My head hurts; No—It's pounding.
I groan, shifting slightly, only to freeze as the world spins violently. The air smells… off. Bitter. Like alcohol.
Since when do I drink?
I force my eyes open. The ceiling above me isn't mine. The room isn't mine.
…Right.
I died.
I push myself up, ignoring the dizziness, and stumble toward the nearest mirror.
The face staring back at me isn't mine.
Dark circles. Messy hair. A faint flush across the cheeks.
Wonder.
The main antagonist. The one everyone hated.
The one framed, humiliated, and dragged through the mud by the crown prince.
The one whose crimes… Were never even proven.
"You have to be kidding."
Out of everyone–I had to become the main antagonist–the villain.
[Knock. Knock.]
"Young Master, may I come in?" A hesitant voice comes from the other side of the door.
I don't respond, I'm still looking at the mirror with dread.
"Young Master?"
"...Come in" I manage to blurt out.
The door opens slowly. A maid steps inside, her posture stiff, her gaze carefully lowered.
But not out of respect.
It feels more like she's avoiding looking at me entirely.
Her nose wrinkles, almost imperceptibly.
"...You've been drinking again, young master."
She sets a fresh set of clothes down without meeting my eyes.
"I've brought something appropriate for dinner."
I glance at her, then at the clothes in her hands.
No respect.
No warmth.
It's more like an... Obligation.
But under her cold eyes, it's an underlying look of pity. The quiet kind. The kind you give to someone who's already fallen too far to be helped.
...So that's how it is.
I look away first.
"Understood." I say, my voice steadier than I feel. I change quickly.
She nods with approval and steps closer to adjust my collar, her movements precise and practiced.
She doesn't say anything else.
And neither do I.
Whatever kind of person Wonder was—he clearly wasn't respected.
Not feared.
Not even hated enough to matter.
He was pitied. A pitiful man.
"Now come along, Young Master" the maid says softly, stepping back and gesturing towards the door.
I hesitate for only a moment... before following.
The hallway stretches out ahead of us, quiet and dimly lit.
Our footsteps echo faintly against the polished floor. As we walk, a few servants pass by.
Each one lowers their head—But not out of respect. They don't greet me. They don't speak. They just... move aside. Quickly. Like I'm something to avoid.
I glance at the maid walking slightly ahead of me.
She doesn't react.
Like this is normal.
"...Do I always get this kind of treatment?" I ask before I can stop myself.
The maid turns around.
She doesn't respond, she gives me a look filled with pity and turns right back around, continuing to walk towards a large set of doors.
She stops Infront of them, The maid turns slightly, her expression composed.
"The Master and Madam are already inside waiting for you."
She pushes the doors open. Warm light spills out into the hallway. I step into the dining hall.
The doors close behind me with a soft click.
Warm light, polished silverware, and the faint aroma of roasted meat fill the room—but it doesn't comfort me. Infact... It feels suffocating.
My parents sit at the head of the table, upright, perfect, their faces carefully composed.
And the moment I step in…
Their faces are filled with disappointment.
My mother's eyes flicker over me as if I were some minor inconvenience.
"You're... late" she says, carefully enunciating each word.
I swallow.
"I—" I start.
"Just sit." she interrupts softly, but her voice carries the weight of an unspoken judgment.
I obey. The chair squeaks under me as I sit, but she doesn't look away.
My father, already eating, glances up.
His fork pauses in mid-air.
"Drunk again?" His voice is calm but it's deadly.
"I...yes, father..." I admit reluctantly, the words tasting like ash.
My father's eyes sharpen. "Yes? Yes? Do you even realize what you have done?"
"I– I don't—"I start, but the words die in my throat. I haven't done anything. I don't even know what he's talking about.
"At the last ball," he continues, voice tight, his fists clenching, "you embarrassed us. You disgraced this house... in front of the crown prince! And your spending... All you do is spend!"
My brow furrows. "...Father, I...I don't remember a ball. I didn't—"
"You didn't what?!" His tone snaps, sharp enough to make the servants flinch.
I stare at him. None of this makes sense. I haven't done any of whatever he's blabbering on about. The memories don't exist in my head.
Is this how Wonder felt like at the end of the novel?
My mother, her lips pressed thin, cuts in coldly. "Do you even know the shame you've caused? We own all the diamond mines—all of them! And yet, no one cares. No one wants them. And now, you sit there pretending to be indifferent, a mockery of our family's legacy."
"...I don't understand." I whisper. I feel like I'm on trial for crimes I haven't committed.
"Understand this," my father hisses, leaning forward, eyes hard as stone. "You have disgraced us, our wealth, and our name in front of the crown prince, and yet you have the audacity to act as if you are entitled to anything!"
I swallow hard, glancing down at my hands. I have nothing to say. Nothing I can say will convince them. Their anger isn't rooted in reality—it's built from years of frustration, failure, and disappointment, projected onto me.
I open my mouth, trying to form some kind of defense, some explanation for the accusations I can't even remember.
"I... I don't—"
My words stumble out, weak and uncertain, like a child trying to argue with adults who've already made up their minds.
My father's eyes narrow. "Don't 'I don't!' you say! You think ignorance excuses your behavior? Is that it?"
I blink. "I—I wasn't—"
My mother cuts in sharply. "Do you think your excuses matter when you've humiliated this family?"
Heat rises in my chest. Every fiber of me wants to scream: I didn't do anything! But the words die before they even reach my lips.
My eyes start to water, My breath is shallow, im on the verge of a panic attack.
And then quietly, someone steps forward, the maid who was in my room today.
"Dinner is getting cold," she says softly, but with enough authority to make both parents pause mid-scolding.
"Perhaps Young Master should eat before the food spoils." she continues, glancing at me briefly with a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of understanding in her eyes.
My father huffs, lips pressed tight, but says nothing more. My mother's gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, but then she turns her attention back to her plate.
I exhale slowly, relieved and blink away my tears.
The maid hasn't openly sided with me—she can't—but she's managed to give me a lifeline.
I pick up my fork, hands still trembling. Each bite tastes bitter, but I manage.
Is this why Wonder is skinny? I wouldn't want to eat if all my parents did was yell at me.
Well atleast he has parents who care. I scratch that thought away fast.
'Maybe surviving this family dinner isn't impossible' I think as I softly smile at the maid.
The smile doesn't last long. Not because I don't mean it—but because she doesn't return it.
The maid lowers her gaze almost immediately, like she hadn't seen it at all. Like acknowledging it would be crossing a line she couldn't afford.
...Right.
I look back down at my plate.
The clinking of silverware fills the silence. Sharp.
Like nothing happened.
"Since you've at least managed to sit through dinner without collapsing" my mother says lightly, dabbing her lips with a napkin, "i assume you won't be repeating your behavior from the last ball."
"...What behavior?" I ask before I can stop myself.
That was a mistake. The air shifts. My father's fork hits the plate with a quiet, deliberate clink.
"You truly don't remember?" he says.
I swallow. "...No"
A pause.
Then—
"You struck a noble."
"...What?"
My mother exhales softly, like she's already tired of this conversation. "Not just any noble, Lord Halvern's second son."
The name means nothing to me, but the way she says it makes me feel like It should.
"You caused a scene," my father continues, "Raised your voice. Accused him of... Something incoherent. And then—"
He stops... As if even saying it is beneath him.
"You hit him" my mother finishes flatly.
My mother folds her hands neatly in front of her. "Do you have any idea what it looks like? To attack a noble at a royal gathering?"
My chest tightens.
"No, you clearly don't." she answers for me. "It looks desperate. Unstable. Beneath us."
"I wouldn't just hit someone for no reason." I say, the words coming out before I can filter them. My father's eyes narrow slightly.
"Oh?" he says mockingly. "And what reason would justify it then?"
I open my mouth.
And nothing comes out.
Because I don't know!
Because I wasn't fucking there!
But they won't believe that. So I just swallow and look away.
My mother sighs, like I've just proven something she already believed. "Exactly."
My father leans back slightly, gaze still fixed on me.
"Whether you remember or not is irrelevant," he says. "The damage is done."
"The crown prince himself had to intervene," he adds.
My breath catches.
"...He did?"
"He was the one who stopped you," my mother says. "How humiliating."
"You will attend the next gathering," he says, tone final. "And you will behave, understood?" he presses.
"...Understood." I echo quietly.
The rest of the meal passes in silence. Or something close to it. The kind of silence that presses against your ears. That makes every small sound feel too loud.
When it finally ends, my parents stand without another word. They leave, I can still feel the judgement in the air.
"…Young Master."
I look up.
The maid stands beside me again. Closer this time. Her expression is still composed, but her eyes are filled with pity.
"Would you like some tea, Young Master?" She asks softly.
"... No thank you." I swallow.
As she turns to leave, I grab her by her sleeve, "...Did I really do that?" I give a silent apology as I let go of her sleeve.
"...There were many witnesses," she says carefully.
I exhale slowly.
"...I see."
The maid turns to leave, but as the door closes she blurts out, "For what its worth...You did not look like someone acting without reason."
The door closes.
****************************************************
The hallways are quieter now.
Most of the servants have disappeared, retreating into the shadows like they were never there to begin with.
Only the dim lights remain.
And the silence.
I walk without thinking.
Past doors I don't recognize.
Past paintings of people I don't know.
All of them staring down at me like they do know me.
Like they've already judged me too.
"...tch..."
I look away. And then—
It hits. Sharp. Sudden. Like something driving straight through my skull.
"—gh—"
My steps falter, my world tilts, I grab the nearest wall, fingers scraping against cold stone as the pain spikes.
Images flash, a ballroom. A man and a lady. Laughter. Mocking. A voice in my head which is too loud.
A hand gripping my wrist. Tight. Unwanted.
"Let go—"
The pain explodes.
"—ah—!"
My knees give out.
I hit the floor hard, the impact barely registering as my hands clutch at my head. My vision blurs, tears spilling before I can stop them.
It hurts.
It hurts—it hurts—it hurts—
"I didn't—" My voice breaks, barely more than a whisper. "I didn't—"
But the memories don't stop.
A shove. A stagger. Gasps echoing through the hall.
And then—My own voice.
Shaking.
Desperate.
"Fuck you!"
My chest heaves. Air won't come in right.
My fingers curl against the floor as a sob tears out of me, raw and uncontrolled.
"I didn't—" I choke, shaking my head like I can throw the images away. "I didn't—"
But I did.
Or—
He did.
Wonder did.
The pain slowly ebbs, leaving behind a hollow, aching throb.
My breathing is uneven.
My face is wet.
I don't remember when I started crying.
"...Not without reason," I whisper hoarsely.
The maid's words echo back to me.
And for the first time—
They don't sound like comfort.
They sound like the truth.
I curl in on myself slightly, pressing my forehead against the cold floor.
"...What the hell did they do to you, Wonder?"