In a room, a figure lay still on a bed.
The room was dim, lit only by the flickering flame of a wall-mounted lantern that cast long shadows across the high stone walls.
The room was silent, the curtains were drawn.
A man's body lay unmoving on a bed.
His dark blue hair fanned across the pillow, while his eyes was closed.
He looked elegant even in stillness, like a royal in slumber.
His skin was pale, his chest unnaturally still, and yet… there was no scent of death.
Only the deep, unmoving weight of something not quite gone, but not quite alive.
Standing beside him was a woman in a maid's uniform.
Her dark orange hair had been neatly tied back into a bun, though a few strands had slipped free and clung to her cheeks.
She said nothing, her hands folded politely in front of her apron, but her eyes, amber and watchful, never left the man on the bed.
Opposite her, near the chamber's large door, stood another figure.
A man, tall and lean, dressed in pitch black from collar to boots.
His presence was quiet but commanding, his expression unreadable, carved from something colder than ice.
Black hair, straight and shoulder-length, hung loosely around his face, partially veiling the sharpness of his eyes.
He didn't look at the woman when he spoke.
His voice was low, steady, without a trace of emotion.
"I will be back soon."
There was no pause.
No explanation.
"I don't have to tell you the specific place I'm going. All you should know is that I will be meeting with the ones who's hosting the event that my master will not be attending."
His gaze flicked briefly to the man on the bed.
It wasn't sorrow in his eyes.
Nor pity.
They was nothing in it.
"And when I return," he continued, "I will begin working on a way to bring him back. I don't care how impossible it is. I will find a way."
He turned slightly then, his voice dipping lower, colder, like steel in the dark.
"But until that time… there is one thing I won't say twice." His eyes narrowed, and though he still didn't look at the maid, the temperature in the room dropped with his words. "No one is to enter this chamber. No one. Not even a foot near the threshold. This room… is forbidden."
The maid bowed her head slightly, her voice soft but firm.
"As you wish, Sir Valen. I will remain here by Master's side, and no one shall enter. You have my word."
Valen said nothing more.
He didn't nod.
He didn't glance at her.
He simply turned.
The door creaked open under his hand.
A chill wind swept through the gap, brushing the bed covers and the edges of the maid's dress.
And then, he was gone.
The door shut behind him with a low, final thud.
The maid remained still for a long moment, eyes lingering on the bed.
"Master…" she whispered beneath her breath. "What happened to you…?"
But the man on the bed did not stir.
The silence within the chamber had returned to its undisturbed stillness, like an untouched grave in the middle of a storm.
The flickering lantern continued to dance weakly against the stone walls, its light fading slightly with each passing minute.
The shadows were growing longer, stretching like fingers toward the man lying unmoving on the grand bed.
The maid, the one who had been commanded to remain, stood still beside her master.
Her amber eyes remained fixed on his face, watching, waiting.
There was no sound save for the soft crackling of the flame and the occasional rustle of her skirt when she shifted her stance.
Time passed, slow and heavy.
Then came the knock.
It was soft.
Polite.
The kind of knock reserved for nobility.
And then, without waiting for a response, the door creaked open.
A young woman stood there.
She wore the same uniform, clean, precise, every button polished, but her expression was too bright, too eager, as if she hadn't yet grasped the weight of the air in the room.
She stepped forward, one foot inside, and gave a small bow, her voice lilting with formal grace.
"Greetings," she said, her tone careful, respectful. "I came to take note of your meal for the morning, just—"
But she stopped.
Her eyes caught sight of the man on the bed.
She blinked once.
Then twice.
The pen in her hand stilled.
Her book, once held with purpose, now trembled slightly at her side.
The older maid raised a hand sharply, finally speaking, but it was too late.
"Wait, don't come in."
The young woman had already stepped over the threshold.
The door closed behind her with a click.
The moment she fully entered the room, everything changed.
Her breath caught in her throat as the chill of the chamber gripped her skin.
Her gaze, wide and disbelieving, locked onto the figure lying still on the bed.
She moved forward slowly, each step hesitant.
Her words faltered as they passed trembling lips.
"W-What happened…?", She asked.
The older maid didn't move.
Her amber eyes now rested sharply on the girl before her.
"You shouldn't have come in," she said flatly. "Weren't you and the others warned not to cross this door."
The younger maid turned, confusion and fear beginning to grow on her face.
"I didn't know… I didn't think—"
"That man," the elder said, nodding toward the bed, "is not just a noble. He is our master. And he lies there now, between life and something far worse. And no one, no one, was to disturb him."
The younger maid took a step back, her hands tightening around the book and pen, trying to steady herself.
"I thought… I mean, I heard nothing… I didn't know it was this serious. I—I was only told to bring the—"
"I don't know about what you are saying, neither do i care," the older maid cut in coldly. "This place for now, isn't governed by the usual routines. You crossed a line. And now you'll wait here until Sir Valen returns."
The name struck like a stone.
The young maid's face paled.
"Sir… Valen?" she repeated. "But… I didn't mean to—"
"He told me not to repeat myself. But you've forced me to. So pray he's in a forgiving mood."
The younger maid swallowed hard, her voice nearly a whisper.
"…Is he going to die?"
The question hung in the air like smoke, refusing to fade.
The older maid looked back at the bed, and something softened briefly in her gaze.
"I don't know, maybe he already is," she said, quieter now. "But if he isn't, and he does later… it won't be because he gave up. It'll be because the world feared what would happen if he ever opened his eyes again."