I walked up from the basement, and Adam followed behind me.
As we walked outside, the stares of the servants greeted me, but their eyes weren't fixed on me. They were looking at something behind me.
When Adam stepped outside, their stares scanned him from head to toe. I kind of knew what they were thinking.
This was the first time I had met the servants of this house—cleaned clothes, neatly set hair, faces devoid of emotion, and eyes that seemed lifeless.
I walked toward the dining table, a seemingly endless table filled with food I had never seen before. If they cook so much every day, why am I only served salad? And what do they do with the rest of the food?
I picked up a knife and fork, and my body instinctively knew how to use them. It had happened before. When I unlocked the secret cabinet in her room, my fingers traced the password without a second thought.
I was still lost in my thoughts when a cheerful voice broke through, "Mama, look at this!"
My heart stopped as my head turned toward the voice.
The room fell silent as the servants' faces paled. A small boy stood there, holding two glasses in one hand, like a stunt, smiling brightly.
I was still staring at him when one of the older servants rushed over, took the glasses, and shielded him with her frail body.
"So… sorry, Milady. I really didn't mean it… he made a mistake. I'll make sure he never appears in front of you again," she stammered, clutching him protectively against her chest.
I was about to respond when another maid stepped forward and placed a salad in front of me. "Pl-please eat, Milady."
I looked back at the old woman, who was now walking away with the boy while whispering something to him. My gaze then shifted to the bowl of salad, arranged like a painting, and the endless dishes spread across the table. Were they torturing me?
"Well," I said, pushing back my chair. I walked toward the dishes with a plate, filling it like I hadn't eaten in a thousand years, and sat back down.
The servants stared at me, jaws dropped, as I finished every bite. Finally, some peace.
The old woman, who I now saw was wearing a name tag labeled "Miranda," stood beside me with her eyes gracefully lowered.
"Miss Miranda," I called.
Her eyes snapped up. "Y-yes?" The other servants exchanged questioning glances.
She cleared her throat. "How can I help you, Milady?"
"Provide me with a list of the names of all the maids and other Servants including their responsibilities. I want the report by tomorrow."
"Yes, Milady."
As I stood and walked toward the stairs, the sound of a plate shattering echoed through the room.
I turned back to see Miranda instructing the maids to throw the dishes into the trash.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
Miranda bowed. "I'm so sorry for disturbing you."
"I'm not talking about that. Why are you throwing the food away?"
Again, they exchanged uneasy glances. "I'm doing as you've always ordered, Milady," she answered.
I couldn't believe it. Did the previous owner of this body think she was so rich that she could throw away leftovers? And if that's what she wanted, why cook so much in the first place?
"Eat it," I said, my voice cold as I crossed my arms over my chest, making sure I don't walk out of my set character "I'll stay and watch. Finish everything on the table."
The room fell silent until a maid hesitantly took a plate and sat on the floor.
"Don't waste time. Sit at the table and be quick about it," I commanded.
The shock was evident on their faces, but soon, more servants joined in. At first, they were reluctant, but as the flavors hit their tongues, they began to eat hungrily.
The once-lonesome dining table turned into a grand feast.
A smile played on my lips as I quietly left and returned to my room.
***
I lay on the bed, staring at the chandelier on the ceiling. Turning my head, my eyes caught my reflection in the mirror.
I stood close to the mirror as memories of the boy flooded my mind.
That child had the same blue eyes as mine, the same facial structure, and even the mole under his left eye. Everything matched. But he didn't call me "Mama." He called Miranda "Mama." Why?
Lost in thought, a knock at the door pulled me back to reality.
"Who is it?" I asked. Was it Richard? But hadn't he said he wouldn't come today?
"It's me, Milady," a familiar deep voice answered—Adam.
"Come in," I said.
Adam entered, his head lowered.
"Can I eat? Pl-please, I'm very hungry," he pleaded, almost like a child.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Noth…" In the blink of an eye, he dropped to his knees. "Please… please."
"Come here," I gestured.
For a moment, he hesitated but then stood and walked toward me.
Just as I was about to tell him to sit on the bed, he knelt down by my knees. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, and his stomach let out a loud growl.
My eyes widened as he muttered, "So… so sorry."
A chuckle escaped my lips. "Sit here," I said, patting the bed.
At this point, I shouldn't be surprised by anything strange—not after seeing a bloody basement, servants with hollow stares, and a man who likely hadn't eaten for days. Could anything else shock me?
I rang the bell by my bed, and a few maids came running.
"Bring me some proper dishes," I ordered.
"So, Adam," I began, staring at the ceiling, "did you know this world is full of people with all kinds of desires?"
"Desires?" he echoed, his deep voice quieter. "What are desires?"
"Oh, man!" I chuckled. "If you don't know about them, that's good because they're kind of a bad thing."
"Bad?"
"Well, not always. They can be good." My own desire had always been simple: to live a good life without worrying about my next meal.
"And the bad ones?" Adam leaned closer, his face above mine, his piercing eyes locking onto mine.
Startled, I jolted upright, turning my back to him. "The bad ones shouldn't be explored casually. The devil is always listening. You won't even realize when those desires take over."
"Dangerous," he murmured, almost to himself.
"Yes! Exactly, they're dangerous."