If the marquise's bedroom could be considered a place of rest, then the hallway was, without a doubt, an absolute disaster.
Mara came to an abrupt halt the moment she stepped past the threshold, letting the door close silently behind her.
The corridor—which under any other circumstances should have been a pristine display of elegance and order—was now completely unrecognizable.
Clothes were strewn everywhere, as if the night itself had torn garments from bodies and discarded them without a second thought.
Torn gala dresses, lone high-heeled shoes, unlaced corsets, and silk stockings hung from picture frames, creating a scene that was chaotic and almost surreal.
The floor, layered with overlapping garments, gave the impression that someone had emptied an entire wardrobe into the middle of the hallway and simply walked away.
And, of course, there were the women.
Several naked women slept peacefully along the corridor, utterly oblivious to the disorder surrounding them.
One was curled up against a porcelain vase, her skin contrasting strangely with the object's polished white surface.
Another lay face-down in the middle of the passage, forcing Mara to take a long step to avoid stepping on her.
A third leaned against the wall, her head tilted at an angle that looked uncomfortable at first glance, yet somehow didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.
I wish I could wake up like this every day, Mara thought with mild cynicism. No worries, no responsibilities… just chaos, and nothing else.
Rather than unsettling her, the scene stirred a growing sense of curiosity.
If the hallway leading to the bedrooms looked like this, she didn't even want to imagine the state of the rest of the mansion. Dahlia's "party" clearly hadn't left a single corner untouched.
With that thought in mind, Mara began to walk forward, carefully navigating the remnants of the night while feeling the cold marble beneath her feet wherever the carpet failed to reach.
As she advanced, the true scale of the event became increasingly apparent.
At every turn, in every decorative alcove, there were unmistakable signs of what had taken place overnight.
She came across two women sleeping in each other's arms on a carved wooden bench, their bodies intertwined so naturally that it seemed almost intimate even in rest.
A little farther on, she spotted another woman who looked as though she'd tried to reach her room but had given up halfway, falling asleep draped over a side table with her head lolling to one side.
Mara continued down the main staircase, noticing how the disorder not only persisted but intensified as she descended.
The steps were littered with more clothes, more shoes, and among it all, what appeared to be a diamond necklace abandoned on one of the stairs.
She briefly wondered whether someone would come looking for it upon waking—or if it would remain there as a permanent souvenir of the previous night.
It's fascinating, she reflected as she reached the main vestibule. All these people, with their titles and pretensions, reduced to this. It's honestly funny. I'd love to attend more events like this. It's as if the world stops, and only the present moment matters.
The vestibule itself was a spectacle of elegant desolation.
The crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling remained intact, gleaming in the morning light, yet everything else looked as though it had been touched by chaos itself.
Overturned wine glasses rested atop marble tables, leaving dark stains that would probably never fully disappear.
Food remnants were scattered everywhere: half-eaten fruit, crumbled cheeses, pastries that had clearly been trampled.
The air was thick with a heavy blend of stale alcohol, expensive perfume, and something else Mara preferred not to analyze too closely.
To the right of the vestibule, the sitting room offered an even more desolate view.
Several women slept in tangled heaps across rugs and divans, their naked bodies forming a chaotic mass of limbs and disheveled hair.
One lay sprawled over a red velvet sofa with an arm dangling toward the floor, while another had curled up in a corner, using a decorative cushion as an improvised pillow.
Mara counted at least six women in that room alone, all of them sleeping deeply, completely cut off from the outside world.
Still, in the middle of her observation, her stomach growled again—this time forcefully enough to make it cramp slightly. Hunger was beginning to dull her almost artistic appreciation of the chaos.
Vaguely recalling the mansion's layout from when she'd arrived, Mara decided that the kitchen would be her top priority.
In a house that large, there had to be food—or at the very least, some early-rising cook already preparing something.
With that in mind, she headed toward the service wing, quickly realizing that even this area hadn't been spared from the aftermath.
The corridor leading to the kitchen was littered with empty bottles, some tipped over, others simply abandoned on the floor.
She spotted a half-finished bottle of wine resting on a pedestal and, without overthinking it, took a long drink.
The liquid was lukewarm and slightly bitter, but it gave her just enough of a boost to keep moving.
Food first, then find Alice… or maybe I'll explore a bit more, she thought with a mischievous smile.
She continued toward the kitchen, stepping around one last woman sleeping peacefully in front of the service door.
Completely naked, she was curled in a fetal position against the wall, her face wearing an expression of absolute serenity.
For just a moment, Mara wondered if she should wake her—but quickly dismissed the idea. If the woman was comfortable enough to sleep on the cold floor of a service hallway, then it wasn't her problem.
Mara opened the kitchen door carefully, mentally bracing herself for whatever she might find at the culinary heart of Dahlia's mansion.
The scent that greeted her was a mix of cooked food, spices, and something slightly burnt.
The kitchen was enormous, outfitted with multiple workstations and a pantry that seemed to stretch endlessly.
Even so, chaos had left its mark here as well.
Dirty dishes were piled across the tables, food scraps littered the floor, and bottles of wine and liquor were scattered without any semblance of order.
In one corner, she found two more women sleeping—this time atop stacked sacks of grain.
One of them still clutched an empty wine glass in her hand, as though she'd fallen asleep mid-sip.
Mara approached the pantry and opened the door carefully. Unlike the rest of the kitchen, the inside was relatively intact—a small oasis of order amid the devastation.
Fresh bread, cheese, fruit, cured meats… everything a hungry person could want.
She grabbed some bread and cheese and began eating, biting into them with satisfaction as she surveyed the rest of the room.
This is incredible, she thought while chewing. One night of partying, and the entire mansion ends up like this. I wonder how long it'll take to clean everything. Probably days.
She continued eating as she explored the kitchen, opening cupboards and discovering even more food.
There were fruits in a basket, pastries laid out on a tray, and even what looked like a whole ham hanging from a hook.
Mara allowed herself a moment of pure contentment.
This was living.
This was what power and wealth meant: waking up in silk sheets, surrounded by beauty, and then having access to as much food as you wanted without worrying about anything else.
After eating enough to calm her hunger, she decided it was time to explore a bit more.
She wanted to see just how far the disorder truly extended—to confirm with her own eyes that the entire mansion had been left in this state of total abandonment.
Leaving the kitchen behind, along with the two sleeping women, she headed toward the main dining hall.
The dining room was enormous, with a table large enough to seat around thirty people. Yet instead of being clean and empty, it was covered in the remains of the feast.
Dirty plates, overturned glasses, and napkins strewn across the floor occupied nearly every inch of space.
And, unsurprisingly, more women slept there as well: one beneath the table, another slumped in a chair with her head resting against the wood, and a third curled up in a corner using a tablecloth as an improvised blanket.
Mara continued her tour, passing through the library next, where she found even more women asleep among the books, and finally reaching the ballroom—the true epicenter of the chaos. Bodies covered the floor, some alone, others in clusters.
Clothes hung from crystal chandeliers, shoes were scattered everywhere, and the scent in the air was so intense that Mara had to breathe through her mouth.
This is… a lot, she thought as she took in the view. But it's also beautiful, in a strange way. All these people, without inhibitions, without worries. Just living in the moment.
After touring the ballroom, Mara decided she'd seen enough. Her curiosity was satisfied—and so was her hunger.
Now all she needed was to find Alice and decide what to do next. Still, before that, she felt she'd earned a bit more rest.
Perhaps she'd return to Dahlia's bedroom… or maybe she'd find another comfortable spot to sleep for a while longer.
As she walked back toward the bedroom wing, Mara couldn't stop smiling.
Life was strange, unpredictable, and utterly wonderful.
Just a month ago, she'd been naked on the streets—now she was wandering through a marquise's mansion after a night of unrestrained pleasure.
If that wasn't proof that the god she served had a twisted sense of humor, then she didn't know what was.