Carmine entered Elaine's room quietly, the air heavy with silence. Elaine sat at her dresser, her reflection in the mirror almost ghostly.
Her shoulders slumped, her eyes hollow, and the dark circles beneath them seemed carved deep into her skin. She looked deprived of sleep, as though the nights had stolen more than rest.
Carmine approached, her voice soft but edged with worry. "Elaine… what happened to you?"
Elaine turned slowly, her gaze distant, her voice fragile. "I just need some time."
Carmine hesitated, torn between pressing further and respecting Elaine's boundaries. At last, she nodded and stepped back. "Alright," she whispered, leaving the room with a heavy heart.
Emily, passing by, caught a glimpse of the scene. For once, her usual aloofness faltered. She stared in quiet awe at Elaine's frailty, unsettled by the rawness of her suffering.
It was a side of palace life she had never expected to witness.
Later that day, the palace stirred with new presence. A maid had arrived — a timid woman with rough hands and sharp, judgy eyes. She carried a small bag slung over her shoulder, so tiny it raised suspicion. Her movements were strange, her knees and hips seeming to disagree with one another, giving her gait an uncanny rhythm.
Without a word, she began her work. Dust vanished from corners Carmine herself had never noticed. Floors gleamed, curtains fell into perfect folds. Isabelle, usually impossible to please, seemed blissfully content with the maid's diligence.
At dinner, tension returned. Isabelle pressed Colden again, her voice sharp with insistence. "Your answer, Colden. Do not delay." He sat tense, his silence heavy. Carmine, meanwhile, watched the maid. She carried five bowls at once, her balance unnerving, her eyes never wavering.
When Emily's knife slipped from her hand, the maid caught it mid-air with startling precision. Isabelle scolded Emily harshly, but Carmine's attention remained fixed on the maid's uncanny reflexes.
After the meal, curiosity gnawed at Carmine. She followed the maid to the staff unit. Inside, she found her lying not on the bed, but on the bare frame, her body curled tightly.
As Carmine stepped into the doorway, the maid's eyes snapped open. In an instant, she was on her feet, a knife clutched in her hand, her posture alarmed and ready.
Carmine froze, the air between them thick with tension.
To be continued…