"You did a lot of work here, didn't you?" I said, trying to complain while acting naturally. He seemed taken by surprise, giving me a puzzled look before he straightened up and put his smile back on. That's what you get for improvising, I thought, the thought running through my mind.
He responded lightly, "Of course. It is only expected, and Carnation's help was priceless." He turned to the girl who had been helping him. She bowed to me, and my body stiffened – the way they treated me didn't feel right, but it didn't matter. Even as she bowed, he could see the spark in her eyes.
He changed the topic with a glance at a drunk patron. "Hydrangeas is drunk as always, and has picked a fight with Peony," he remarked.
...Learning my lesson for the final time, I shut up.
He spoke again, his tone oddly lighthearted despite the seriousness of the subject. "Something you must know: tragedies, no matter how unfortunate, must wait until after the feast, as there is an important matter to deal with regarding the duchy's fate. I wish they could wait until after most issues are resolved, but this is a troubling time. And don't forget your Excellency',There will be an important meeting with most of your council Tomorrow"
Even though the topic was serious, he said it so cheerfully that nothing about this madness felt real – everything felt disjointed. I noticed something in his words, and I couldn't hold back my curiosity. I asked, "Someone is not attending?"
He looked at me in shock. His cheerful, playful demeanor completely collapsed, his tone losing all formality. He stammered, "Freya, Your Excellency? Isn't she the reason for your complicated situation today? Is your wife sick, or did I fail to hear some good news?" His eyes were unfocused.
I panicked. "Huh, yeah, no... just making sure. Now, no one else, well... not attending?" I tried to make it sound like I was the one asking the question, though my focus was elsewhere, simply keeping up appearances.
He quickly recovered, "Of course, I apologize for my assumption, Excellency." For some reason his eyes avoided mine. I tensed a bit, but I moved on. "No problem," I said, rubbing the back of my head and feeling annoyed at myself.
He then added, "Your Excellency, if you don't feel well, a walk in the palace might help you."
I left the feast hall early, and it felt as if the noise inside grew louder behind me. A small smile formed on my lips as we walked through the palace. It was beautiful and serene, filled with gardens and quiet corridors. It was surprisingly peaceful, save for a couple of guards and maids who bowed when they saw us and moved aside.
Eventually, as I sat and admired the view, a humanoid shadow — my self-proclaimed system — wouldn't give me a moment of peace. The darkness deepened and liquefied, forming words on the wall behind me. About time we continue that conversation, I thought, turning around.
Words appeared: They don't see you. Shame. Didn't think you were that naive. The thick letters mocked me with every line.
Where did that come from? I was just starting to enjoy the atmosphere, I mocked back in my mind. I didn't say it out loud, though.
It said with a sarcastic tone, "Oh, your empathy is really something." My tone was very serious, believe me.
The system continued, "Didn't they grow on you?" The words were hollow as they played in the air, knowing themselves they held no real meaning.
My mind wondered, Why the sudden straightforwardness and weird questions?
I replied, trying to keep a sense of calm, "No, I just like watching people being loud from afar. It feels good to know the door is always open, even if you don't want to enter." I said it with a feeling of long-forgotten ease and peace as I continued enjoying the view.
I thought, Not sure about the nonsense I was saying, but I do love this garden. I leaned backward, settling on a bench I found.
It answered, "Don't think anyone would dare close it anyway." The words wiggled weirdly with excitement, as if relishing a power they didn't have.
"Forget it," I said, raising my hands in surrender.
Then it spat out, "No — don't even think you're finally starting to talk about your emotions. Don't you want a chance?" The words started to surround me, manifesting in the air and demanding more.
Well, that is new, I thought, rolling my eyes.
It said, "Which one of us truly desires knowledge? Seems I truly overestimated you." I couldn't help but smile.
How the tables have turned, I thought. I nearly whistled. I was having fun for the first time in a while, and I wasn't going to let this weird thing ruin it.
It asked blandly, "Really, then who are we at war with?" The words hovered in front of me in the air—bland and boring, staring me in the eye.
"Point taken," I sighed.
It wrote, "You adapt really well." The words remained in front of me like text on a black screen that I could somehow read.
I let out a weak laugh, "Really? You call that 'well'? Wow, your standards are really low."
It continued writing without changing position: "Some eyebrows were raised, but that's fine."
I finally interrupted, "You know what? I've had enough of this chat." I wanted to end the conversation before it went in a direction I probably wouldn't enjoy.
It sneered, using a title I had let slip earlier, "Don't you want to enjoy your oh-so-great outing, Your Excellency?"
Already tired of these delusions, I snapped, "Already ruined. Answer me: what happened? Who are you? Where am I? And how do I go back? Or better yet, when is this dream finally going to end?" I was exhausted. It had been good at first — I believed it was reality — but now it just felt impossible.
On the black screen, it wrote one word, shaking: Dream???
I replied, my voice quivering, "Yeah, with you here it's probably a nightmare. That's what I get for staying up late playing strategy games." Shakiness crept into my voice, and the doubt I had buried surfaced with every word.
Then it laughed. It truly laughed — no silent, shadowy laughter, just an honest laugh, normal but filled with shock and amusement. Dark rain suddenly began to fall around me for a moment before it stopped as abruptly as it had started.
The voice said, "First things first: let's dispel that fanatical illusion of yours. And for that, we are going to pick up a knife."
"Fine," I agreed, unsure if I was stubborn or just afraid. Old feeling he remberes well returned to grip his heart — the same thing that had haunted him most of his life.
I looked into the water and saw a foreign face reflecting back at me. I muttered, "Why the different face? I definitely looked better than that." It was a lie, a bad one at that,
but I wanted any control I could muster over my thoughts — any distraction