As I slowly emerged from the depths of slumber, my body felt like it had been put through a wringer, battered and bruised by an invisible force.
My eyes, heavy with the weight of exhaustion, creaked open like rusty gates, revealing an unfamiliar ceiling that seemed to stretch on forever.
The ceiling was a masterpiece of ornate design, with intricate patterns and gilded accents that shimmered like the sun on a summer morning.
My gaze wandered, drinking in the opulence that surrounded me.
The room was a symphony of luxury, with lavish furnishings and decorations that seemed to belong in a royal palace rather than a humble abode.
The space was vast, with a ceiling that seemed to disappear into the clouds, and walls that stretched out like the arms of a giant, embracing me in their grandeur.
Saying the room was larger than my own bedroom times three was a gross understatement – it was a cavernous expanse that seemed to swallow me whole.
The bed I lay on was a cloud-like haven, soft and yielding beneath my weary body.
The mattress was a masterpiece of comfort, with layers of plush padding and supportive springs that cradled me in its gentle embrace.
The sheets were a silky smooth delight, sliding across my skin like a summer breeze on a hot day.
The bedframe itself was a work of art, with carved wooden posts that rose like sentinels from the floor, supporting a canopy of delicate lace that filtered the light like a misty dawn.
As I struggled to sit up, my gaze fell upon a room that was a treasure trove of wonders.
There were tapestries that hung like vibrant paintings on the walls, depicting scenes of myth and legend that seemed to come alive in the flickering candlelight.
The furniture was a masterclass in craftsmanship, with delicate carvings and intricate patterns that seemed to dance across the surfaces.
And everywhere, there were flowers – great bouquets of them, arranged in vases that sparkled like diamonds in the dim light.
But despite the beauty that surrounded me, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach.
Where was I? How did I get here? And why did everything feel so... Familiar & unfamiliar at the same time?
I stumbled out of the bed, my mind racing with questions, but my body seemed to have other plans.
I staggered across the room, my vision blurring, and my legs turning to jelly.
I face-planted onto a elegant vanity desk, the kind ladies used to primp and preen.
The desk's surface was a mess of crystal bottles, silver brushes, and delicate porcelain containers.
As I raised my hands to support myself, my gaze fell upon the mirror attached to the desk.
And that's when I saw him – a teenager in his late teens, with hair as white as freshly fallen snow and eyes as blue as a clear summer sky.
His features were chiseled, with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and full lips that curled into a perpetual smirk.
At first, the face staring back at me seemed... familiar.
I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something about those piercing blue eyes and that mischievous grin that tugged at my memory.
I reached up, hesitantly, and touched my face, as if to confirm that the reflection in the mirror was indeed me.
And then, like a whisper in the wind, memories began to stir.
I remembered seeing this face before, but where? It wasn't until I recalled the countless hours I'd spent playing "Eternal Realms" that the truth began to dawn on me.
This face... it was the face of Eden Prairie, the minor villain from the first arc of the game.
My mind reeled as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
I stumbled backward, my eyes wide with wonder and terror.
"I'm... I'm in the game?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
I looked around the room again, and this time, everything seemed to make sense.
The luxury room, the silky bed, the well-designed furniture – it all belonged to Eden Prairie, and by extension, his father, Lord Stark Prairie.
I muttered the words to myself again, as if trying to convince myself of the absurdity of it all.
"I'm in the game... I'm in the game..." And then, as the reality of my situation sunk in, I yelled it at the top of my lungs. "I'M IN THE GAME!!"
I stumbled around the room, my hands clutching at my hair as if trying to rip it out.
"What the actual fuck?! How is this possible?! Did I somehow get sucked into the game?! Am I dreaming?! Am I dead?!"
The questions swirled in my head like a maelstrom, each one more ridiculous than the last.
And yet, as I looked around at the opulent furnishings and the elegant decor, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was meant to be here.
That I was meant to be Eden Prairie, the villainous son of Lord Stark Prairie.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I stumbled toward the bed, my legs trembling beneath me.
"What have I gotten myself into?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own ragged breathing.
I let out a shaky and frustrated laugh, the sound echoing off the opulent walls as the absurdity of my situation dawned on me.
"Really, I'm fucked," I muttered, my voice laced with a mix of desperation and dark humor.
One moment, I was snug in my bed, basking in the blissful ignorance of sleep.
The next, I found myself catapulted into a world that was equal parts fantastical and terrifying – a world that was, quite literally, a video game.
"Come on!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation.
"Someone's definitely messing with me!" I tried to convince myself that this was all some elaborate prank, a clever ruse designed to push me to the edge of sanity.
I glanced around the room, my eyes scanning the space for any sign of hidden cameras or cleverly concealed observers.
But there was nothing – just the eerie silence of a room that seemed to be holding its breath.
"Hello!" I called out, my voice echoing off the walls as I turned around the extravagant room once more.
"Is no one really there?" The silence that greeted me was oppressive, a heavy blanket that suffocated me with its weight.
My mind recoiled in horror as the reality of my situation sunk in.
I wasn't just in any video game – I was in "Eternal Realms", a game notorious for its brutal difficulty and merciless storyline.
And I wasn't just any character – I was Eden Prairie, a villain who died early in the first arc of the game.
A chill ran down my spine as I thought about the implications.
I was a villain, a character destined to fail, to die, and to be forgotten.
I was a pawn in a game that was rigged against me, a game that would stop at nothing to crush me beneath its heel.
Terror clawed at my heart, its icy fingers wrapping around my chest like a vice.
I was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, a labyrinth of pain and suffering with no escape in sight.
I stumbled backward, my legs trembling beneath me, and collapsed onto the bed.
My mind was a jumble of emotions, a chaotic mess of fear, confusion, and despair. I couldn't think straight, couldn't process the enormity of my situation.
All I could do was sit there, frozen in terror, my eyes wide with fear, as the silence closed in around me like a shroud.
As I sat there, the silence was suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps approaching the room door.
A soft, melodious voice called out from the other side,
"Young master, are you alright? You've been in your room throughout the morning, and it's already reaching into the afternoon.
Do you require any medical assistance? I can call for the family's doctor to come and check up on you."
The voice was like a warm breeze on a summer day, soothing and gentle.
But I was in no mood to appreciate its sweetness.
My mind was still reeling from the shock of finding myself trapped in a video game.
I murmured to myself, "So, I've been here for quite a while now, eh?"
The maid's concern was palpable, even through the door.
I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, and replied in a voice that was hopefully steady,
"You can go, I'm fine. Thanks for your concern. I'm just having a bad day getting up from bed."
There was a pause on the other side of the door, and for a moment, I wondered if I had convinced her.
But then, the maid replied curtly, "Very well, young master.
If you require anything, please don't hesitate to call."
Her tone was polite, but there was a hint of skepticism underlying it, as if she didn't quite believe my reassurances.
As the maid's footsteps receded into the distance, I let out a sigh of relief.
But it was short-lived, as the reality of my situation came crashing back down on me like a ton of bricks.
"Yep!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air. "It's confirmed! I'm definitely here in the game Eternal Realms, and I'm a third-rate villain!"
The absurdity of it all was too much to bear. I felt like I was trapped in some kind of bizarre, never-ending joke.
And with that, my legs gave out from under me, and I face-planted onto the floor with a resounding thud.
The last thing I remembered was the feeling of cool marble beneath my cheek, and the sound of my own voice, whispering, "This is insane... I'm insane..."
*****
As Melissa, the head maid, a woman in her mid-30s, with a slender yet athletic build, walked with a quiet confidence that belied her humble position.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a neat bun, revealing a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Her bright green eyes sparkled with a hint of Confusion , despite the concern etched on her face.
She wore a simple yet elegant black dress, with a white apron wrapped around her waist, adorned with intricate lace trimmings.
Walking onward, her curiosity lingered, refusing to be shaken off.
She had just left the young master's room, and his unusual behavior had left her puzzled.
"He didn't shout or respond the way he used to, laying curses and threatening to have me, and every other poor soul he deemed beneath him, drawn and quartered," she thought to herself, a hint of amusement dancing on her lips.
"He even sounded polite.
Am I imagining things?" She let out a wry chuckle, recalling the countless times the young master had made her life, and the lives of the other servants, a living hell.
As she turned a corner, the grandeur of the estate unfolded before her.
She approached a massive door adorned with intricate carvings of lions and eagles, symbols of power and strength.
The door was imposing, with heavy iron hinges and a large, old-fashioned keyhole.
A small, elegant sign on the door read
"Duke's Study".
Melissa knocked on the door, and a deep, commanding voice bade her enter, without calling out her name, his tone devoid of any warmth.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside, curtsying low.
The room was a study in contrasts to the young master's opulent bedchamber.
Instead of lavish furnishings and decorations, the room was neat and tidy, with every item in its appointed place.
The walls were lined with tall, leather-bound bookshelves, stretching all the way to the high ceiling.
The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and ink.
At the far end of the room, behind a massive, ornate desk, sat the master of the estate.
Lord Stark Prairie, the Monarch of War, also known as the "Scourge of the Battlefields" or the "Dark Lord of the Realm," sat with his eyes fixed intently on the papers in front of him, his gaze never wavering.
His face, chiseled from granite, seemed to embody the very essence of power, its lines and creases etched into his skin like the lines on a well-worn map.
Eden, the young master, bore a striking resemblance to his father, with the same piercing blue eyes and chiseled features, but with a mischievous spark that seemed to dance in his eyes.
However, Lord Stark Prairie's hair was a stark white, a trait that seemed to be a hallmark of the Prairie family.
His presence was imposing, exuding an aura of quiet confidence and authority.
He seemed to be a man shrouded in mystery, his eyes gleaming with a hint of secrets untold.
As Melissa stood before him, she felt a shiver run down her spine.
She had always been wary of Lord Stark, with his piercing gaze and imposing presence.
She knew that he was a man not to be trifled with, a man who commanded respect and inspired fear.
Without looking up from his work, Lord Stark Prairie uttered a single, commanding word:
"Speak."