Waking up usually isn’t such a painful deal for most folk.

Today, however, as soon as I opened my eyes, I felt a headache bearing the might of a thousand hangovers, instantly making me collapse back on my pillow, clutching my head, which somehow intensified the pain even more.

It felt my brain was a solid bronze bell getting hit by two dozen axes, each hit making the blade bite deep inside the metal and shaving away a chunk of my sanity, sending the painful ringing of a hundred resonating gongs through my skull.

Then, just as abruptly as it came, it was gone.

Instead, I felt… something, a mixture of a sharp spike and a slippery tendril jabbing into my skull and sliming around, scrambling the insides of my mind.

For a moment I was able to taste colors, and see pain, then I was able to smell the sound of my body shuffling around the bed, and taste pain.

Then my body turned lifeless as my mind nearly broke, no longer able to feel pain as it was too preoccupied trying to decipher the dense flux of memories getting injected in my head.

The unoccupied part of my brain faintly informed me that too much time was going by, the rest of me didn’t care as I was busy living a life that wasn’t my own in fast forward, too overwhelmed by the information getting practically pumped into me.

Then it stopped, and I found myself staring at a foreign ceiling

A minute

Two

Three

A good 5 minutes went by before I found the strength to grab the edge of the bed, lean over, and void the contents of my guts all over the expensive rug.

‘… The maids will clean it later,’ I attempted to open my mouth and say

But all I was capable of were few lifeless mumbles before another wave of puke rushed out of my throat.

Then I passed out.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in another part of the mansion:

Veronica woke up at 5:30 am sharp, her internal clock working with absolute precision.

She got up from bed, cleaned up, a quick bathroom break, and a few minutes to arrange her hair and get in her uniform.

She gave one last cursory look at her room, making sure it was neat and tidy as always, not a speck of dust or a single element out of place before she moved out.

She did the round of the mansion, making sure nothing unusual happened while she slept, and that no guard was missing, moving through the halls with unnatural speed and grace.

And just as she was about to stop, and go have her breakfast, her nose twitched.

A disgusting yet distinct smell floated up to her nose, and she moved, almost floating in pursuit of the element responsible for disturbing the clockwork order and perfect cleanness she worked hard to keep.

To her growing surprise, she was moving away from the servant’s quarters and into the estate proper.

Veronica slowed down, intent on keeping her perfect, demure image in case she ran into one of her employers, or worse, Archibald.

Eventually, she reached the first young master’s room, not surprised to see the aging butler walking down the hallway in slow, measured steps, bearing an impeccable posture, and perfectly tidy outfit.

He paused, for the barest fraction of a second, seeing her, then he nodded lightly.

“Good morning, sir Archibald,” she greeted, slightly lifting the hems of her skirt in an elegant display of manners.

“And to you lady Veronica,” He said, nodding again, then he reached with a white-gloved hand to her.

She didn’t move or flinch, sensing no killing intent from the aging butler. However, she felt herself slightly pale as he adjusted a lock of her supposedly perfect hair.

He didn’t say anything else, just turning to face the door and lightly knocking, seeing no response, he moved his hand to the handle.

Veronica forced herself to regain composure, and watched as he opened the door only to reveal…

The young master, face down on the floor, which was covered in a large puddle of vomit, while his lower half and left arm were still tangled with the bedding.

She didn’t even feel a thing before Archibald appeared behind the duke’s son, gently bending down and picking him up. With absolutely zero regards for the vomit, the aged butler removed his gloves (something which veronica never witnessed so far) and gently put his hand on the young master’s temple.

He looked at her, for the first time with concern in his eyes, and spoke

“Get a healer,”

Veronica nodded, serious, and started running.