"Mom?" the boy asked again, his voice trembling with sadness.
"Mom?" Rebecca repeated, still in disbelief. She stared at the child in front of her, his small face wet with tears. He was holding onto her tightly, as if afraid she would disappear. But Rebecca didn't know what to say. Her mind was still spinning, trying to understand what had just happened.
"I'm sorry, Mom," the boy sobbed. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't run away from home… If I hadn't made you come here to play hide and seek... none of this would have happened."
His words made Rebecca's heart sink. Play hide and seek? What had she gotten into this time?
"They wouldn't have found us. They wouldn't have attacked us, and you wouldn't have gotten hurt," the boy cried, his voice full of guilt.
Rebecca looked at him, feeling a deep wave of pity for the child. His fear and sorrow were real, and he clung to her as though the weight of the world rested on his small shoulders. Unsure of what else to do, she awkwardly reached out and patted his head. The gesture was clumsy and uncertain, her hand moving in slow, hesitant strokes. She wasn't used to comforting anyone, let alone a child, but seeing him so scared and fragile, she couldn't just stand there.
"I just wanted to play," the boy whispered, his voice breaking. "I didn't know they would come. I thought we'd be safe…"
Rebecca's mind was still trying to catch up. Who were "they"? Who had attacked them? What had happened to this boy's real mother before Rebecca was thrown into this life? She didn't have the answers yet, but the boy needed her now.
Rebecca looked around and realized they were in a small cave. The air was cool and damp, with just a hint of the fading evening light outside. She noticed drag marks on the ground and it hit her—this young boy, so small, had dragged her here. His hands were dirty, covered in mud and scratches, his face streaked with tears and grime.
Outside, the sky was turning dark, the last bit of daylight slipping away. The forest beyond was thick, the trees casting long shadows. Both of them looked rough—clothes torn, covered in dirt and scratches. They had clearly escaped something terrible, but Rebecca couldn't yet piece it all together.
Rebecca's body felt heavy, every muscle aching with exhaustion. A deep weariness settled into her bones, making it hard to keep her eyes open. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation—where they were, what had happened—but the fog of fatigue blurred her thoughts.
She glanced at the boy, wanting to say something, to ask if they were safe or if the enemies he spoke of were still nearby. But before she could speak, her vision blurred, and everything went dark.
She fainted.
Rebecca woke up suddenly, her body jerking from the motion. As her eyes fluttered open, she felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. The rough movement beneath her told her she was on horseback. Confused, she blinked away the haze and saw herself seated in front of an old man on the horse.
Before she could even form a question, the old man spoke. His voice was calm and steady, as if he had been waiting for her to wake up. "We've reached home, madam," he said simply. Without another word, he climbed down and carefully carried her off the horse. Rebecca, still too weak to protest, remained silent as the old man led her into the mansion ahead.
The mansion was old, its age visible in every corner. As they passed through the grand doors, Rebecca felt a strange emptiness in the air, as if the house itself was hollow. She was taken to a room that was large and delicately decorated, its walls lined with fine curtains and ornate furniture. Yet, despite the room's beauty, there was a coldness to it, an absence that made it feel lonely and forgotten.
The old man laid her gently on the bed and stepped back. "This is your room, madam," he said. His tone was polite, but distant, as though he were following a routine, one that had been repeated countless times.
Rebecca tried to speak, her lips parting to form words, but nothing came out. Her throat felt dry, as if it hadn't had water in days. She struggled for a moment, her voice trapped by the dryness, and she coughed weakly, her body still too tired to do much else.
The old man, noticing her discomfort, moved without hesitation. He picked up a cup of warm water from the bedside table, which seemed to have been prepared in advance. Gently, he helped her sit up slightly and brought the cup to her lips.
"Drink, madam," he said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion.
Rebecca sipped the warm liquid, feeling the soothing heat slide down her throat. The warmth brought some relief, and she closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength.
After Rebecca had drunk enough water, the old man stood up with a quiet, deliberate movement. He placed the cup back on the table and glanced briefly at her before speaking.
"I must attend to the young master now," he said, his tone formal but detached. "If you need anything, call for me."
Without waiting for her response, he turned and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hall before she could utter a single word. Rebecca blinked, surprised by his abrupt departure. She hadn't even had a chance to thank him or ask anything.
The way he left, without seeking her permission or acknowledgment, stirred a sense of unease. Something about it felt off. The old man's rigid formality seemed almost like indifference, as though he was merely fulfilling an obligation rather than offering care.
Rebecca's mind raced. Was there something deeper here? Could it be that the previous soul—the one who had inhabited this body before her—had created some kind of rift between her and the old man? He appeared to be the butler of this strange mansion, but the coldness in his eyes suggested more than mere duty.
Why didn't he treat her with warmth, or at least with a proper respect?
Rebecca pushed the covers aside and attempted to sit up, her body still aching from the exhaustion. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, but as soon as she tried to stand, a wave of dizziness hit her hard. Her vision blurred, and her head spun as if the ground beneath her had shifted.
She reached out to steady herself, but it was too late. The room tilted, and before she could regain her balance, darkness crept over her vision.
With no strength left to resist, Rebecca's body collapsed back onto the bed, unconscious once again.