From early morning, busy voices moved without pause through the corridor. Layla lay there frowning with her eyes shut, tossing and turning a few times before slowly stretching her limbs and trying to shake off sleep. The room was pitch dark with no windows, making it impossible to tell day from night. She had no way of knowing the time, yet her eyes opened at this hour without fail, clock or no clock.

“Ugh…….”

She barely managed to drag her stiff body upright and perch on the edge of the bed. The iron frame creaked and swayed beneath her. Her thick, light-brown hair spilled forward over her bowed head and curtained her face. Her body ached all over, and a murmur slipped out on its own.

“I shouldn’t have helped…….”

The day before, she had noticed the crew struggling badly with too few hands to clean the underground storage and let it bother her enough to pitch in. Now her body was paying for it. How many times had she hauled those heavy porcelain pieces and busts all by herself, grunting under the weight?

Nobody would even notice, so why did she have to be so hopelessly meddlesome? She hadn’t done it expecting praise, but never once receiving so much as a thank-you still stung a little. She kept telling herself she would stop doing this, and yet here she was.

She kneaded and patted her shoulders, then laced her fingers together, stretched her arms straight out in front of her, and rolled her stiff neck a few times. She needed to get upstairs before the young lady’s waking hour.

Shortly after, Layla came out of the servants’ washroom across the hall, roughly toweling the water from her hair as she walked. The head maid had already come downstairs and was briskly driving the dawdling maids along.

“Move, move. Marie! Aren’t you on attendance duty for the young lady today? Get ready, now!”

At the head maid’s signal, the maids snapped to attention and scrambled about. In that sharp voice, her own name never came up. The quiet dismissal was something she had long grown used to. If anything, it meant fewer scoldings, which almost seemed like a blessing.

Still, the head maid’s fury had something about it that sent a chill down the spine even when it wasn’t directed at her. Without thinking, Layla hunched up just like the other maids and rushed to get ready. Back in her room, she stood before the mirror, gave the corners of her mouth a practiced lift, and did one last check of her appearance.

Marquis Devon’s household had a long history and had gone through so many expansions and renovations that it resembled a maze at first glance. Coming up from the servants’ quarters in the basement, Layla took in the full splendor and grandeur of the estate all at once.

The corridor just inside the entrance was lined with frescoes chronicling the history of the Devon marquisate. Every pillar of the manor bore beautiful carved reliefs trimmed in gold, and each of the sculptures adorning the estate was worth more than an ordinary imperial citizen could hope to see in a lifetime.

It was a magnificent space that dazzled the eyes no matter how many times she saw it. If Marquis Devon’s household looked like this, what on earth must the imperial palace be like? The question came to her every time, but with no way of ever setting foot inside the palace, she had no way of satisfying her curiosity either. So she kept wondering. Layla let the idle thought trail on as she walked briskly along.

A short while later, she came out carrying a tray loaded with washing water, balancing it precariously. Up the stairs was a long corridor leading to the central hall. She listened to the clatter of dishes from the kitchen on the far side and climbed the curved staircase quickly.

Not a soul hovered near the bedchamber of the marquis’s daughter, Helena Devon, as though no one dared disturb her sleep by even a breath. The corridor stretched all the way to the far end in perfect silence, and Layla crept through it with her nerves pulled tight. Nearing the bedchamber, she spotted the maid Marie approaching from the other direction, pushing a trolley.

“……Good morning, Marie.”

Layla deliberately made a little noise as she stepped closer and greeted the hollow-eyed Marie with care.

“Hm? Oh, it’s you, Layla. Good morning!”

Marie had been standing there looking utterly drained, her face pale, but she snapped her head up. She startled at Layla’s voice and glanced around for a moment before spotting her colleague and breaking into a bright smile.

“The young lady must still be asleep.”

“It seems so. She should be up by now.”

With the evening party to prepare for, this moment was probably the only chance left to enjoy breakfast at a leisurely pace. The young lady was naturally high-strung and tended to rise early, so the fact that she still hadn’t was puzzling. Layla and Marie exchanged a baffled look and moved toward the door.

Layla was about to knock when Marie glanced at the tray in her hands and spoke with a fearful expression.

“Did you check the temperature? It’s not too hot, is it?”

Marie leaned in close and whispered, looking very much like she wanted to stick a finger into the washbasin to check for herself.

“Yes. I also switched to a thin porcelain basin.”

She answered with a moment of silent mourning for Amy, who had taken a silver washbasin full in the face just the other morning and was still suffering for it. The porcelain would be dangerous too if it shattered, but it still beat walking away with a face full of bruises. Layla nodded and then asked Marie carefully as Marie let out a relieved breath.

“Marie. Did you also check…… the knife?”

“Of course I did. I picked one with a dull blade on purpose.”

Marie whispered with a grim look on her face. She shuddered, apparently thinking of Joanna, who had caught a flying knife with her hand two weeks ago and ended up with a gash across her palm. Satisfied that every preparation was in order, Layla matched her grim expression and knocked on the door.

“Good morning. We’re coming in, my lady.”

With that customary greeting, she carefully took hold of the door handle. The door swung open smoothly, and bright sunlight spilled through the gap. Layla spotted Helena lying motionless on the bed and swallowed hard against a surge of nerves.

“Lady Helena……?”

Layla tilted her head as she stepped slowly into the bedchamber with Marie. Given how easily the young lady startled, Layla had braced herself for a book or a comb or a pillow to come flying the moment she was woken, but Helena lay there still fast asleep, her glossy red-velvet hair spilling to one side.

Marie began sneaking glances at Layla and gave her a nudge. You wake her. Under that wordless pressure, Layla had no choice but to draw closer to the bed. She approached Helena, who lay buried in the plush blankets, and reached out a trembling hand to give the covers a light touch.

What should she say to wake her? Layla was in the middle of agonizing over this when she nearly screamed. She had no idea when it had happened, but a pair of deep navy eyes was staring blankly up at her.

“Y, you’re awake, my lady.”

“…….”

No answer came. Layla had expected those already sharp eyes to narrow further and a curse to come flying, but Helena simply sat up slowly and stared blankly at the washbasin.

“……Is this still a dream? A dream within a dream?”

Each flutter of those red lashes made the lightless navy eyes disappear and reappear. Helena looked Layla up and down, then let out a small scoff and muttered.

“Ha, is this the Middle Ages or what?”

“P, pardon?”

Layla’s tense reply seemed not to reach her. Helena furrowed her brow slightly and kept muttering to herself.

“Or maybe not. The Victorian era……? Ah, I don’t know.”

She scratched her glossy red hair into a tangle, then scrubbed at her sleep-heavy face with both palms and lay back down.

“My lady……?”

The behavior was unlike anything Layla had seen before, and every word out of her mouth was incomprehensible. Deep confusion bled into Layla’s voice as she called out, and Helena furrowed her brow as though the sound grated on her.

Layla shrank back and shot a glance at Marie. You do it. Once again caving to the silent pressure, Layla parted her lips with great care.

“Um, my lady. You really do need to get up now…….”

Her voice was almost on the verge of tears. Helena’s eyes flew open again. Something seemed to be wrong. She bolted upright and spun sharply to face Layla.