We walk toward the front of this floor, where the hall dissolves into an open space—half dream, half reality—that beckons like a sanctuary of books and whispered thoughts. Sunlight spills through gossamer curtains, turning dust motes into constellations that dance in the golden haze, as if time itself has slowed to admire this ethereal corner of the world.

Zoey swept her arm in a graceful arc. " Here it is, my lady."

"Is it an open space? There is no door or nothing?" I gasped, my voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber.

"There is no door,"  Zoey explained, her dress uniform rustling as she stepped forward. 

"It is not merely a room, for no one dares wander this floor uninvited. This is the lady's chamber—sacred ground where even the highest-born gentlemen must request permission to tread."

"Yes, and you would sit there and read your favorite book, my lady."  Nina's voice lilted with excitement as she gestured toward an elegant white chaise lounge positioned beneath an arched window that bathed the corner in golden afternoon light. 

Bookshelves had been carved directly into the walls, their edges adorned with delicate gold filigree that caught the light. At the center stood a massive table of polished oak, surrounded by sofa. pholstered in azure blue.

A crystal vase overflowed with pale pink peonies, their perfume mingling with the leather scent of leather-bound books arranged in careful stacks. Silk ribbons in various shades of blue and white had been artfully draped across the table's surface. 

In the far corner, another seating arrangement awaited—plush divans arranged around a small fireplace, its mantle inlaid with lapis lazuli and gold leaf that matched the intricate ceiling medallions above.

Nina's voice softened. 

" You would study here all by yourself at this table, night after night when you were young. Your sisters would be fast asleep, and I..." She hesitated, her smile faltering. 

"I would fight to keep my eyes open waiting for you to finish."

" Sometimes you and your sisters would sit here and do embroidery together," Zoey said, pointing, though her gaze didn't quite meet mine. 

"When you still lived together."

"Lady Katherine was particularly skilled,"    Nina added, her giggle hollow now. 

"She would teach you and Lady Isolde whenever she could spare the time."

I approached the furniture, running my fingers along the polished wood. 

"Is that truly how I spent my days?"  The opulence of Athene's life felt both familiar and foreign, like a dress that no longer fit.

"Yes, my lady," Zoey replied, her voice tight. 

"You loved reading and studying. And sometimes..."  She trailed off, looking at Nina. 

"Sometimes you would write poetry. Alone." Nina's voice softened with nostalgia. 

"Yeah, when your sisters were sent to the capital, you would stare at the ancient trees outside your window for hours, watching how the sunlight filtered through their leaves. You'd gaze at the sky until it shifted from azure to amber, completely lost in your own thoughts. Sometimes, I'd find you curled up on that blue sofa in your silk pajama gown, a leather-bound book dangling from your fingertips as you drifted off."    

She laughed, the sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

"You are so dreamy, my lady," Zoey added, her eyes twinkling with admiration. 

"When you sleep like that, with your golden hair spilled across the cushions and your face so peaceful, you look like an angel who's fallen asleep in our mortal world."

" Sometimes, I wonder what elaborate stories play behind those distant eyes of yours," she whispered.

What' s on your mind, Athene... 

She is just like me, I suppose. When reality cuts too deeply with its jagged edges, you can't help but retreat into the sanctuary of your imagination, where everything bends to your will.

We descended to the first floor of my supposed mansion, our footsteps echoing against the curved staircase. Each step was carved from pristine white marble, veined with silver that caught the light streaming through the stained-glass windows. The banister felt cool beneath my palm, polished to a mirror shine by generations of careful hands. So beautiful, so classy – a physical manifestation of wealth that felt both familiar and foreign to me now.

The ground floor opens into a luminous, ceremonial hall that feels both grand and serene.

The floor is laid in a polished marble, highly reflective, catching soft daylight and scattering it in gentle highlights across the space. Sunlight pours in through towering arched windows, creating shifting bands of light and shadow that glide across the tiles, giving the hall a living, breathing rhythm.

Along the sides of the hall, the ground floor is lined with abundant floral arrangements—lush roses in shades of blue, soft coral, and ivory, paired with leafy greenery. They sit in elegant planters and low arrangements, blurring the boundary between interior architecture and garden elegance, as if nature has been invited indoors.

The walls rise tall and pristine, painted in pale, cool tones—white and silvery blue—decorated with delicate classical moldings and gold accents. These subtle gilded details echo restraint rather than excess, reinforcing an atmosphere of refined luxury. It culminates in a wall of arched glass doors, their ornate frames carving the verdant garden beyond into elegant portraits. 

Light spills through them, completing the hall's luminous atmosphere. Nearby stands the staircase I've just navigated—a ribbon of white marble that curves upward, its gilded balustrade catching sunlight like a golden stream frozen in mid-pour, transforming simple ascension into visual poetry.

God…I am living in a dream, am I not?