Chapter 5 - I'm at Home, What's the Worst that Coule Happen?

The manor rose out of the darkness like something ripped from a gothic drama—two towering floors of polished stone and dark wood, ivy crawling up the pillars like it was trying to strangle the place. Golden lamps lined the path, their glow pooling over the cobblestones, guiding me straight to the oversized front doors.

I stopped at the threshold, hand hovering over the iron knocker.

“…Do I knock at my own house?” I muttered.

Snow flicked his tail, unimpressed. “If you knock, they'll think you lost your marbles.”

“Fantastic,” I sighed. I swallowed hard, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

Warm air rushed over me, carrying scents of lavender and baked apples. The entryway was painfully bright after the forest—black-and-white marble tiles, polished to a mirror shine, reflected the chandelier hanging overhead.

Portraits lined the walls: a raven-haired woman glaring regally into the void, a stern man with greying brown hair, a young man with the same dark hair. And scattered between them—

Me.

Or, well… Raven.

Doors branched off in every direction. A grand staircase rose from the centre, crimson carpet spilling down its steps like a tongue.

Footsteps skidded across the tiles. A maid sprinted into view. She was a tiny thing with messy brown hair and bangs covering half her face. Freckles dusted her nose, eyes wide and frantic.

“Milady!” she squeaked.

Before I could move, she threw herself at me, literally wrapping her arms around me and before starting to pat, poke, and claw at every inch of exposed clothing and skin.

“Your dress... your hair... your face. Oh, Saints, you’re filthy. Should I summon a healer? Guards? Exorcist?!”

“Stop fussing,” I snapped, peeling her off like wet seaweed.

She froze. Then she dropped to her knees so fast the crack of her kneecaps hitting marble echoed through the hall.

“I... I’m sorry, milady,” she whispered. Her head stayed bowed, but I saw her blush through her bangs. “Will you punish me? I... if you want the whip, I can fetch—”

“NO.”

I stepped back so fast I hit the wall. A full-body shiver ran down my spine as she trembled like she hoped I’d say yes.

“Not. This. Time.” I shoved her gently away before she tried licking my boots or something. “Just prepare a bath.”

Her expression flickered—confusion, annoyance, then flat obedience. She bowed again, deeper this time. “Yes, milady.”

She darted away, up the stairs.

Snow snickered. “Your servant is very… committed to the villain aesthetic.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered, staring at the empty foyer. “Even my NPCs have issues.”

I took the stairs, my legs moving like they knew the route without asking me. The banister was cool under my fingers. The air smelled like expensive perfume and old wood.

“This place is a bit elegant for a grave,” Snow mused.

“That’s not funny.”

I turned left at the landing. Third door down. Stopped without thinking.

My hand hesitated on the knob. Okay… this was my room. Apparently.

I pushed the door open.

The bedroom was massive—easily three times the size of my old one, though that bar was pretty low considering I used to sleep in something roughly the size of a broom closet.

A canopy bed dominated the centre, draped in black and deep crimson, dramatic enough to belong in a villainess promo poster. A carved wardrobe with clawed feet sat against the far wall beside tall windows, their curtains drawn back just enough to let a sliver of moonlight slice across the floor. A vanity crowded with combs, bottles, and glittering trinkets, I had no idea what their use was, sat near a plush crimson sofa.

I didn’t go for the bed, although the tiredness in my limbs was urging me to. I drifted toward the vanity like I was approaching my own crime scene.

The mirror greeted me with a version of myself that made me flinch.

“Oh, hell. I definitely look like the perfect villainess.” I ran my hand across my skin and hair as if to check it was all real.

White hair stained pink plastered to a mud-streaked face. Crimson eyes that were sharp at the edges, lined with dark liner that made my eyes look even more cruel. Dress clinging to me like wet paint—ripped up the thigh almost to my hip, neckline dipping low enough that I should probably be arrested for public indecency. Smears of dirt and blood completed the look.

I looked less like a duke’s daughter and more like something that crawled out of a cursed bog to hex a princess.

A knock snapped me out of it.

The maid hovered in the doorway. “Milady, your bath is ready.”

“Snow, stay here,” I muttered.

The fox didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Are you sure?”

“I’m at home. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You really shouldn’t ask questions like that.” Snow leapt onto the bed, curled in a fluffy ball, and pretended to sleep.

I followed the maid down a hallway into a bathing chamber that looked like it belonged to royalty—and also maybe to a cult that worshipped cleanliness. Steam curled through the air, thick with jasmine and something sweet. White marble from floor to ceiling. A wash basin beneath a mirror fogged with heat. And the tub… honestly, it could comfortably fit four people. Six if they didn’t mind elbowing.

The maid moved toward me and reached for the laces of my ruined dress.

I stepped back so fast I nearly tripped. “Nope. I’ve got it. You can go.”

She froze mid-motion, then bowed. “As you wish, milady.”

“Oh... and tell everyone not to disturb me while I’m bathing.”

She blinked. “Everyone? There are only the two of us here. Your father forbade additional staff.”

Right. That sounds just like a villainess' backstory. I forced a nervous laugh. “Yes. Of course. Just… go.”

She slipped out, shutting the door behind her.

Silence settled around me like a blanket.

I peeled the dress off my skin with a wet squelch, making a face, then shoved the ruined thing into a pile on the floor. The tub steamed invitingly. I stepped in, hissing as heat wrapped around my frozen legs, then sank until water reached my chin.

The floral scent curled around me. Warmth seeped into every aching muscle. The brown tint swirling around my body was… well, not ideal, but whatever.

For the first time since waking up in this nightmare simulation, I let myself breathe.

I let myself relax.

Water lapped at my ears. My eyelids grew heavy. And I slipped under, into darkness.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Then the world snapped back into shape... and I stood in Dad’s lab.

Or what used to be Dad’s lab.

Tables overturned. Consoles smashed and broken, wires dangling like dead snakes. Shards of glass glittered across the floor like teeth. Papers soaked in something dark stuck to my bare feet.

And in the middle of the chaos lay Dad’s body.

“Dad…?” My voice cracked, small and useless.

He looked exactly as he had when I last saw him—limbs twisted wrong, shirt soaked through with blood, eyes half-open like he’d died mid-sentence.

My knees hit the floor beside him. Tears blurred the edges of everything. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve—”

“This is your fault.”

The voice wasn’t mine.

I jerked back, palms scraping the tile.

Dad’s head turned toward me. Bones grinding. His empty eyes locked onto mine.

“You killed me.”

“No.” The word tore out of me. “No, I didn’t—”

“Look at your hand.”

A cruel smile stretched across his blood-stained lips.

I looked down.

A dagger rested in my palm—heavy, cold, the metal dripping red.

I screamed and flung it across the floor. It clattered violently, echoing off the ruined lab.

“It’s a lie,” I whispered, shaking so hard I could barely breathe. “It’s not real. It’s not real.”

Dad laughed—a hollow, jagged sound that scraped down my spine. “You killed me. And you killed Alisha.”

“No!” My throat burned, but I couldn’t stop. “No, I didn’t—I didn’t—”

“She needed you,” he snarled. “You let her die.”

A scream split the air.

“Alisha!” I scrambled to my feet and bolted forward. The lab warped around me, stretching into a long metal corridor that wouldn’t end. My breath tore out in ragged gasps. My legs burned. But the scream kept coming.

Then she appeared.

Alisha stood ahead of me, bathed in the flickering red emergency glow. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, just like I remembered… except for the gaping, blood-soaked hole in her chest. Tears—thick, red tears—ran down her cheeks.

“This is your fault,” she whispered, voice trembling and venomous. “All of it.”

I reached for her, stumbling forward. “Alisha, please—”

But the floor vanished.

One second, I was running toward her, and the next, I plunged into freezing darkness.

Water crashed over me, swallowing me whole. I tumbled, weightless, limbs thrashing as icy pressure crushed my lungs. My scream dissolved into bubbles that burst against my face.

Above me—blurred by water—a shape formed.

A boy.

Dark hair plastered across a pale forehead. Eyes I knew. Eyes I should know. But the water warped everything, twisting the face into something both familiar and unreachable.

I kicked upward, reaching for him.

His mouth opened—words fighting through the distortion.

The world muffled, but his voice tore through the water, the same voice that had echoed in my mind the night everything went wrong.

“Riley… RUN!”