Anastaria flopped back into bed and yanked the blankets over her head.
The sheets were smooth against her skin—soft, expensive, and impossibly warm. The kind of comfort you could drown in. It didn't take long before sleep pulled her under again.
She dreamed of her old life. The dull comfort of it. Her friend's stupid laugh. Sharing snacks on a tiny mattress. Complaining about work while heating up the same brand of noodles for the fifth day in a row. It wasn't glamorous—but it was real. And in the dream, she hadn't died. She hadn't woken up in some stranger's body. Everything had gone on just the way it used to.
Until that sound.
A faint, mosquito-like buzz nagged at the edge of her dream.
She tried to ignore it. Rolled over. Pulled the blanket higher.
But it didn't stop.
Then came the voice. Polite. Nervous. Too careful.
"Miss… breakfast has been prepared. Your father requested I wake you."
A pause.
"You've… overslept."
She cracked one eye open. Her vision was still blurry from sleep, but a figure stood at the edge of the bed.
It was a girl, young, maybe her age or younger, dressed in what looked like an elegant maid uniform. Not the cheap frilly kind. This one was fitted and high-quality—white and deep royal purple, with long sleeves and a structured bodice. The apron had the Noir family crest stitched across the front: a stylized purple flame embroidered in silk thread, curling upward with sharp precision. Even her buttons looked custom—small black stones set in polished metal.
Everything about her was too clean, too proper. Even the tension in her posture looked rehearsed.
She stared blankly, still halfway between sleep and reality.
Then, without thinking, she sat up straight and stood abruptly on the bed.
The maid flinched, startled by the sudden movement, and immediately dropped to her knees.
"I'm sorry! Please forgive me—I only did as instructed! Your father insisted you be woken!"
Anastaria blinked again.
Right.
She wasn't just Anastaria anymore. She was Anastaria Noir. Dark twin. Cursed noble daughter. The one everyone whispered about when they thought she wasn't listening.
And apparently, she slept in.
She stayed standing on the bed for a second longer, the blankets tangled around her legs, her thoughts still scrambled. The room was too bright now. Too fancy. The memory of her old life already slipping through her fingers.
A heavy silence settled between them.
The maid kept her head low, clearly unsure if she'd just triggered a noble tantrum.
She wiped the drool from her mouth with the back of her arm, with an awkward smile.
"Heh… sorry about that. I was just a little startled."
It was a harmless sentence.
But the maid stared at her like she'd just spoken in tongues.
The maid looked at the misses appearance as there were random hairs sticking up on her head and a patch of dried drool on her mouth. This was quite different from her always put together look.
Anastaria's seemed to be unaware as her smile twitched.
Okay… was that not the right response?
Because the girl looked one second away from calling a priest.
In a moment of innocent boldness—or perhaps a brain glitch—the maid blurted out, "Miss… are you feeling alright?"
Anastaria's eye twitched.
Did she already catch on?!
She'd only said one sentence. One! Was she that bad at pretending? Was her acting so off that the maid already noticed?
Don't panic, she told herself. Just smile. Noble ladies smile, right?
So, she did. Eyes closed just enough to seem serene. A harmless, dignified, "I-have-my-life-together" kind of smile.
If she just ignored the question, maybe the maid would drop it.
Instead—
Thump.
"Forgive me, Miss! I've overstepped! I deserve to be punished!"
Thump. Thump.
The maid had dropped to her knees and was kowtowing like her life depended on it. Forehead slamming into the floor with so much force it echoed off the marble.
Anastaria flinched with each hit. "What the—?! Hey! You! Quit that!"
Was she trying to crack the floor open!
She scrambled forward, trying to stop her—completely forgetting the blanket still tangled around her legs.
It was like watching a train derail in slow motion.
One second she was on the bed. The next?
Splat.
She hit the floor so hard she felt her brain shake in her head. Her soul might've actually detached for a full two seconds.
She laid there, face down too embarrassed to move. Should she just play dead?
"Miss?! Are you alright?!" the maid cried out in horror.
Anastaria didn't respond hoping this whole situation would just go away. How embarrassing ah! The maid had watched as she completely ate shit! The old Anastaria was elegant and perfect she had never had such a moment.
"W-Wait here! I'll go get the physician!" the maid cried, already turning to bolt.
Anastaria shot up so fast the blanket flew back onto the bed. "I'm okay!" she blurted.
Her forehead throbbed from the fall, a red patch already blooming like a warning label. The maid took one look at it—and her eyes filled with tears.
"This is all my fault, Miss…"
Anastaria's soul nearly left her body.
Oh no. No no no.
If someone walked in right now and saw this scene, it'd 100% look like she'd been bullying the poor girl. She really wanted to cry, ah!
"I swear it's not your fault!" she said quickly, voice high with panic. "Really—I'm fine!"
To prove it, she hopped up and did a little spin, then raised her arms like a gymnast finishing a routine. "See? Full mobility!"
The maid stared at her, utterly stunned.
Was she… dancing?
This… this wasn't the Anastaria everyone whispered about. The terrifying, cold-hearted, maid-tormenting demon in noble silk.
No. This looked more like someone who'd hit her head really hard.
The maid blinked.
When she'd been assigned to wake Lady Anastaria, the other servants had looked at her like she was being sent to the gallows. But this?
She was quite confused.