12#5

Whisper.

Whispers.

And scornful stares.

When I stepped back into the classroom, I felt like I had set foot in a foreign place that I had never reached until now.

Like a superstar and a frog in a shell.

Famous-in a not-so-favourable way-but also alone.

Really. It reminds me of when I used to be.

Damn! That's why I often say that school is a portable hell - make of it what you will.

Yeah... not that I care.

After all, this isn't my life either.

One day, I'll open my eyes and realise that all of this is just a dream flower that I'll quickly forget-wow, wow, ah!

I almost fell over.

Fortunately, my movements were quite swift. Before actually falling, I managed to keep myself standing... for a few seconds.

This damn body was even too weak and clumsy to just take the sudden shock.

Then I heard giggles. Some muffled. Some blatant.

As I dusted off my skirt and swallowed the saliva that was somehow getting bitter, someone approached.

Extending a hand. "Miss, is it okay? Sorry, yes. I didn't mean to."

I stared at him for a long time.

The mouth of this unknown man in front of me curved, but his eyes did not smile.

Either he was an awkward person or he was mocking me.

Halah, it must be the latter. There's no mistaking it. "Thanks, um..."

"Taylor. Taylor Wilder."

"Yes..., Taylor, but no need. It'll be too much trouble. I can do it myself." I turned away from her and tried to get back to my seat.

Hanging out with that bunch of bastards once again.

...

Well, that's impossible.

Before I even arrived, my seat had already been stolen by a girl from nowhere with dark hair, a freckled face, and all the other boring features.

The girl laughed as Sara laughed. Enthusiastic when Sara told stories. And sympathetic enough when the colour of the conversation turned a little more sombre.

Her acting isn't that great, but she's a lot more docile than I am.

A typical puppet that's easy to steer.

When I approached and tried to force my way in - you'd think I'd just shut up about it, huh? -, Sara laughed loudly. Grabbing as much attention as possible to avoid me.

Tsk!

Yes, yes.

I know.

I have no place there anymore.

Yuck. I wouldn't want to sit near them if I didn't have to.

So I changed course and walked further back.

Avoiding the frenetic socialising of the elite who were picky and hypocritical. Joining the ranks of the outcasts.

"If you keep bending it like that, you'll lose the sweetness."

I seated myself in the very back seat-the only place that happened to be empty. Trying to ignore all the satanic whispers that hit me.

But I couldn't.

Arsenault's gaze was so intense that it was disturbing. "Thanks for the advice, Mr Arsenault."

Arsenault shrugged. Instead, he turned around and seemed even more interested in harassing me. "Dumbass."

"Huh?"

"He said that earlier, it's your friend. But in my opinion, he's the one who's stupid." Arsenault rested her face on her hands and flashed her annoying smile. "If he really saw the result of the match yesterday, he should have been more careful when talking."

What was that? Sarcasm?

Even his face that was covered in plasters, small bandages, and bruises seemed to be shouting at me with implicit sarcastic cursing.

Waiting to hear the magic word.

Tsk!

Yes, yes. I know.

After all, it would be bad if I made more enemies.

But, it still feels uncomfortable when I say "I'm sorry" again.

"Hm?" Arsenault was stunned-or at least he tried to look so.

It was pretty good acting. I thought he really never minded-which would be impossible. "I went too far yesterday, but it was just..."

Well, this is usually a good time to cry. It makes it seem more sincere.

But, it would be weird if a violent person who just had a tantrum suddenly shed tears.

I don't know what kind of response I'll get from Arsenault. Either she'd start thinking of me as some kind of sick person whose mind was possessed by the devil or it would be interpreted as an indirect mockery.

So I just bowed my head, lowered my tone, and put on as classy a face as possible.

There was no response.

What do you mean I'm too visible?

Arsenault finally spoke up, but what came out was... laughter?

"You mean this?" She tried to stop with difficulty.

Fortunately, the room was still crowded at that time. I, who already had a bad reputation, would have been given a new title: 'member of the lunatic fringe'.

So, I raised my hand and grabbed Arsenault's cheek, suddenly.

That successfully made her gasp and shut up instantly.

"It must hurt, right?" I grimaced, really-looking-concerned.

There was a slight temptation to squeeze the place where the bandages were glued tightly, watching this bastard bloke grimace and sink into severe pain.

What would his pretty face look like when he was thrashing about?

"Ah. No need to think about it. It's a match." Arsenault smiled wryly. "My father once said that if we get into a fight, it means we're ready to die."

"But that was a trivial fight."

"There's no such thing as a trivial fight, sweetie." Arsenault stroked my hand that was holding her cheek. Slowly. Softly. Disgusting.

I don't.

Even though her flowery gaze now makes me gag, I must endure-as usual.

"Yes... even if I die, I wouldn't mind being killed by a woman as tough and beautiful as you, my good Lady."

It was hard not to frown in embarrassment.

I slowly had to distance myself from this creature and take a breath.

Oh no, she was grasping my hand, tightly.

I think that sudden movement was a dumb idea.

"Could you please stop?"

I realised that there was someone next to me.

His voice sounded harsh, sharp, and cynical. I think I've got a rather troublesome peer again.

But, never mind.

At least he was helpful enough to attract the attention of that damn Arsenault so that I could be free again.

"What, what? You're jealous, hm?" Arsenault frowned and smiled-again in that distinctive way that makes you want to slap his face once in a while. "Calm down. My heart is too big to be occupied by one person. There's still room for you-"

"Sir!" Jeanette shot me a piercing and serious look. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

Well, good!

Keep it up, okay? I get a headache if that bloke keeps blabbering on, you know.

"And you, Miss."

Hm.

Eh? Huh?

He... pointed at me?

"What do you want here? Wasn't that commotion enough?"

Huh? How come I'm the one being blamed?

"Eh, I-"

"Why do you have to sit here? Listen. I don't want to find trouble. You sitting here could be a disaster and potentially disrupt my concentration."

Heh! At least let me finish talking first.

I took a breath.

Calm down, Nadia. Calm down.

It could be bad if I lose control again, especially since this time the opponent is not just a big-mouthed crybaby, but a real monster.

"Jeantte, right?" My voice was so smooth as it droned out that I almost thought it belonged to someone else.

Too smooth, I guess.

Because what I got instead was a suspicious narrowed-eyed stare.

"We've met before. Yesterday."

"Not a meeting to remember." Jeanette returned to her thick, boring book that made me yawn just by looking at it. "And you still owe me an apology. You and your friends."

Huh?

Okay, okay. Just go with it. "Ah yes, yesterday was really unintentional. I was mela-"

"I won't believe and accept a fake apology like that." Jeanette gave Arsenault a glance, snorted, and shook her head.

Not caring. Likes to be outspoken. And brave. Too brave.

That's exactly how I used to be.

But I don't have any mega-power that could be a time bomb.

That's why I need to behave better.

Unfortunately, it seems that the first impression I thought was good, turned out to be interpreted in the opposite way-it's a wonder how she could equate me with those evil people.

I should at least take her heart if I want a safer life.

If I'm not mistaken, the key to friendship is mutual understanding.

Mutual understanding is born from empathy. Similarity of character. Compatibility.

After daydreaming about some complicated theories I memorised from the internet long ago, I put in the best effort I could. "Wow, it's the History of Conquest book-"

"Miss!" Jeanette closed the book abruptly. She gave me the same sharp look. "I'm allowing you to sit here, so please, no more talking, will you?"

I gasped.

Arsenault laughed with delight at my distress.

How dare he respond to my good intentions like that.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please forgive my tardiness." A stomping sound entered the room and the air grew quiet.

People began to take their seats in order.

The woman who entered resembled a giant poodle-tiny, hunchbacked, with curly blonde hair, and always smiling.

Where her neck should have been there were only lumps of fat piled up and strands of gold of a slightly dull colour.

The woman started talking and everyone noticed.

Even Jeanette.

I smiled. Awkward, unpleasant, annoyed to death.

Ouch!

I even accidentally clawed my own palm until it almost bled - probably because I clenched my hand too tightly earlier.

Yuck!

Okay. Nadia, calm down.

Next time.

Yes, I will. Next time, definitely.

*#*

"More upright. More upright. I told you, exactly zero

"Be straighter. More upright. I told you, exactly ninety degrees. Have you been listening all this time?" So, I obeyed.

Tried to lean vertically. As tense as a peg. As calm as a spear.

I thought I'd succeed this time, but suddenly one of the books stacked above my head fell.

Another one fell. Then another. Then another until it scattered.

CTAS!

My back was hit by the rattan again.

It really hurts, devil.

It's hot and blistering, and it's spicy. It was like being plastered with dozens of chilli patches at once - a throbbing attack of pain combined with a burning sensation.

Whereas the previous one was still recovering and throbbing, this is even more so.

I'm sure my back has now turned red, or blue, or even developed ugly transverse bruises-watch out if that happens, I won't let this old lady live with her limbs intact.

"She has zero table manners, she doesn't know how to write or spell properly, and this... she even sits down wrong." Mrs Merryweather shook her head and sighed. "I wonder who is your designated mentor at home, or do you not even have a mentor?"

"I-"

CTAS!

The rattan slid again and its target this time was the mouth... almost. It's a good thing I was able to dodge it-yeah, that Super Sight thankfully activated at just the right moment. "Who told you to answer?"

Ah..., damn it. What a crazy old woman.

Can I report her behaviour like this to the royal court? Or should I send soldiers from my own house to teach her a lesson?

Then I remembered what happened earlier. And now I knew who to watch out for more wisely.

Not to mention that the people I called 'soldiers' were now barely able to count their fingers.

It's also made up of kids who might whine at the sight of blood, parents who can't be trusted, and a small number of others who are in the middle with reluctant loyalty.

Mrs Merryweather paced around for a while and looked at me like a slaughtered goat.

Ouch... what kind of crazy 'lesson' was she dictating this time.

Then, she stopped. Sighing. "Huh. Sorry, yes. I don't have all day for this. I'll leave the lesson here."

Huh?

This... really?

As she walked away, her eyes framed by square glasses leered briefly. "I hope you have learnt a lot today."

Then the door closed.

Hiah! I'm finally free!

What the hell was that?

This was more like hell than punishment. No wonder Dylan thought it was worth it - and what the hell was that fucking Sara thinking it wasn't enough?

Besides, what she calls a 'lesson' isn't clear at all.

Ethics? How to sit? Even guidelines on how to behave at something as trivial and ridiculous as a tea party?

What bullshit!

Heh!

Just so he knows, before being plunged into this stupid imaginary world, I was a functional adult citizen of a democratic country.

How I behave is up to me.

After all, I'm royalty. Those who stand at the top. The people of honour. The top of the food chain.

Why should I be the one to behave?

Ah, damn it. The more I think about it, the more annoyed I get.

I need to get out of this torture chamber before I go completely insane.

The hallways were deserted and the sunlight had turned into a cool orange heat.

After setting foot in this godforsaken place a few times, I realised that this was the only building that was minimalist at best.

The walls were only hung with candles and oil lamps. There were paintings, but none of them showed the beauty of the natural landscape or anything else artistic.

Instead, they depict things that are difficult to understand-even for me.

Images of war.

Fighting.

Heroism.

There is even one interesting painting that highlights the scene of a mass execution of a group.

I think I've seen this type of creation before.

Ah, right. The one in the arena the other day.

Damn.

I don't know if I'm a genius or if my imagination is just too cool.

Everything is detailed and related.

But yeah... it's called imagination, so it will never happen.

As soon as this ambiguous dream ends, everything will fall apart and return to the way it was before....

"The Livingsworth Clan is already making moves. According to the report I heard, they visited Earl Darnwill yesterday, bringing gifts."

"It could have been a simple friendly visit-"

"A friendly visit to discuss marriage and alliance. For a long time, that Livingsworth clan has been eyeing the throne."

"Which they won't get. The right of succession can only be held by the king's children. Me. Or you, if something comes up."

There was an unfamiliar voice.

Not one, but two, and not far from here.

It seemed to be in one of the unlocked rooms. The classroom at the end of the corridor-just next to the door.

I tiptoed over. I wanted to take a peek, but I had a feeling that I should stay away.

There was a feeling that this was a dangerous conversation that shouldn't be overheard.

What the hell.

Do you still believe in hunches these days? You were born in the era of independence, weren't you?

Even if my life is in danger, so what?

This is a dream too. And if it wasn't, I'd have died before too-if you think about it, that would be a good irony: dying twice, hihi.

"The right of succession can be possessed by all those related to the king by blood."

Someone corrected. And after I looked through that sloppy super-narrow, it turned out to be... Devon? Huh. I shouldn't have been too surprised, though.

"Earl Darnwill can't be that kind of person," someone else said in a sombre, regretful tone. A tone I never thought would come out of the mouth of... Zack?

Huh?

What are they doing here? In the afternoon? Discussing conspiracies? In the most unsafe environment like a school.

"My good Nonaku, Your Majesty has graciously granted us the honour of guiding you all to become the next generation of people who are humble and bring prosperity to the country."

Dylan's words played back in my head like the strains of a hoarse, ugly old song.

Does that mean all this nonsense called 'school of nobility' is a puppet institution of the king to keep tabs on his subjects?

I don't think I made the king that cunning in my book just yet. They should be the good guys here.

"I hope so too, but..."

Eh, eh. Devon took something out. It was a suspicious leather parchment. With even more suspicious contents - Zack immediately glared and looked even more sour. "This is..."

"As you can see, Sis. They want to create an army. Hire mercenaries. Workers are being armed and trained." Devon sighed. "Granting the title was a reckless and unfortunate move, right from the start."

"I just want to thank you, okay?" Zack ruffled his hair in frustration. "I can't believe that Uncle could be that bold."

While Zack scowled and regretted whatever stupid thing he had done, I saw Devon looking down and seemingly reading something.

"I also heard that Livingsworth visited the Carrol family a few days ago."

Zack gasped again. "They went to Whirlpol too? They planning something? Isn't holding back their heir enough?"

Devon was silent and just looked at his brother for a second. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah... that's right. As long as we keep that guy here, Whirlpol won't dare to do anything."

"So what? Why are you telling me this?"

I'm sure Devon gave a small chuckle. "Just making sure. I guess you didn't read my written report, bro."

"You're this. You're shocking." Zack exhaled forcefully and steadied himself in his lounger. "You know what? Lately, my stomach and throat have been hurting every time we meet. When I see your face, there's always some bad news I need to hear."

"It's my job to report suspicious things in the country." Devon shrugged. "What do you expect to hear from me?"

"I don't know. School life. Maybe you have something to tell me. Your friends. Or some girl that caught your eye." Zack scratched his cheek and blushed. "Yeah... I'm not as wise as you, but I'll try to give you appropriate advice."

"My daily life isn't important. It's not very interesting either."

"Tsk! You've always been so stiff, you know." Zack chuckled. "Not that there's anything interesting. Hm... for example, the lady who was sitting behind you. I heard she got into a fight with Sara. But aren't they best friends? Is there a problem?"

E-eh?

Under these circumstances, my heart should be pounding and my face blushing.

But, all I had was a nasty, lumpy feeling in my throat.

What the heck are these rancid boys? Do they want to make fun of me too?

"Rachel Dawver, you mean?" Devon snorted and shook his head. "Not a problem you should be thinking about."

"Really?"

"If anything is more important, it's Carrington. He seems to be getting closer to Livingsworth lately."

"Well, here we go again, right." Zack shook his head, trying to understand. "You don't think Sara and her family have some nefarious conspiracy, do you?"

"I'm just trying to be prepared for any situation."

"Carrington has been a friend of the kingdom for a long time. Moreover, Sara is our childhood friend, remember?" Zack's face suddenly hardened.

I think I just heard an interesting fact.

"I don't think that guarantees that-"

"STOP! Okay." Zack stood up suddenly, but immediately dropped back down and sighed many times.

I didn't expect to see that look on his face.

"I know you mean well, but this is going too far. To the point of suspecting your own best friend like this."

The room was silent for a while.

Then, before I knew it, Devon bowed his head. "Sorry, Sis. My words were presumptuous and I crossed the line."

Zack watched him for a while. Just as shocked as I was, I guess. Then he said nervously. "Never mind. Don't worry about it-"

"But you need to be prepared for what I'm about to tell you."

Zack frowned. He seemed to regret forgiving her so easily. "Duh... this kid."

"Especially when you're in such a condition-"

"What are you doing here?"

DEG!

This girl... how long has she been here.

I thought it was just me-and the two men in the room.

But instead, Jeanette Folkstein was standing in front of me. Carrying a stack of books and looking at me with the same look of suspicion and obvious dislike as this morning.

"I-I'm again..."

Whoops! That's bad!

It could be a real geprek if I got caught eavesdropping on their conversation.

"What's wrong? Why are you staying quiet?" Jeanette followed my direction. "Is someone in there?"

"No!"

I panicked, and my voice came out too loud.

They must have realised by now-no, they must have realised earlier.

So what should I do?

Run away?

But, there are still witnesses here.

Besides, this body is weak as hell. Especially if I have to drag one more person.

As a result, we'll be caught before we get to the door.

With this flashy hair, it wouldn't be hard for two princes like them to catch me.

And if all those scenarios happened, I would fall into the underground cell just like Sara wanted.

"Is anyone there?"

Ouch... thinking too much, I was running out of time.

Since there was no other choice, I grasped Jeanette's hand tightly, trying to drag her away together so that no one would be harmed.

Too late!

Just as I was about to take a step, the classroom door opened.

Devon looked at us with a gaze that seemed to strip us naked.

"Good afternoon, Prince Devon," I greeted with a dumb face.

Being prejudiced is healthy.

Humans have always been complicated creatures.

It's because of this, as the only organism intelligent enough to process the most complicated thing in the universe called language, we like to trouble ourselves.

One word can have a million meanings.

One tone can change an entire sentence.

So, what is not said is far more important than what is said.

The point is, humans are taught to be hypocrites and liars from an early age. And, the higher your social status in society, the more skilful and smooth the falsehoods you will encounter.

Everything becomes veiled.

Ridicule. Sarcasm. Compliments. Expressions of desire.

Even threats.

"Thank you for taking the trouble to drop me off. I think it's best if I get off here. My house can't be traversed by a motorcade, so it'll be too much trouble."

The soldier in front of me just shook his head. He looks familiar-yes, that's right, I just met him this morning, the one who deliberately tripped and humiliated me.

Taylor Swi-

Eits.

Almost got copyrighted.

What was his name? Taylor Wild? Taylor Brief? Taylor Wilder? Ah, yes, it was the last one.

"It's our duty to fulfil our duties until they are completed, Miss. There's no need to bother with such trivial matters." Which can also be interpreted as: Do you really think, after hearing that sacred negotiation, you can just walk away?

Haram jaddah, indeed.

I'd rather keep quiet until the journey is over.

It could be bad if other problems arose.

Normally, sitting alone with a decent-looking young man in a cramped room would feel good.

But again, all I could taste and feel each time I travelled was bitterness and a bout of dizziness.

Now we stepped into the Dawver family's main castle in a frenzied procession.

One horse-drawn carriage and four cavalrymen escorting at the four cardinal points-not giving me any leeway to do anything unexpectedly stupid.

There were actually six.

But two had disappeared since Jeanette was sent home.

They said it was to make sure she got home, but they haven't returned yet.

Heh! How naive do you think I am?

"I think we're here."

Eh?

"Moonrise Castle, right?"

"E-eh, yes."

Taylor Wilder flashed a polite smile. "It's a beautiful castle, Miss. I feel very honoured to be here. It's a good thing you didn't walk. Walking can be tiring. And when we're tired, we're in a bad mood. It's a bit of a shame to look at such a beautiful sight with a bad feeling."

Shit!

Yes, yes. I lied.

Are you satisfied?

"Thank you very much, yes. Say hello to Prince Zack and Prince Devon," I said as soon as I finished being escorted downstairs.

Taylor gave a final formal salute and pleasantries that I listened to reluctantly. Turned round. Shouted a series of commands. Leaving with the other four soldiers.

Or so they tried to show me.

Hah!

There's no way they could have just walked away.

I bet Devon had sent a special scout or two to watch my movements day and night.

Or even outright assassins.

Or a combination of both.

Those pesky princes!

If you dare, come and kill me yourself!

What do you think I'm afraid of?

....

Yes, I am.

Alas... what kind of life is this?

Threats are everywhere. Strangling obligations that I'm not really responsible for.

I want to go home.

I'm going home.

And, I know what to do.

*#*

"So it's not just me who's experiencing this?"

I flipped through the pages trying to find something helpful, or at least readable.

Still no luck.

Sigh!

What the hell is this wormy, twisted writing anyway?

Hebrew? Sanskrit? Magic runes? The writing of a stoned person?

Yeah... I did-surprisingly-find some alphabets. But, it was just a random collection of letters that couldn't even be spelt.

"It's rare. But there have been people who have experienced it and it's rare. Sometimes one person in ten years. One person in one year. Or one person in three months," said Rose-a waitress who looked like Mum.

Yes. I laughed too, at first-though secretly.

Can you imagine someone with a dodgy face having such a cool name?

Just thinking about it made me amused again. But, my mind was too tired to just laugh.

"So what? Who are they now?" I said in a half-hearted tone while lying on my bed.

It's only been three books and I'm already out of my mind.

Granted, I've been through worse, but at least there was a payoff-though it wasn't worth it.

Whereas this.

If all that lies ahead is a dead end, how can I even begin to move forward?

"It's... them." After not answering for a long time-and I thought she had already slipped out because she was fed up (understandably, because of the recent crisis, those damn people who called themselves followers and servants were getting impudent)-Rose finally answered stammeringly.

I noticed her odd gestures-eyes turned away, body slightly trembling, hands clasped together.

I seemed to know what she was going to say.

"Miss should not know about that."

That's right! It's always like this!

What does she think I am? A nine-year-old boy who believes in monster stories under the bed? "Tell me!"

"But-"

"Rose." I looked into her eyes and used a soft tone.

Yes... after the incident last time, I've finally realised that violence leads to other conflicts. "What are you afraid of? I won't get angry."

But, that didn't seem to be what she was concerned about. "It's not that, Miss. It's... they're..." Rose took a slow breath and exhaled bitterly. "People can be so horrible sometimes, Miss. You remember when I said the cause could be a curse?"

I nodded lazily. Not too hopeful.

"That's a dangerous kind of magic. An evil force hated by the Almighty. Those cursed are said to be the brides of the devil. Sent to earth to spread abomination, suffering, and death-"

"Hoam! Are you done?"

Demons?

Ah. Yes. I think there's something like that.

Hey, every story must have a final boss!

"Just get to the point."

"They were taken, Miss. By the mob. By royal soldiers. The priests. Only He knows what their fate is now."

Glurp!

So there's something like that too.

 Okay. One more reason to keep your mouth shut.

"About people from another world. Have you ever come across or heard of such a term?" I asked half-nervously, trying to change the subject.

"From another world?"

"Yeah... like a hero. He's the chosen one. Reincarnated. That sort of thing."

Rose just frowned. Silent. And looked at me as if to say silently: 'This lady is crazy."

"Argh! Forgot-"

"Oh. You mean He Who Was Foretold? The warrior who is said to be sent by the Almighty to destroy evil?"

What is this guy rambling on about?

But, an instant later, Rose's expression became troubled again. "Miss... Miss is sure it's okay, right?  Are you still feeling the effects? Or... do I need to call Mr Lucian again to give you some medicine?"

"How did it come to that?"

The worry I saw the first time I was in this wretched world appeared again. "For books like this, I understand. You like to read a lot. But divination? Didn't you say you don't believe in myths?"

Did I let myself make all the characters here as my self-insert, huh?

Ouch. Another troublesome predicate. "Who told you to believe in that? Just curious."

That look again.

Suspicious. But not in a bad way.

What does this old lady want, anyway? "Never mind. Thanks for your help today, go." I lifted the blanket up and started to think what kind of bad luck I'd have tomorrow.

But, I still feel it.

Rose is still here. From earlier.

What are you doing again, anyway?

Huh! I bet, after making sure I close my eyes, she'll secretly report to Lucian to get really medicated.

What the hell?

I don't want to ask for a favour from that crazy fake scientist.

And what's that?

Medicine! Medicine! Medicine!

What kind of a sick person am I?

You might as well bring a real specialist and home appliances here. Or show off to everyone that I have a curse-let me be publicly dragged and skewered.

What would he give me anyway?

Antibiotics that breed bacteria instead of killing them? Opium that would only relieve pain for a moment? Or even morphine?

Yikes!

I'd rather just drink the poison myself.

But...

Eh. Hold on. "Wait."

That's right. That Rose is still here. "Is there anything else Miss wants?"

"You said it's not the first time." Her behaviour also showed that this incident was quite frequent.

"That's right."

"Did I also show strange symptoms before like a few days ago?"

"Strange symptoms?" Rose frowned. I think I misspoke. "Miss, you-"

"Ma-meaning, yes... okay, I admit it. My memory hasn't fully returned yet, so-"

"Right. I told you, right." Rose immediately interrupted and rushed forward. Holding my head that wasn't hot at all. After that, she sighed. "Miss. I'm sorry I was a bit pushy this time. You must go to Mr Lucian's room and ask for medicine. Before things get worse."

"Okay," I said, 'sluggishly'.

Actually, without being told to, I would have gone there anyway.

The answer to this mystery had already been revealed.