Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound of knocking jolted me from my thoughts. I walked over to the door and opened it. It was Caelan’s assistant—Aeron.
“What is it?” I asked him immediately.
“I’m here to deliver some desserts and fruit. Master Caelan said you weren’t able to eat earlier, so he asked me to buy these for you,” Aeron replied.
I was just about to refuse when suddenly two servants appeared from behind a corridor pillar, pushing a wheeled table filled with beautiful desserts and fresh fruit slices. Their bright, tempting colors looked like they came straight out of a fairytale.
The servants gave a quick bow before pushing the cart into my room and setting it where the lunch tray had been earlier. This time, the aroma wasn’t overwhelming—it was sweet and refreshing, allowing me to breathe easier.
“All this… is for me?” I asked, still in disbelief.
Aeron nodded politely. “Master Caelan is very concerned about your well-being. He said that if heavy meals are too difficult to handle, then perhaps sweets and fruit might help replenish your energy.”
I didn’t know what to feel. Touched? Afraid? Or… suspicious?
“Why does he care?” I muttered, mostly to myself.
Aeron lifted his head slightly, and for the first time, he looked me directly in the eyes. His gaze was serious—there was something behind it. But like everyone else in this place, he was too skilled at hiding his true expression.
“Because you’re important,” he said quietly.
I stiffened. “Important? What do you mean?”
But Aeron merely gave a faint smile and bowed again. “I’ll take my leave. If you need anything, just ring the bell.”
He stepped back and signaled the two servants to follow. But before they left, he turned and added, “And… I suggest you eat, even just a little. Your body needs to adjust.”
Adjust?
That word sent another chill down my spine.
“Everyone around Caelan is seriously weird,” I muttered.
The door closed again, leaving me alone with a table full of extravagant sweets that felt far too luxurious to eat alone.
I stared at the table, then slowly sat down. I picked up a strawberry and sniffed it. Oddly enough, the smell didn’t make me nauseous. In fact, it was… inviting.
I took a bite.
Sweet, fresh, soft—absolutely delicious. It was as if every taste I’d ever known paled in comparison. And before I realized it, my hand was reaching for another. And another.
“This is really good.” I tried a slice of fruit cake topped with kiwi and red grapes. The cream was silky, the sweetness perfectly balanced, and the whole thing felt surprisingly refreshing. It wasn’t just crafted to please the palate—it felt like it was meant to soothe my mind, too.
Each bite seemed to wash away the nausea that had plagued me before. My body felt lighter, my stomach calmer.
“Why does this food feel like medicine?” I whispered to myself.
I looked back at the table. So many choices. All of them irresistible.
With every bite, my head grew lighter, my body warmer—like a gentle flow of energy spreading from my tongue to the rest of me.
“What is this…?”
But I didn’t stop eating. I couldn’t. It was like my mouth refused to stop chewing. All of this was making my heartbeat steadier, my mind clearer.
When I opened my eyes, the sky outside was already dark. I had no idea when I’d fallen asleep.
“It’s night already… How long was I asleep?” I slowly sat up, leaning back against the headboard and rubbing my face.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight slipping through the sheer curtains—just enough to make out the shapes around me.
Silence. Complete silence. I couldn’t even hear the ticking of a clock.
I turned to the window. The moon hung round and full in the dark sky, casting a silvery glow. Shadows of trees swayed gently, as if whispering secrets to one another.
I took a deep breath, but my chest felt heavy—not suffocating, but like something was pressing from within. A strange sensation, reminding me of a faint dream. As if someone had been standing in the corner of the room earlier.
I glanced around. No one was there. But my skin prickled with unease.
A faint sound broke the silence. A knock.
I turned quickly toward the door. Nothing.
I waited.
Knock. Knock.
This time, it was quicker, louder. My heart pounded. Something about this felt… wrong.
“This isn’t a haunted house, right?” I muttered to myself, even though no answer would come.
I stepped cautiously toward the door. The knocking had stopped. Driven by curiosity, I opened it.
No one.
The corridor outside was empty and still. Oddly, my usually sharp hearing seemed dulled—I couldn’t even pick up distant footsteps.
Compelled by a strange urge, I stepped out and gently closed the door behind me. I walked slowly down the hallway, alert, scanning every corner.
“Why is it so quiet?”
The corridor was long and cold. Dim wall sconces cast a candle-like glow. The air felt colder than in my room. The floor was marble, and every step I took echoed in all directions.
I walked slowly, trying to be silent, but each footstep felt too loud in the hush.
No servants. No sounds. Just the faintest tinkling noise from the far end of the hallway, making me swallow hard.
I followed it.
The closer I got, the more it resembled music. Classical music, faint and ghostly, as if from an old rusted music box.
I stopped in front of a large carved door. It was closed tight, but from the gap beneath it, a warm light spilled out, pulsing gently in time with the soft music.
My hand rose hesitantly. But curiosity won. I touched the handle—it was ice cold, like it had just come out of a freezer.
I cracked the door open. The music grew clearer. Not a music box.
A piano.
Someone was playing a piano in there. I opened the door slightly wider and peeked inside.
It was a large room with high walls and arched windows. In the center stood a grand black piano, elegant and majestic. In front of it, someone sat with their back to me, fingers gliding across the keys with a soft, beautiful touch.
The melody was filled with deep emotion—melancholy, yet strange. As if telling a story of longing and aching sorrow.
I was frozen. Couldn’t move. That music—it made my heart ache for reasons I couldn’t explain.
The figure hadn’t noticed me. Or perhaps… they had?
Suddenly, the piano stopped.
Silence fell over the entire room.
Then, slowly, the figure turned around.
And it was…
***
Aksara