, the walls twisted and spun around him. His vision blurred, and the room became a chaotic whirlpool of colors and shapes.
Before he knew it, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, the darkness swallowing him whole.
Hours later...
Damian's eyes fluttered open, his vision slowly coming into focus. The familiar sight of the luxurious room greeted him once more. He was back on the same bed, the silky sheets cool against his skin. The soft lighting cast gentle shadows on the walls, and the elegant artwork seemed to watch over him.
He tried to move, but his body felt heavy and uncooperative. The bandages still wrapped him tightly, a stark reminder of his fragile state. The aroma of the tea beside him was still present, mingling with the faint scent of lavender from the plush pillows.
As he lay there, a sense of dread washed over him. How long had he been unconscious? And who had brought him back to this room? His mind raced with questions, but his body refused to cooperate. He could only lie there, staring at the ornate ceiling, feeling a mix of frustration and fear.
""Oh, you're finally awake, sir," came a voice, smooth and composed. Damian turned his head towards the sound, trying to mask the fear that gnawed at him with a calm expression.
Standing at the edge of the bed was a man who appeared to be a butler. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, complete with a crisp white shirt and a perfectly knotted tie. His posture was straight and dignified, exuding an air of professionalism. The butler's face was lined with age, yet his eyes were sharp and observant, taking in every detail of Damian's condition. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and he carried an aura of quiet authority.
"How are you feeling, sir?" the butler asked, his voice gentle yet firm, as if he had seen many such situations before and knew exactly how to handle them.
"There's no need to be scared, I assure you that you are in capable hands" the butler said but received no response.
"If there's anything you'll like to ask, pls go ahead and asked me" the butler tried again and it worked.
"There's no need to be scared, sir. I assure you, you are in capable hands," the butler said, his voice calm and reassuring. Damian remained silent, his mind racing with questions and fears.
"If there's anything you'd like to ask, please go ahead," the butler prompted again, his tone gentle yet persistent.
"Where am I?" Damian finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You are in the residence of Lord Ashford in the kingdom of Aranthia," the butler replied.
"You were found injured in a devastated area and brought here for treatment. My name is Alfred, and I am here to assist you with anything you might need."
"How long have I been here" Damian asked
"Due to the severity of your injuries, you were unconscious for nearly a whole week even with the best healers the kingdom could offer"
Hearing this, Damian stayed silent.
"If you need me just give a call and I'll be right here" Alfred said as he took his leave.
After Alfred took his leave, Damian sat there, his mind bustling with thoughts on what happened that day.
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Back to Alfred
After leaving Damian's room, Alfred walked down a dimly lit corridor. The path was simple and unadorned, a stark contrast to the opulence of the main hallways. The walls were plain, and the floor was covered with a worn, yet clean, carpet. The air was cooler here, carrying a faint scent of old wood and stone.
Alfred moved with purpose, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet passage. He turned a corner and approached an unmarked, heavy wooden door. It was plain and unassuming, almost blending into the wall.
"Knock, knock," Alfred tapped on the door gently.
"Come in," a coarse voice replied from the other side.
With a practiced hand, Alfred produced a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room beyond. Inside, the room was sparsely furnished, with only a few pieces of functional furniture.
Sitting at a table, facing forward, was an unknown figure. The figure turned slightly as Alfred entered, their features obscured by the dim light.
"He's awake," Alfred reported, his voice steady but tinged with concern.
The figure nodded, a gesture barely visible in the gloom. "Good. I'll see him soon," came the reply, the voice low and enigmatic.
"You don't need to, sire. In your condition, it would be dangerous to see him. What if he tries something?" Alfred asked, his tone worried.
"Don't worry. If he were to try something, I'm sure you would be there to protect me," the figure said calmly.
"But—" Alfred began, but stopped himself. "Yes, of course," he conceded.
Alfred bowed slightly and stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. His mind was heavy with worry as he made his way back through the dim corridor.