Her breath came in sharp, broken gasps, her chest burning as if something had caught fire inside it.
The corridors felt too long.
Too many doors.
Too many turns.
— Joan… Joan…!
She whispered, spinning left, then right.
Where are you?
She nearly collided with two maids carrying buckets of water.
— Watch it!
Elizabeth didn’t stop.
If I take the wrong turn… it’s over.
Lucy’s words flashed through her mind.
The west wing.
The storage rooms.
She took the back stairs.
The light there was dim, the air damp, clinging to the walls like sick skin.
And with every step—
She heard it.
Footsteps.
Steady.
Measured.
Elizabeth froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.
No… not now.
She peeked around the corner.
It was Joan.
A small silver tray in her hands.
Dark glass vials.
Medicine.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened.
— Lady Joan!
Joan turned sharply.
— What is this recklessness?
— Don’t you have duties to attend to?
Elizabeth rushed forward, nearly grabbing the edge of the tray—then pulled back at the last second.
— P-Please…
— Could you wait a moment?
Joan frowned.
— Wait?
— The medicine is given on schedule.
— I know!
Elizabeth blurted it out, before her courage failed.
— But—
— The new vials from storage haven’t been checked yet.
Joan stopped mid-step.
— What do you mean?
Elizabeth inhaled deeply.
— The maid in charge of supplies—
— She said a shipment arrived today,
— and it hasn’t been fully inspected.
Joan stared at her.
— That is not your responsibility.
Think. Think.
— I know, but—
— We heard about spoiled vials last week.
A brief silence.
Then—
— Nonsense.
Joan said coldly.
— I prepare the medicine myself.
She began walking again.
Elizabeth’s heart shook.
— Wait!
— There’s something else!
Joan stopped, irritation clear on her face.
— Speak.
— Lord Adrian—
— He didn’t eat properly today.
Joan’s gaze sharpened.
— And how would you know that?
Elizabeth faltered.
— L-Lucy—
— Lucy said his tray came back nearly untouched.
Joan looked down for a moment.
— That happens often.
She moved again.
Time was collapsing.
No. No—
— Lady Joan!
— Don’t you feel like the palace is… too quiet?
This time, Joan stopped slowly.
— What do you mean?
Elizabeth swallowed.
— Since morning—
— Two maids haven’t shown up.
— The corridors are empty.
She hesitated, then lowered her voice.
— Don’t you think that’s strange?
Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating.
Then—
The clock struck.
Nine p.m.
The sound echoed through the corridor like a verdict.
Joan glanced at the small clock mounted on the wall.
— …I’m late.
Her voice was calm.
Terrifyingly calm.
She tightened her grip on the tray.
— Whatever this is, I can’t delay any longer.
She took a step toward the dark corridor.
Elizabeth froze.
Don’t go.
If you go now… you’ll see it.
She lunged forward without thinking and grabbed the sleeve of Joan’s coat.
— Please!
Joan turned, shocked.
— Have you lost your mind?!
Elizabeth’s voice trembled.
— Five minutes—just five minutes!
— Let the palace doctor see you first—
— You’ve been coughing all morning!
Joan gasped.
— You’re crossing a line!
Joan yanked her hand away harshly.
— You’re delaying me.
— Return to your quarters, or I will punish you.
She turned and walked off at once, her steps sharp and fast.
— Wait—please!
Elizabeth ran after her.
She ran like a madwoman.
Her vision blurred from exhaustion, the corridor smearing into pale shapes and shadows.
Then—
Elizabeth stopped.
As if her legs had betrayed her on purpose.
She bent forward slightly, gasping for air, her chest rising and falling violently.
Her throat burned.
Her hands trembled.
This body wasn’t built for this.
Not for running.
Not for fear.
Not for making decisions that could change another person’s fate.
Joan was still ahead of her.
Walking steadily.
Quickly.
Confidently.
As if she were heading toward an appointment she already knew.
She grew farther away.
Slowly.
Then—
The thought slipped in.
Why am I doing this?
Elizabeth froze.
If I save her… what do I gain?
I won’t return to my world.
My fate won’t change.
I’ll still be a weak maid in the palace of a serial killer.
Her heart shook.
Worse—
I might draw his attention.
She lifted her head.
Joan’s shadow was swallowing the corridor ahead.
In the novel…
Joan’s death wasn’t important.
She was just a detail—
a trigger used to justify Adrian’s descent.
No one mourned her for long.
A sharp pain pierced Elizabeth’s chest.
Do I even have the right… to change that?
Her thoughts spiraled.
— If I interfere…
— I might die before her.
— Or be killed instead of her.
— Or become the witness that never existed.
She remembered Adrian’s eyes.
Calm.
Pale.
Empty of regret.
He doesn’t kill out of rage.
He kills because he can.
She clenched her hand.
Running away is the logical choice.
One step back.
Then another.
If I turn back now…
I’ll survive.
I’ll live.
I’ll hide inside the text—just like every smart side character does.
But—
Another voice rose inside her.
Lower.
Heavier.
And what does death mean to you?
She remembered the thought she’d had earlier.
The way her eyes had lowered as she wondered—
Was death simply an ending?
Or the moment someone finally sees you?
She looked up.
Joan had stopped in front of the wing’s door.
Her hand rested on the handle.
Just one second.
If she goes in… it’s over.
Elizabeth trembled.
She didn’t run.
She didn’t scream.
But she stepped forward.
Then another step.
Slowly.
It was the staircase.
Short—
yet it felt longer than her entire life.
Just one step separated her from the forbidden wing.
From the room no one ever left unchanged.
Elizabeth saw Joan’s hand—
that rough hand worn down by years of labor—
close around the door handle.
⚠️ Click.
In that instant, Elizabeth’s heart convulsed like a trapped animal.
Her eyes widened,
and the scene exploded inside her mind without permission—
Blood.
A suffocating silence.
Joan’s body collapsed, stripped of dignity.
Adrian standing there, calm, composed—
drinking his medicine moments later
as if nothing had happened.
She gasped.
No—
No—
Not again.
Her limbs trembled.
A cold crept up her spine.
Her knees nearly gave out beneath her.
Then—
She placed her foot on the first step.
The wood let out a faint creak.
A sound sharp enough to expose her if anyone turned.
Joan is loved.
The thought struck her brutally.
Everyone here loves her.
Even the maids she scolds.
Even Lucy.
Even me—though I’ve known her for only a day.
Her thin fingers dug into the edge of the stair.
In my previous life…
I mocked people who helped others.
Called them fools.
Said, “Why get involved?”
A warped smile tugged at her lips.
I was selfish.
I always chose my own survival.
She lifted her head.
Joan’s back disappeared into the room.
The door was still open.
Time was melting.
Elizabeth placed her foot on the second step.
Her heart pounded wildly.
Just once…
I’ll do something that doesn’t benefit me.
She breathed in.
Just once…
I’ll try what it feels like to be the savior.
If I die…
let it be while I’m trying to be human.
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