He shoved the last maid out of the room, slammed the door shut, and locked it with a trembling hand.
Back against the door. Deep breaths.
Then she looked down at her hands.
Small. Delicate. Feminine.
Definitely not his.
"Shit," she whispered.
She held up her hands like they might explain something. They didn't. They just looked pretty and useless.
"What the hell is happening to my body? Am I dreaming the story right now?" she mumbled, pacing in small, panicked circles. She scanned the room. Ornate furniture. Polished marble. Curtains worth more than her college tuition.
"This is... bougie as hell."
She slapped her cheeks. Nothing. Still here.
"Okay, wake up now—wake the hell up." She knocked her forehead against the wall.
Thud.
"OW—!" She reeled back, holding her head as blood began to trickle from a scratch on her temple. "Nope. Nope. Too real. Way too real to be a dream!"
Heart racing, she stumbled toward the nearest mirror, a grand cabinet-sized one framed in gold.
She looked.
And screamed internally.
Alyss Lixin Carilleo.
The tragic Extra of When the Stars Fell from the Sky. The quiet noble scapegoat. The one who dies. Horribly.
"SHIT. This can't be happening," she whispered, backing away. "I'm the freaking scapegoat. I'm literally the one who dies so the plot can cry."
On the other side of the door, maids flinched.
"Did... did she just curse?" whispered the head maid, visibly rattled.
"But she's a noble lady! She's never used such language!" gasped another, clutching her pearls.
"Should we inform the Archduke? Or the butler?" asked a third.
The head maid rapped the door sharply. "Milady? Are you alright in there?"
"Oh no," another whispered. "She locked it…"
One of the younger maids—Clara, sweet and nervous—tiptoed up to the door. "Milady?" she called gently. "Are you unwell?"
From inside: "Unwell?! I'm fucking unwell, yeah. You could say that!"
The maids exchanged looks like the sky was falling.
Clara gasped. "Is it a fever...?"
"Or possession?" another offered.
The head maid stiffened. "Milady," she said with practiced calm, "please open the door. If you are ill, we must summon a doctor."
A growing crowd of servants was now whispering in the hallway. Concern, fear, and gossip mixing into one juicy noble scandal.
"Don't come in!" Alyss shouted, pacing again. "No one is allowed to enter or we'll have a war!"
Inside, she was biting her nails like her life depended on it. "This is bad. So bad. Adult Leon is out there somewhere. That snake in a cravat..."
A mental image of Leonhardt's smug, final-chapter face flashed in her head.
She groaned loudly. "UGHHH. Nope. No thank you. I'm not dying for drama. I'm going home. I don't care how."
From the hall, a maid whispered, "Did she say... monster?"
The head maid narrowed her eyes. "She is confused. Possibly delirious."
"We should inform Master Von Lleigh," Clara said, worriedly.
The head maid nodded grimly. "And the Archduke. Immediately."
The door rattled again under her stern knock. "Milady. You must tell us what's wrong. You're scaring the staff."
Alyss wasn't listening.
Her eyes had locked onto the window.
One thought:Escape.
Still in her ridiculous silk nightgown, she marched to the window, yanked it open, and hoisted herself onto the sill like a panicked cat in pajamas.
"I swear to god if this kills me too, I'm suing the author."
And with that, she slid down.
She landed in a cascade of puffy sleeves and confused dignity... right outside the Grand Hall.
Leonhardt Von Lleigh, age seven, was sitting across from the Archduke mid-negotiation, feet dangling off the floor, trying to look like he wasn't, in fact, seven.
He was in the middle of a very serious sentence about sharing his ice garden when:
THUMP.
Alyss—hair wild, eyes wide, and bleeding slightly—slid past the open window and crash-landed on the marble floor like a fairy tale gone feral.
Everyone froze.
Leon's feet stopped swinging.
His mouth fell open.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Never in his life had he seen such an entrance.
"...Is that my fiancée?" he whispered.
The Archduke slowly turned his head, face unreadable.
Alyss, breathless, stood up slowly, brushing off her nightgown with wounded dignity. "Don't mind me. Just... taking the scenic route."
Leon stared.
She stared back.
Then she pointed a dramatic finger.
"You. Stay away from me, you tiny monster!"
Leonhardt blinked again, visibly wounded. "...But I brought flowers."
[[ 16th May, Year 25]]