This room is… incredible. It’s even bigger than my apartment. Every piece of furniture looks antique. Is he a fan of antiques? Or maybe they’re royal heirlooms?
I walked along the edge of the bed, my fingers tracing the carved wooden post—tall, sturdy, and beautifully detailed. The craftsmanship was intricate, almost reverent, and gave off a warm, historical feel. There wasn’t a single corner of this room that looked ordinary. Everything felt like a piece of preserved history.
I stopped in front of a large vanity. The mirror was tall, framed in gold. Its reflection was crystal clear—perhaps too clear. I could see myself perfectly in it.
Whether it was my unusually sharp eyesight or something else, I wasn’t sure. I was nearsighted, after all, but now I could see everything with stunning clarity—even the small mole beneath my eye.
“What is this? I just realized I’m not wearing my contact lenses. But I can see everything… perfectly.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror longer. My eyes… they looked more alive, brighter. The brown in my irises shimmered faintly with golden flecks. I could see the pores on my face, the finest strands of hair on my forehead—everything, in such unnatural sharpness.
“Could this be a pregnancy symptom?” I whispered, panic starting to rise in me. “All of my senses feel heightened… this is strange. I’ve never heard of a pregnancy syndrome like this before.”
I stepped back, trying to take a deep breath to calm myself. But my heart only beat faster. I could hear it pounding. Not just that—I could hear the wind outside the window, the rustle of leaves, and the distant sound of footsteps… far, far down the hallway.
I stood frozen. Yes, I wasn’t hearing loud noises like people shouting or smelling the usual unpleasant apartment odors that used to disturb me. But still—this heightened sensitivity was undeniable.
It didn’t make sense. The walls were thick, the hallway long, and the sound of soft shoes tapping marble floors should’ve been impossible to hear from here. And yet… my ears picked it up, like a gentle echo, reaching far beyond what any normal human should perceive.
I wrapped my arms around myself, biting my lower lip.
“What’s happening to me…?” I whispered.
My body trembled—not from fear, but as if it were adjusting to something. Something foreign. Something that couldn’t be explained with ordinary logic.
Suddenly, a knock at the door startled me. The footsteps I’d heard were real. Someone was actually approaching this room.
I quickly opened the door. A maid stood there, pushing a food trolley. Several dishes sat beneath domed stainless-steel lids.
“I’ve brought your lunch, Miss,” the maid said politely, her voice soft and nearly expressionless.
I glanced at the trolley, then back at her. Her skin was pale, her appearance immaculate—almost too immaculate. She looked like a servant from a royal estate. Her gaze was calm, with a faint smile on her lips.
I nodded briefly. “Thank you…”
She wheeled the cart into the room and stopped near a small round table by the window. One by one, she began lifting the lids.
The scent of warm spices, broth, and toasted bread filled the air, blending with the cool atmosphere of the room. But instead of tempting me, the aroma made my stomach churn.
Nausea hit me hard.
I quickly covered my mouth and took a step back.
“Is something wrong with the food, Miss? Do you dislike it?” she asked without looking at me.
I shook my head. “No, I just… I suddenly feel sick.”
“Would you like something else? I can prepare it right away,” she said, clearly uneasy. Maybe she feared Caelan’s reprimand. She looked panicked.
“Please take all of it out. I’m not hungry right now. The smell… I can’t bear it.” I turned my face away, trying to endure the nausea.
She paused briefly, then bowed her head deeply. “Of course, Miss. My apologies.” Her voice remained calm, but I sensed a faint nervousness behind her words.
She replaced the lids quickly. Her hands were trembling slightly, though she tried to stay composed as she pushed the cart out of the room.
Before leaving, she glanced back. “If you change your mind or need anything, please press the bell on the table.”
I gave a small nod, still suppressing the nausea in my throat.
The door shut once more.
Silence returned to the room. But something had changed. The scent of spices still lingered in the air, like an invisible trace clinging to my thoughts.
I sat at the edge of the bed, hugging my knees. My heart still beat rapidly. Dizziness, nausea, heightened sense of smell, and super-sensitive hearing—these weren’t typical pregnancy symptoms. At least, not the ones I’d ever read about in any pregnancy forum.
“My body… is changing.” My voice was barely a whisper.
I looked down at my hands. The veins beneath my skin were more visible than usual. I could even feel my pulse with unusual clarity.
Was this all because of the pregnancy?
Or… was it this place?
I stood and walked slowly toward the large window. The afternoon breeze brushed my face, carrying the scent of forest and damp air.
Suddenly, I noticed a silhouette in the castle yard, near the garden. I narrowed my eyes—I wasn’t seeing things.
Someone was standing among the shadows of the trees. Too far to recognize, but I could feel their gaze. Piercing through the window. Watching me.
I swallowed hard. Who was that? Why were they just standing there?
Then, as I blinked—just once—they were gone. As if they had never been there at all.
Startled, I stepped back.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Another knock, jolting me again.
“Sierra,” came a voice from behind the door. It was Caelan’s voice. “May I come in?”
I bit my lower lip, not answering right away.
“Sierra…” he called again, softer this time, yet just as intimidating.
I stared at the door and slowly walked toward it, my hand already reaching for the doorknob.
The door opened, and there he was—Caelan.
“I heard you refused to eat and felt nauseous. Are you alright?” he asked.
For some reason, his gaze always made me uneasy. It unsettled something in me. And it felt… familiar.
“I’m just not hungry, and I’m sensitive to smells,” I answered calmly.
“Would you prefer something else? Meat, fruit, anything?” he asked. He seemed concerned—but maybe that was just my imagination. Maybe he was only worried about the baby growing inside me.
***
Aksara