## Chapter 2 — Dreams Don't Hurt… Right?
The doors closed behind us with a heavy thud.
Only then did the maids release me.
I stumbled forward and caught myself against a cold stone wall. My head throbbed painfully.
One of the maids shoved a folded cloth into my hands.
"Hold that against your forehead."
I blinked at her, not fully understanding.
This dream has very detailed side characters.
"…Thanks," I muttered anyway.
I pressed the cloth against my head.
It hurt.
A lot.
Okay.
Maybe this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams.
I shouldn't read so many scary novels before sleeping.
That must be it.
I glanced around the small servant room. Wooden shelves lined the walls. An iron lantern hung from the ceiling. Plain narrow beds stood neatly side by side.
Wow.
My brain really built an entire set.
Impressive.
The brown-haired maid crossed her arms. "What were you thinking? Looking at him like that?"
"Looking at who?" I asked.
All three of them froze.
"…The master," she whispered.
Ah.
Right.
Mr. Red Eyes.
"That guy?" I said casually. "Master? So what is this, some kind of villain novel?"
The room went completely silent.
One maid gasped softly.
The brown-haired one stepped closer, horrified. "You can't speak like that!"
Why are dream characters so dramatic?
I waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. This isn't real anyway. I mean, I might be going crazy, but the pain feels kind of real…"
They stared at me like I had truly lost my mind.
Obviously this is a dream.
I looked down at my outfit.
Look at this ridiculous uniform. I'm a maid? In my own dream I could at least be a noble.
That's annoying.
The brown-haired maid frowned deeply. "I think you hit your head harder than we thought."
Maybe.
Or maybe I'm lying unconscious somewhere and my brain decided to recreate that annoying book I was reading.
Oh right.
That novel.
My subconscious really has no taste.
"You should stay here," the maid said carefully. "We're going to clean. Rest, Iris."
They left quickly, whispering among themselves.
The room grew quiet.
I looked around again.
Wow. There's even a name tag on the shelf. And proper uniforms. This dream has continuity.
I kind of love it.
But I'm bored.
Should I explore?
Slowly, I stepped into the corridor.
"It looks scary though…"
The hallway stretched endlessly, dim and cold. My footsteps echoed softly.
After wandering for a while, I pushed open a door and stepped into the garden.
"…Wow."
It was beautiful.
Snow rested lightly over trimmed hedges. Pale winter flowers bloomed bravely against the frost. The sky above was wide and clear.
If I had better drawing skills, I'd sketch this when I wake up.
I walked barefoot over the grass.
The breeze brushed against my skin.
"It's cold," I murmured.
I sat down anyway.
The grass felt real.
Too real.
This dream is getting weird.
I leaned back, staring at the sky, and my thoughts drifted to the novel I had been reading.
"It was better than mine, no mine was better than ridiculous book!! " I grumbled.
" I'm really angry. I really don't understand how the novels of such writers can be read a lot. My heroine was strong. A soldier. Brave. Not like that Vivienne."
Crying. Trembling. ". Save me, save me."
I scoffed.
"Who even likes that kind of character ?"
"Vivienne?"
A voice spoke behind me.
I turned slowly.
Red eyes.
The master stood a few steps away, watching me.
My brain really created a handsome one.
I hope men like this exist in real life.
Since this is obviously a dream…
I did the most logical thing possible.
I waved.
"Hi."
His red eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yeah, Vivienne," I continued casually, turning back toward the sky. "All she does is cry. She acts like she doesn't want attention, but somehow every man ends up kneeling for her. If you don't like someone, just say it and move on. Why make everything dramatic? Save me. kill him. kill her. "
Silence.
I kept talking.
"And she acts like a saint. 'You should be kind and loving.' Who even says that? I never saw her actually do anything. Just talk.Talk and talk and passimg out be a woman and face or say somthing "
Still silence.
"My version was better than that ridiculous book. At least my heroine did something useful—"
Suddenly—
He laughed.
Not softly.
Not politely.
He laughed sharply, almost violently, as if something had genuinely surprised him.
I froze.
Did I complain too much?
I really need friends.
Look at me. I'm ranting to my dream's handsome Mr. Red Eyes.
His laughter slowly faded, but there was something different in his expression now.
Amusement.
Curiosity.
Something dangerous.
Before I could think further—
A sharp pain exploded in my head.
My vision spun.
Black spots filled my sight.
Oh.
I'm waking up.
That must be it.
The world tilted.
And everything went dark.
..
.
.
.
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