Jennifer trudged up the stairs.
The second floor wasn’t far, but every bit of her ached from the day’s work.
She paused at the top, scanning the numbered doors until she found 2-F at the end of the hall. The brass key fit easily into the lock, and with a soft click, the door swung open.
She stepped inside and froze. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had the right place. The apartment was… Just as she expected for something that cost 2 silver coins a month.
Clean floors, freshly painted walls, and sunlight spilling through large windows. There were two cushioned chairs neatly arranged around a modest wooden table in the main room.
Curious, Jennifer wandered deeper. The bedroom was even better—a decent-sized bed with clean white sheets, a small dresser, and a mirror mounted on the wall. She pushed open another door to find a second, empty room, its walls bare but spotless. Perfect for storage. The bathroom was surprisingly large, with a full tub and shiny fixtures that gleamed like they’d been scrubbed that morning.
Jennifer let out a low whistle. “Well, this is a step up,” she muttered, setting her bag down by the bedroom door.
She dropped her new armor in the extra room. Her gauntlets hit the floor with a dull clunk, the battered metal barely holding together, the edges torn and cracked. She nudged them aside with her foot and stretched, feeling the sharp tug of stiff muscles beneath her bruised skin.
Back in the bedroom, she pulled the bedsheet off the mattress. She tossed it aside and rummaged through the closet. There, neatly folded on a shelf, were clean linens. She grabbed a new set and wrestled it onto the mattress. It wasn’t perfect—she was too tired to care about wrinkles—but it was good enough.
Satisfied, Jennifer straightened up and eyed the bathroom. A hot shower sounded better than anything in the world right now. She stepped inside and turned the knob, letting the water run until steam filled the air.
The heat stung as she stepped under the spray, the water pouring over her cuts and scrapes, deep and shallow. She hissed sharply, her breath catching at the burning sensation, but she didn’t back away. Instead, she let the heat do its work, washing away the grime, sweat, and dried blood from her skin. The cuts on her arms and legs throbbed, the bruises darkening as the water ran over them.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
After what felt like forever, she shut the water off and stepped out. The bathroom mirror was fogged up, but as she wiped it clear with her hand, her reflection stared back at her.
Naked, she took a long look at herself. Cuts crisscrossed her arms, some shallow, others deeper and still angry red. Her ribs were bruised, her skin mottled with purple and yellow. She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder, and ran her fingers over the jagged cuts on her back.
The monsters she’d fought on her first day had left a mark on her neck and a deep one on her side, and she hadn’t let herself properly recover since.
Her face however wasn't scarred. Not that it mattered. She lacked the beauty where scars would make her less attractive. You can't put seasoning on shit and expect it to taste better.
That's how she saw herself. If she referred to herself as pretty, she was simply being sarcastic or ironic.
Jennifer touched her cheek gently, watching herself in the mirror. Her reflection felt unfamiliar, and distant, like she was looking at someone else entirely.
She sighed, leaning forward against the sink. This is the cost, she thought. The cost of making money so fast. My body’s paying the price.
But who cares anyway.
The thought lingered as she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping herself in a towel. Back in the bedroom, she grabbed a pair of pants from her bag and pulled them on. She glanced at the door to make sure it was shut before tossing the towel aside and collapsing onto the bed.
The mattress felt softer than anything she’d slept on in years. She stretched out, her arms spreading wide, her body sinking into the comfort of it. The ache in her muscles eased just a little, and for the first time that day, she smiled.
Staring up at the ceiling, she let out a long breath. “I like this,” she murmured to herself, her voice soft and tired. I really like this.
---
The dream came suddenly, vivid and golden. Jennifer found herself standing in a massive mansion, its marble floors gleaming under crystal chandeliers. The room around her was grander than anything she’d ever seen—silk curtains hung in shimmering waves from towering windows, and plush rugs stretched across the vast expanse of polished stone.
A voice startled her, and she turned to see a line of servants bowing. One approached with a silver tray, offering a glass of wine. Another adjusted the hem of her flowing gown—something elegant and white, nothing like the rugged armor she was used to.
Beyond the open balcony doors, she glimpsed an enormous pool, its surface glittering under the sun. Lounge chairs surrounded it, and a gentle breeze carried the faint scent of blooming flowers.
Jennifer wandered outside, marveling at the lush gardens and the sprawling estate beyond. Everything felt… perfect. Every step she took whispered of luxury. She didn’t know how, but this was hers. All of it was hers.
She woke abruptly, the dream still clinging to her thoughts like the scent of flowers in the air. The room was dark, the faint glow of the moon streaming through the window. For a moment, she simply stared at the ceiling, the edges of the dream flickering in her mind.
Then she laughed—a quiet, breathy sound that turned into something fuller, something real. “I finally had a good dream,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head. “I always knew money mattered, but I didn’t know it was also the cure to bad and mundane dreams”