Ash jumped, his heart leaping into his throat. He spun around, eyes wide, meeting the curious gaze of a maid who stood in the doorway.
"You're finally awake," she said, raising a brow at him.
Ash stared at her, unable to say a word. There was something familiar about the maid, but nothing immediately clicked. He cursed inwardly.
I should know who she is, right?
"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, stepping into the room. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scrutinized him, like she was searching for something. "You… well, you caused quite a stir yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Ash stammered. "What do you mean?"
The maid crossed her arms. "You don't remember? You practically invaded Lady Genevieve's personal space. Everyone was talking about it." She tilted her head, clearly finding his confusion strange. "Are you... sure you're alright? You've been acting strange since your accident."
Ash's pulse quickened. What should I do?
The realization struck him hard—this maid, she knew him. Or rather, she knew the boy whose body he now inhabited. That meant she likely expected a certain behavior from him.
The maid let out a sigh. "You know our position, don't you?" She gave him a half-smile, but there was a sharp edge to it. "We can't afford to offend the masters. You'd better learn some self-control before the young lady sends your head flying."
Ash's mind raced. What was the best course of action from here? Should he feign amnesia? No, he thought. If he wanted to find out the secrets of his transmigration, the best thing he could do now was gather as much information as possible.
And that meant his best bet was sticking close to Genevieve. Even if she was a future threat, her power and influence would keep him safe from lesser dangers. If he played his cards right, maybe he could even mitigate the worst of her villainous turn.
As the maid began to take the tub of water beside him, Ash's mouth opened before his brain could catch up, and a name slipped out. "Catherine?"
The maid stared at him dumbfoundedly. "...What?" She blinked, the sharpness in her gaze softening for a moment.
Ash froze. He hadn't meant to say that. But the name had popped into his mind so naturally. Was that a memory from the boy whose body I'm in?
He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. "Uh, what... when is the Lady planning to depart?"
Catherine, or rather the maid named Catherine, frowned at him again, though this time less suspiciously. "Well, she planned to go as soon as the storm subsides, but..." she paused, her voice continuing in a whisper, "...did you really think she would take you along, after what you did?"
Ash was instantly struck by her words. Cold sweat formed at the nape of his neck.
Seeing his reaction, Catherine laughed out loud. "Don't worry, you were lucky this time. Aligor used your accident to give you an excuse not to punish you." She stepped back toward the door, giving him one last, unreadable look. "I would have backed you up too if I wasn't busy... But, you should still offer her something as an apology."
As she began to leave, Ash quickly asked her what he could use. "Wait! Like what?"
"I don't know, maybe an Alaea's shard?" She giggled, her back slowly becoming smaller. "If you don't, she might really leave you behind!"
Watching her disappear, tension ebbed slowly from his shoulders. How the hell was he supposed to get a magic shard?
He wasn't in a good position at all. He was a simple butler who didn't have any political, social, physical, or monetary power. Not to mention that he was a commoner who had no mana at all.
But as he sighed, deflating like a balloon onto the floor, he realized one key thing.
Right, he thought. This was still the world of Royal Affections, even if it was a new reality.
But the rules... they were the same, weren't they? He had cleared this game more than ten times before. If the core mechanics still applied, he didn't need to panic. He just had to treat it like another playthrough—an insane, immersive, and high-stakes playthrough, sure, but one he knew how to win.
"I'll clear it," Ash whispered, clenching his fists. "Just like I always do."