The logout screen blinked out, and I was imdiately swallowed by the silence of my fancy ass giant room in the Sonder’s mansion. No HUD, no glowing red bark veins, no screaming tanks, no boss stomping flat. Just , just my stupidly soft mattress. I need to finish my howork of writing "I will not put Hailie in danger" like 90 more tis... Fucking ’ell.
I didn’t even bother brushing my teeth or washing my face to get a grasp of reality after all that virtual reality. I belly-flopped onto the bed face-first, my cheek squishing into the pillow, my butt sticking up like so sacrificial offering to Zeus, a groan leaked out of , muffled into the pillow.
"Ughhh... dead... I’m so tired. Is this how fishes feel to move from their pond to a fishtank with insufficient oxygen?"
I had only played for, what, an hour? Or two? My throat was raw from giving orders, my brain scrambled, my eyesbag darkened (it actually had been like this since 1851) and it was only eight in the morning.
The birds outside were still singing, cheerful little bastards, while I was already wrecked.
Did you know there is a bird species called Blue-footed Booby? And Woodcock? Yeah, whoever naming these, you’re doing great, thank you for serving the community.
I wriggled deeper into the bed, letting the pillow eat my words. The room tilted a bit like I was in Inception... Okay, maybe that was my body giving up, and I just let myself sink.
The sky was white... Or is it the lightbulb of the marble roof above? I yawned and stretched like a cat, and everything just got heavy... gooey...
And then I wasn’t in my room anymore.
I was reminded of a theory where every dream you had is an alternate universe, in the vast multiverse theory.
So maybe in one of these worlds, the dream ca true.
I was back in the forest of Wroeg’s Hollow, but it wasn’t gloomy or dangerous. The trees were sugar glass, translucent and glowing, humming like soda fizz. Each leaf sparkled pink, and the ground was covered in pillows.
Literal pillows, fluffy white ones that swallowed my feet, like that one episode of Adventure Ti, that one really left an impact in about how passing a life is.
And sitting there on one of the bullets them, with hair bright ginger red, freckles dancing across pale skin, was... Oh god, Anshur! The maid... Except not in her usual uniform, she was in so ridiculous maid-dress combo of frills and thigh-highs, balancing a silver tray stacked with... marshmallows?
"Milady," she said, except her voice ca out all honey-smooth, nothing like the aristocratic bite I was used to, "I prepared your... snack."
She leaned down to offer one, and wow, the angle... her neckline just, like- hot, my brain went fuzzy.
"Snacks," I mumbled.
My dream self reached, fingers brushing hers, but then her tray tipped and marshmallows rained down. They bounced, each one booping on the forehead like soft little punches.
I laughed, she laughed. Her eyes glowed like tiny stars. Then out of the blue, the dream beca evil as she leaned closer, so close I could sll sugar and flesh, and whispered:
"You’re mine, Cory."
Her hand slid around my neck, gentle at first, then tighter, like the mory of the day she once nearly strangled on my bed.
My body shivered in so embarrassing mix of panic and thrill. The pillows underneath started to sink, and...
Sothing tickled my side.
"Mmhh... stop it," I groaned into my pillow.
Except the tickle didn’t stop, it grew sharper, crawling along my ribs, and I rembered my dream fog cracked.
I jolted up from fright, forehead first, straight into sothing solid.
"AHH-!"
"KHH!"
The impact reverberated through my skull. I blinked, dazed, the dream popping like a soap bubble.
I got a good look with one eye open, and sitting there on the floor, clutching her own forehead and wobbling backward onto her rear, was indeed, the Anshur.
Her hair was a tangled halo, freckles scattered like spilled paint, and tears were already glassing her eyes.
"What the... What are you doing here?!" My voice ca out hoarse, groggy. "What are you... Uh- sneaking into my room?! Are you trying to kill again?!"
Not that I would mind, just... Maybe consent? Safeword?
I expected her to spit back sothing sharp, rude and condescending, maybe even grab by the throat like old tis.
But instead, she rubbed her forehead, lowered her gaze, and to my horror, her lips quivered.
She started tearing up.
"Oh... oh crap. Wait. No no no, don’t cry! I didn’t even hit you that hard! Hey, my forehead’s fucked, too, see this bump? It’s Newton law, sa reaction, blah blah, we both got hurt, now I feel bad, geez."
I scrambled upright on the bed, hair sticking everywhere, heart thumping faster than it had during the raid. Anshur never cried cried before, she may scowl, she hissed, she threatened, maybe act like a K-Drama sly bitch... But tears? Tears belonged in another universe.
The silence stretched until a familiar click of heels tapped against the floor.
"What’s going on here? Didn’t I tell you to wake her up already?"
Eirlys walked in, her presence filling the room like sunlight cutting through storm clouds. Regal, precise, every gesture scread of a higher society, making my ssy posture on the bed suddenly felt criminal.
She blinked at the sight: Cory Jay Smith, yours truly, was half-sitting on bed, hair wild, pillow crease on my cheek, and Anshur on the floor sniffling with a head bump.
"Explain," Eirlys said simply.
Anshur didn’t miss a beat. She bent lower, pressing her forehead against the ground like so pitiful knight in disgrace. Her voice shook with just the right amount of trembling guilt, like she was performing sorrow.
"It was my fault, milady," she whispered, dripping martyrdom. "I tried to wake Miss Cory when I should not have. She startled and struck ... I deserve the pain. Please, do not bla her... only ."
Her tears dotted the floorboards. She looked small, fragile, even though I knew better.
"It’s not your fault, now stand up." Eirlys said with her arms crossed, before glaring at , "While you..."
Alright, I’m fucked aren’t I.
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