Chapter 4.

Dua didn’t know how long she had been sitting there. Minutes? Hours? Time had blurred into something meaningless.

The silence in the room pressed against her ears, heavy and suffocating.

She couldn’t stay here, she wouldn’t.

Slowly, she pushed herself up from the floor, her legs slightly shaky. Her eyes moved around the room, scanning every corner like she might find a hidden door, a weakness, anything. But there was nothing.

Her gaze drifted... and stopped as it settled on the window.

A flicker of hope sparked in her chest. She rushed toward it, her steps quick but cautious, like the opportunity might disappear if she moved too fast.

Grabbing the edge, she pushed it open. Cool air rushed in immediately, brushing against her face.

Dua inhaled sharply, it was the scent of freedom to her.

She leaned forward slightly, and froze, her breath catching in her throat.

"Whoa!"

The ground was far below, too far that the height made her stomach twist. If she slipped...

Her fingers tightened around the window frame. "No..." she shook her head quickly. "There has to be a way."

She stepped back, pacing slightly, her mind racing. "Think, Dua. Think."

Her eyes darted around the room again. Bed, curtains, pillows, sheets.

She paused, then slowly turned toward the bed. "Right."

She walked to the bed, dragging the bedsheets off the mattress. Her hands moving quickly as she tied them together, knot after knot. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

She pulled at it firmly until it held tightly.

"Okay..." she exhaled, her heart pounding. "This might actually work."

Carrying the makeshift rope, she hurried back to the window and tied one end tightly around the bedpost.

She tested it again, glad that it was still strong. "Please don’t snap," she muttered under her breath.

Climbing onto the window ledge, she swallowed hard. The drop looked even worse from up here.

Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the fabric rope, her heart hammering violently against her chest.

"You can do this, Dua," she encouraged herself. "You have to."

"On three..." she whispered, taking in a deep breath.

"One..." Her grip tightened.

"Two..." Her foot shifted closer to the edge.

"Thr—" The door clicked open, and she froze, her entire body going still.

Slowly, very slowly, she turned her head.

A middle-aged woman stood at the doorway, dressed in simple maid attire, holding a tray.

Their eyes met, and a thick heavy silence filled the room.

The tray slipped from the maid’s hands, crashing to the floor. "Y-You!" the maid gasped, eyes wide in shock. "What are you doing?!"

Dua’s heart dropped. "Wait!" she blurted out quickly. "Don’t shout! Please!" But it was too late.

The maid stumbled back a step, panic written all over her face. "You can’t, you’re not allowed to,"

"I don’t belong here!" Dua snapped, desperation breaking through her voice. "Please, just... just pretend you didn’t see anything."

The maid shook her head rapidly. "I... I can’t. If anyone finds out..."

"Then help me," Dua cut in, her voice shaking. "Please… there are people waiting for me back home, a sick father."

That made the maid pause just for a second. Her eyes flickered toward the window, then back to Dua. Fear, conflict, indecision flashing in her eyes.

Dua seized the moment. "Please..." she softened, her voice barely above a whisper now. "I just want to go home."

Silence stretched between them. The maid’s lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she shook her head again. "I’m sorry. I can't help you."

Dua’s stomach dropped, her knees buckling.

"You should get that out of there," the maid referred to Dua's makeshift rope. "Get it out of there if you don't want to draw your death's date closer than it should be."

Death, the word rang in Dua's ears.

The maid walked further into the room, approaching the window to take out the makeshift rope from there.

"Why do they want me dead?" Dua asked and the maid froze.

She faced Dua, hesitation flashing in her eyes before she finally responded, "I can't tell you that."

"Why?" Dua broke. "I was taken without my permission, brought here without my permission, and now I'll be murdered without even knowing what I did wrong? Aren't you guys being unfair?" Her voice cracked.

"I'm afraid only His Majesty can answer that question of yours," the maid replied as she pulled up the rope.

"His Majesty?" Dua raised a brow, stepping closer to the maid. "Who the hell is he?" She questioned.

"King Alexander, ruler of Ashdon," the maid answered.

The maid paused for a brief second, the rope still in her hands. Her gaze lingered on Dua a little longer this time, too long.

"Ashdon?" Dua repeated, confusion deepening. "I’ve never heard of any place called Ashdon. Where even is that? And why am I here?"

The maid said nothing. She simply turned away, folding the bedsheets neatly as though nothing had happened.

"Hey, I’m talking to you," Dua pressed, stepping closer. "You brought me here, didn’t you? Or at least you know why I’m here."

The maid still didn't give any response.

Frustration bubbled up in Dua’s chest. "I deserve to know what’s going on!" she snapped. "You can’t just keep me here like some... some prisoner and expect me to stay quiet!"

The maid stilled, and slowly she turned. Her expression had changed subtly, but enough for Dua to notice.

Gone was the nervous hesitation from before, and in its place was something else. Something unreadable.

"You ask too many questions," the maid said quietly.

A strange chill crept up Dua’s spine. "I think I deserve answers," Dua shot back, though her voice wasn’t as steady as before.

The maid took a step closer. Dua didn’t notice at first.

"You should focus on something else," the maid continued, her voice softer now. "Something more important."

Dua frowned. "Like what?"

The maid took another step, and this time, Dua noticed. Her brows knit together slightly. "What are you doing?"

The maid didn’t answer, but her eyes had changed. They lingered on Dua’s neck.

Dua’s breath hitched. A sudden, unexplainable unease settled in her chest. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, taking a small step back.

The maid followed slowly, her steps measured.

"You smell..." she murmured, almost to herself.

Dua froze. "...what?"

The maid inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief second, as though savoring something. "Different."

Dua’s heart began to pound. "Okay, that’s... that’s not funny," she forced a nervous laugh, backing away again. "Whatever you’re doing, just stop."

But the maid didn’t stop, she stepped closer.

Dua’s back hit the edge of the bed, her pulse roaring in her ears. "Stay back," she warned, her voice barely holding.

The maid opened her eyes again, and this time they weren’t normal. Something dark flickered within them, something hungry.

Dua’s stomach dropped. "What... are you?" she whispered.

The maid tilted her head slightly, studying her, then a faint smile curved her lips. "You really don’t know, do you?"

Dua shook her head slowly, fear tightening around her chest.

The maid leaned in closer, so close that Dua could feel her breath against her skin. "You shouldn’t have tried to leave," she whispered.

Dua’s fingers clenched at her sides. "Don’t come any closer."

Her warning came in too late, the maid’s hand shot out, gripping Dua’s arm tightly. Dua gasped.

"You smell too good to waste," the maid murmured, her voice dropping into something darker, something inhuman.

Dua’s eyes widened in horror. "No, wait!"

The maid’s gaze dropped to her neck, and then she leaned in.