Meanwhile, Leon's maid was running quickly toward the mansion, this time choosing a different path—a straight route leading directly to the estate. While running, she came across a stretch of wild land and stopped. A sudden gust of wind swept across the grassy area under the dim moonlight. The maid waited for a few moments, but when nothing happened, she ignored it and continued running. With each passing second, a drop of blood fell from Siara's wounded head; healing her was the supreme priority for Leon's saint-like maid. She pressed onward toward the mansion.
After reaching the estate nestled in the forest, she carried Siara to her room—at least, the room she had been allotted earlier—and laid her gently on the bed.
Meanwhile, Siara, who had been continuously feeling the pull of an unseen gravity, experienced a sudden shiver.
Observers voices echoed through the dark void where she was falling:
"She is waking!"
"I don't see her soul fluctuating."
"Can't you just believe what I say?"
Siara couldn't hear those echoing voices. The next moment, something entirely unexpected happened: her body began to dissipate. Slowly, she disintegrated into dust and particles, vanishing completely.
Just before her head was about to dissolve into grains as well, she let out a desperate, echoing wail.
"Wait, nooo!"
--------------------------------------------------------
"Nooo!"
Siara woke up on her bed, screaming. She immediately felt a mild sting and something cool on her head—her injury had been properly cleaned and bandaged. Confused, she looked around the room. Instead of clearing, her confusion only deepened. First, she was startled to realize she was inside the exact same room where she had been before going to dinner. Second, she noticed her clothes had been changed. She clearly remembered wearing a blue dress, but now she wore a simpler black one-piece—less glamorous than her previous outfit, but noticeably more comfortable.
She tried to rationalize the circumstances, but couldn't think of any valid reason why someone would change her clothes. Yet she didn't dwell on it for long; heavier thoughts quickly crowded in. Memories she had never expected to return after entering a whole new world crashed over her. Her face paled, and a deep sorrow took hold. Her black and bluish bangs fell across her face, obscuring half her features—and hiding her eyes. She felt as though she might break, but she forced herself not to yield, remembering the fierce resolve she had forged the moment she decided to step off the starry floor into nothingness.
A soft creak broke the silence. When she looked toward the door, it began to open.
A glamorous, beautiful lady with jade-like skin, coal-black eyelines, and a standard black-and-white maid outfit stepped into the room.
Siara was instantly mesmerized. Even her weary blue eyes seemed to revive under the woman's spell. One moment she had been on the verge of despair, and the next, the mere presence of this lady swept away all her gloom.
She couldn't tear her eyes away, momentarily forgetting all about those painful memories. The woman looked like a true saintess descended right before her eyes. But the moment Siara locked eyes with her, the spell shattered. Those eyes weren't mesmerizing like the rest of her; they were terrifying.
Snapped out of her trance by that chilling gaze, Siara watched as the maid placed a note on the bed and began organizing the room.
Confused once more, Siara picked up the note. The handwriting was completely unfamiliar. Finding she couldn't make out a single word, she felt a flicker of disappointment, held the note out toward the glamorous lady, and said, "Sorry, miss, but I can't understand a single word here."
The glamorous lady—who was indeed performing her duties for Leon—paused, turned toward Siara, and walked over. She knelt with one knee on the mattress and leaned in close. Siara blushed instantly, growing awkward, though she neither dared nor wanted to pull away. Her cheeks flushed a deep red.
The maid stopped just a finger's length away from her face, took Siara's right hand, and pricked her index finger. Caught up in her embarrassment, Siara didn't even register what was happening until a sharp sting bloomed across her skin. The maid pressed the bleeding fingertip against the paper note, tracing a symbol that Siara felt she somehow recognized.
Once the symbol was complete, the lady stepped back, lowered her leg from the bed, and quietly resumed tidying the room.
Siara stared at the note, hoping to catch another glimpse of the familiar symbol, but she was immediately astonished. She reminded herself that strange things happened in other worlds—and she was, after all, in another world.
When she looked back down at the paper, the symbol the maid had drawn was gone. In its place, the alien script began to shift and reform until it settled into legible English. A wave of relief washed over her; at least she could read it. The sight of the changing text pushed the strange symbol completely out of her mind.
Note:
[Some unexpected events occurred after you ran away, but everything is sorted now. You have been saved by the kind and cruel merchant. I've already dressed your wounds, so they shouldn't bother you anymore. Additionally, your dress was changed because the previous one was torn. You can stay here as long as you like, though eventually, you will need to leave—perhaps alone.]
~Sylvia
Siara felt a wave of relief upon learning why her clothes had been changed. Though she hadn't been overly anxious about it—having briefly suspected Leon, yet refusing to let her mind dwell on such a speculation, almost as if she were subconsciously trying to drown herself in sorrow—she was glad to know a girl named Sylvia had changed her, and for a valid reason at that. She had never truly minded; the current dress offered far superior comfort anyway.
Siara laid the note down and looked toward the glamorous lady, who must have been Sylvia. Sylvia had already finished tidying up and had gathered a small pile of belongings—several stacked books, wooden dolls, and a few carved wooden items—which she carried out of the room.
Once she was alone, Siara climbed out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Leon had returned to the mansion alongside the old dwarf, instructing him to prepare everything before his departure.
Leon still wore his black outfit patterned with flames, though the flames remained unlit—perhaps because dawn was only a few hours away and the moonlight no longer touched him.
Growing concerned, the old dwarf asked, "Raven... are we going back now?"
Leon flashed an annoyed look at first, but seeing the dwarf's somber tone, his expression softened. A peculiar sense of empathy for the old man always lingered beneath his rough exterior.
Leon stepped into the pedestal hall. But instead of the familiar wooden, church-like interior with a simple podium, the room had transformed. It was now a hall of polished jade, anchored by a magnificent, patterned iron throne.
Yet, this flawless, beautiful scenery bore a violent blemish: a massive glass chandelier lay shattered across the floor, its cracked crystals scattered in heaps. Spilled wax had ruined the patterned carpet beneath, staining the floor in a chaotic mess.