Chapter Three
The Young Miss
I needed answers.
That was the only thought keeping me from panicking.
I pushed the blanket aside and slowly stood.
One step.
That was all I managed.
Pain shot through my ankle, and my legs gave way beneath me.
"Agh!"
I hit the floor.
I clenched my teeth and grabbed my ankle.
"Argh… it hurts so much."
"I'm coming in, Young Miss!"
A woman's voice came from the other side of the door.
Before I could respond, it opened.
A young woman hurried inside.
She wore a neat maid's uniform, her hair perfectly arranged, not a single strand out of place.
She looked—
Beautiful.
Like, unfairly beautiful.
For a second, I almost forgot about my ankle.
Seriously?
I was injured, confused, possibly kidnapped, and somehow I was still capable of getting jealous of another girl's beauty.
Life was unbelievable.
She rushed toward me.
"Are you hurt?"
"I think my ankle is—"
She didn't let me finish.
She carefully helped me back onto the bed before disappearing through one of the doors I hadn't noticed earlier.
A few seconds later, she returned with a first-aid box.
She knelt beside me and began examining my ankle.
Her expression became serious.
I watched her work quietly.
She was careful.
Precise.
Almost too professional.
"Thank you," I finally whispered.
"You're welcome, Miss."
I waited.
Surely she was going to introduce herself.
She didn't.
She simply continued treating my ankle.
The silence stretched.
And stretched.
Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm Bella."
She glanced at me.
"It's nice to meet you…"
"Joel."
"Huh?"
"My name is Joel."
"Oh."
I smiled slightly.
"It's nice to meet you, Joel."
She nodded and continued working.
For some reason, the name suited her.
"Can you tell me where I am?"
Her hands stopped.
Only for a second.
Then she continued.
"I can't tell you anything for now."
"Why?"
"I'm not supposed to speak to you."
I frowned.
"What?"
She stood.
"It's against the rules."
"What rules?"
She looked at me.
For the first time, I noticed something strange in her expression.
Hesitation.
Fear?
Before I could figure it out, she looked away.
"I'm sorry, Miss."
"Please, stop calling me that."
She blinked.
"You can call me Bella."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"It's against the rules."
I stared at her.
These people and their rules.
"Fine," I sighed. "At least let me call you Joel."
A tiny smile appeared on her face.
"Of course, Miss."
I smiled back.
"See you later, Joel."
"Goodbye, Miss."
She left.
I leaned back against the bed and released a breath.
I had more questions than answers.
And apparently, asking them wasn't going to help.
A few minutes later, the door opened again.
Joel stood there.
"Sorry to interrupt, Miss. Breakfast is ready."
"Breakfast?"
"The young master is waiting downstairs."
My eyebrows lifted.
The young master.
So there was actually a young master.
"Okay. Thanks."
Joel nodded.
"Please get dressed and come downstairs."
She left.
I stared at the collection of doors around my room.
There had to be a wardrobe somewhere.
After opening the wrong door twice, I finally found it.
A walk-in wardrobe.
I stared at it.
"Okay…"
Apparently, kidnapping victims got luxury treatment now.
I quickly picked an outfit and got dressed.
The bathroom was almost ridiculous in size. Calling it a bathroom felt unfair when it was practically a private spa.
Still, I didn't have time to admire it.
I needed answers.
I left my room.
The moment I stepped into the corridor, I stopped.
It was dark.
Long.
And strangely repetitive.
Every section looked almost identical to the one before it.
Same walls.
Same patterns.
Same lights.
I walked for what felt like forever.
At one point, I stopped and looked behind me.
Nothing.
Did I just walk past here?
I frowned.
Eventually, the corridor opened into a staircase.
Finally.
I followed it down.
And then—
Light.
I stepped onto the last stair and looked up.
My mouth fell open.
The living room looked like something straight out of a fairytale castle.
A magnificent chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its crystals catching the light and scattering golden reflections across the polished marble floor. Tall windows were covered by flowing curtains, while elegant sofas and intricately carved furniture filled the enormous room.
Everything was grand.
But somehow, it wasn't cold.
There were delicate details everywhere—flowers, soft fabrics, graceful decorations—giving the room an almost dreamlike warmth.
I slowly descended the staircase.
Who actually lives here?
I looked around.
Then I noticed something.
A pair of enormous doors stood slightly open at the far end of the room.
Curiosity tugged at me.
I should have ignored it.
Instead, I walked toward them.
I peeked inside.
My mouth fell open again.
It was another enormous room.
A dining hall.
Except it looked like it could become a ballroom with barely any effort.
A long dining table stretched across the centre, surrounded by elegant chairs. Another chandelier hung overhead, while delicate floral arrangements decorated the room.
Tall windows allowed soft daylight to spill across the polished floor.
It was beautiful.
Almost too beautiful.
I took another step.
Then stopped.
Wait.
I glanced around.
Why was I wandering around somebody else's house?
I suddenly felt like a thief.
A very badly disguised thief.
Except I wasn't stealing anything.
I was just…
Exploring.
"Bella," I whispered to myself, "what exactly are you doing?"
I had been brought here without my permission.
I didn't know where I was.
I didn't know who owned this place.
And instead of staying in the room where I'd woken up, I was wandering around the mansion like a tourist.
I took a step backward.
Okay.
Enough sightseeing.
I needed answers.
I turned—
Then something caught my eye.
A figure.
At the far end of the dining hall.
Someone was sitting at the head of the table.
Still.
Motionless.
His body was partially hidden in the shadows.
I froze.
The young master?
I should have left.
I knew that.
Every sensible thought in my head was telling me to turn around.
Unfortunately, curiosity had apparently taken control of my legs.
I took one step forward.
Then another.
The figure remained completely still.
The closer I got, the more I could make out his silhouette.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Dark clothing.
But his face remained hidden.
My heartbeat quickened.
Could it be him?
The stranger from last night?
I swallowed.
Then I stepped into the dining hall.
And immediately—
Movement.
A maid emerged from one of the side entrances.
Then another.
Then another.
Within seconds, women dressed in identical maid uniforms appeared from seemingly every corner of the room.
I stumbled backward.
"What the—?"
Where had they all come from?
They moved past me without saying a word.
Then, as though controlled by the same invisible command, they stopped.
Every single one of them turned toward me.
And together, they bent forward at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
"Good morning, Young Miss."
I froze.
My mouth fell open.
They straightened.
And continued working.
One placed plates on the table.
Another arranged the cutlery.
Another adjusted the chairs.
Another carefully positioned flowers in the centre of the table.
They moved with such precise coordination that it was almost unsettling.
I looked from one maid to another.
Nobody seemed surprised to see me.
Nobody asked who I was.
Nobody questioned why I was standing there.
They simply carried on as though my presence was expected.
My gaze slowly returned to the figure at the head of the table.
Still there.
Still silent.
Still hidden in the shadows.
I couldn't see his face.
I couldn't read his expression.
But somehow, I could feel his presence.
My stomach tightened.
Was this the man who saved me?
I took one more step.
He didn't move.
The room seemed to grow quieter.
Even the soft clinking of plates suddenly sounded distant.
I stared at the stranger.
He stared back.
At least…
I thought he did.
I didn't know his name.
I didn't know why he'd saved me.
I didn't know why I was in his house.
And I certainly didn't understand why an entire army of maids had just called me Young Miss.
But one thing was becoming painfully clear.
I had not simply walked into a house.
I had walked into a world where everyone seemed to know something about me—except me.
And somehow, I had a feeling the silent man sitting at the head of that table knew the most.