Chapter 70: The Maid Who Sees All

The fire roared as it climbed the walls, licking at the ceiling until the marble floor began to ooze red.

The monster emerged from the collapsing throne’s shadow, its two faces flickering in the flames. One side of the face was her father—calm and cruel. The other was Vincent—his golden eyes blazing and his lips quivering with a smile that wasn’t truly his.

Both voices came from the same mouth: “Choose me…Or I will choose you.”

Camela took a step back, her skirts catching sparks. Her heart raced, and her voice trembled.

“I won’t choose either of you,” she replied.

The monster tilted its head, and both faces' grins grew wider. “Then you will be nothing.”

It stepped forward, causing the marble floor to hiss under its weight. Camela felt frozen, her back pressed against the fiery wall. There was nowhere left to escape.

And then—

A voice cut through the roar of flames. It sounded calm and sharp, it seemed to belong to a female.

“You forgot something, my lord.” the voice echoed through the hall.

The flames pulled back, creating a path. Then a figure walked through the fire, untouched by its heat.

It was the maid.

Her face was pale, her eyes were dark—the same silent girl who had followed, who had cleaned, who had watched from the shadows of the house.

Camela gasped in recognition. “You…”

The maid raised her gaze to meet Camela’s for the first time fully. Her eyes were deep and seemed to see everything.

“I see all,” the maid said softly. “And this is not just your choice, Camela. Nor his.”

The monster turned its attention toward the girl, both faces contorting in anger.

Her father’s voice thundered, “You have no place here, servant.”

Vincent’s voice layered and echoed beneath it; weak and strained. “Camela…don’t…listen…”

But the maid paid them both no regard as she walked forward until she stood between Camela and the creature. Her black dress remained untouched by the flames as she moved with her steps soundlessly.

Though her tone was calm, it resonated throughout the burning hall as she spoke:

“You’re asking her to choose between two faces of the same monster. But you forget, master. You aren’t the only one who has been watching. You’re not the only one who has written the record.”

The monster growled, flames flaring around its body. “How dare you…”

“Yes,” the maid replied calmly. “Because I have seen everything. I have always seen.”

Her gaze softened as she glanced at Camela. “And she hasn’t learned what I know yet.”

Camela felt a knot in her throat, stuttering. “What…what do you know?” she asked.

The maid gave a faint smile that was sharp rather than cruel as she replied. “That every crown, every mirror, every page…you were never meant to wear them. They were meant to break you. And yet…you still smile.”

Camela’s breath caught in her throat, and her trembling lips pressed tightly together.

The maid softly said, “That’s why I came here.”

The creature roared, its two mouths stretching wider. “Lies! She belongs to me. She always has been!”

Its hands—half lace, half flesh, lunged forward towards the maid.

But the maid simply raised her hand and the atmosphere went still instantly.

The flames bent sideways into walls. The marble floor shook slightly, and the monster’s body froze in place, its arms stopped mid-strike.

Camela’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How…how are you doing this?” she questioned.

The maid didn’t turn back to look at her, she responded by backing away. “Because, Camela…I am not just a maid.”

Her black dress rippled like flowing water. For a moment, her figure blurred—half human, half shadow.

“I am the witness…the one who sees. And the one who records.”

The monster was pushed to the limit, and both faces were snarling in anger. “You…traitor…”

The maid tilted her head slightly but her tone remained calm. “No. Observer. The world cannot deceive me…not him, not you, not even you, Camela.”

Camela flinched at the mention of her name, her voice trembling as she asked, “Me?”

Then the maid turned around to face her fully, locking her dark eyes with Camela's trembling ones.

“Yes. You, more than anyone else.”

The monster broke free from the frozen atmosphere, growling as veins of fire crawled up its neck. "Enough with the games! She belongs to me…"

The maid narrowed her eyes as she responded fiercely. "And she will never be yours."

She raised her hand again, and the flames shifted aside to reveal something hidden behind the burning walls.

A door.

An old wooden door, carved with symbols that glowed faintly red.

Camela’s heart raced. She recognized that door; she had seen it once before—in a dream, where she was falling. It was a door she had never dared to open.

Her mouth fell open as her lips parted. "Why...why is it here?" she asked.

The maid's voice dropped in volume. "Because this is where your true choice lies. Not in a crown, not in a flower, not in him. This door is the only thing that truly belongs to you."

The monster screamed and thrashed around. "Don’t listen to her! She's just a shadow! A lie!"

The maid kept her gaze fixed on Camela. "He fears it because if you open it…he loses everything."

Camela stared at the door, her heart racing so loudly it drowned out the sound of fire in her ears.

Her voice trembled as she asked. "What’s...behind it?"

The maid moved closer, her whisper calm yet firm. "What you have always hidden from yourself," she replied.

The monster's body twisted, half father and half Vincent, its laughter echoing through the walls, and spoke mockingly. "She'll never open it! She's weak!"

Camela's hands quivered as she reached for the handle of the door.

"Wait," said the maid’s voice, stopping her.

Camela froze and looked back. "Why?"

The maid's dark eyes softened slightly, but her words were as sharp as a blade. "Because once you open it, you can't close it again. You can't unsee or unlive what you'll find inside. The fire, the crown, the lace…they are nothing compared to what awaits you."

Camela swallowed hard; her throat felt tight. "Then why should I open it?" she inquired.

The maid studied her quietly for a long moment.

At last, she softly said, “If you don’t open it, you’ll always be trapped in their games. His face, his lies, his chains. Do you want to smile for yourself? Then open it. Even if it might kill you.”

The monster lunged forward again, the flames surging up. “Don't! If she opens it…we’ll both burn!”

The maid stretched out her hand, creating a barrier of air to hold the creature back. “Make your choice, Camela.”

Camela’s fingers hovered just above the door handle. Her chest trembled with unspoken sobs she couldn't let out. In a whisper, she admitted, “I’m…afraid.”

The maid leaned closer and spoke firmly, “Then open it while you’re afraid. That’s the only way to truly live.”

The monster howled in rage, struggling against invincible chains. “Daughter! Don’t! You need me! You need him!”

Camela shut her eyes tightly as her hand wrapped around the cold metal door handle.

The maid’s whisper gave her strength. “Now show him you belong to no one but yourself.”

With determination, Camela pulled the door wide open.

The fire roared and was drawn inward into the dark void beyond the door as the throne hall twisted around her—marble broke and mirrors shattered under the chaos.

The monster screamed with both its faces widening in horror. “No! No! You can’t leave me!” It lunged forward with its claws stretched out.

Camela stumbled forward into the doorway as a strong wind whipped through her hair.

The maid's voice trailed behind her—calm, soft yet filled with urgency. “Remember…once you see it, there’s no going back.”

As Camela's foot stepped across the threshold, everything changed.

The flames vanished.

The marble disappeared.

The monster's scream abruptly ceased.

And suddenly—

Camela found herself in a small, dimly lit room. A room she recognized well.

Her own bedroom.

The bed was unmade; a cracked mirror hung on the wall; her wedding dress lay crumpled in the corner of the bed.

Her father’s voice echoed softly from somewhere distant, almost human-like:

“Daughter…don’t look…”

The maid stood in the corner of the room now, her eyes fixed on Camela.

With a sharp and decisive whisper, she urged, “Look.”

Camela turned her head.

And what she saw made her scream.