I have grown accustomed to waking up to the unfamiliar ceiling.
“…Wait, am I alive?”
For a few minutes, I lay there under the grand canopy, embroidered with luxurious designs, my thoughts scattered as the first light of dawn illuminated the room, and then I realized I was alive. I had assumed I was dead. Even though I had been rescued midway, having both an arm and a leg twisted off is certainly life-threatening. No matter who came to help—some noble individual—the treatment to regenerate lost limbs isn’t permitted without the Magic Academy’s approval. Even if Lady Cecilia, who is a cleric, were there, I’ve heard limb regeneration is an incredibly advanced miracle, thus the chances were slim. I don’t even know the extent of her clerical abilities.
The injury wasn’t something that could merely be patched up to keep me alive, so I had thought for sure that my life had ended…
“What is this? Are they growing back?”
I have no idea what kind of cheat this is, but the limbs that were supposed to have been torn off by that strange noble’s technique are nonchalantly back in place as if nothing happened.
I hesitantly moved them, but there was no sense of unease, no pain. When I lifted the nightgown—whose impeccable stitching made me fear thinking about its cost—I found not a single scar or even a scab on my skin.
The same went for my legs; the nerves went all the way down to my toes, moving as I intended.
“…I’m not having trouble breathing either.”
Relieved, I took a breath and realized the rib fractures that had caused such discomfort before were healed. As I gently touched them, there was no pain or numbness assaulting my lungs. Running my hand over my slightly strengthened abdomen, the arch of my ribs, which protect the organs, was undisturbed.
It was as though I might have been placed under some illusion and merely dreamt about the intense battle; there was no trace of abnormality in my body. The only things to note were how terribly hungry and thirsty I was, and perhaps a slight dizziness.
Then again, I haven’t eaten anything since lunch, so it’s probably just hunger.
And where am I anyway?
At any rate, given the situation where thinking won’t produce answers just yet, I took a calm look around the room, and things seemed quite complex. The bed I was lying in was grand, adorned with a canopy, and surrounded by a see-through curtain separating the interior from the outside. The nightgown I had been dressed in was lavish, and the mattress, upon touching, was a high-end product with springs—I’d heard that such things existed among the affluent—and the quilt, filled with fine wool, was of the highest quality. The touch alone made me want to bring these items home, and it was clear that only a member of nobility could have assembled such luxuries.
Moreover, this bed was so large that a few people could roll around and “play” without worry. It must belong to a noble family of considerable authority. An ordinary house wouldn’t need such a massive bed no matter how much money they spent.
There were several plausible scenarios in my mind, but since contemplating them wouldn’t change the situation, it’s like any TRPG; the key rule is to observe the surroundings. GM, what do I see around me?
While thinking through incomprehensible jokes to no one in particular, I noticed a handbell placed beside the bed, with a memo neatly written in elegant handwriting, simply asking “Are you awake?”
Ah, so I’m supposed to ring it when I wake up. Thank you for such a straightforward mechanism.
I picked up the expensive-looking golden bell and gave it a shake.
“…What?”
But there was no sound. Curious, I flipped it over and discovered that the clapper—the part that produces the sound when it hits the bell—was missing. Upon closer inspection, however, there was a meticulously carved magical array.
The details were truly expensive.
While marveling at the structure for a moment, there came a gentle knock at the door. But even after waiting a bit, the door didn’t open, and it took me about a minute to realize—ah, I have to grant permission to enter.
“Uh… Come in?”
My nerves caused my voice to rise awkwardly. What more could one expect? I’m your typical commoner who understands the culture of nobility, but when it comes to being party to such high-class matters, my brain simply freezes.
“I humbly apologize for the intrusion.”
The door opened quietly, and there appeared a maid of impeccable elegance.
Wow, a maid, a real-life maid! And not just any maid, but a magnificent Victorian-style one of the highest quality. Decked in a simple black long dress with cuffs and modestly adorned with frills on her apron, her hair was neatly tied back beneath a cap, presenting a faultless image of a maid.
Her milky-white skin, emerald eyes, and soft brown hair framed an adorable childlike face. Ah, I can feel my mood rising.
Now, regarding the servant system in the Threefold Empire, it’s a rather complex mix of feudal customs and modern employment relationships.
Nobles tend to have entire families serving them through generations or welcome the eldest sons and daughters of other noble families for etiquette training, with these more established servants often becoming house stewards or butlers. Lower-status servants, brought in from the countryside to work as indentured labor, are guaranteed and compensated through manor protections or reduced taxes.
On the other hand, merchants or wealthy farmers maintain purely employment-based relationships with their servants, where they may offer training to those initially taken in as apprentices. These relationships are more about payment and interpersonal dynamics than old feudal bonds.
This difference becomes especially apparent at the Magic Academy, where the quality of servants employed by mages of noble birth is markedly different from those hired by mere financially wealthy mages.
The former hire commoners like myself or urban citizens from the Imperial Capital, while the latter employ servants from well-established noble families or even thoroughbred servant lineages, creating an atmosphere entirely distinct from the former. Every aspect of their conduct is refined enough for the most noble of gatherings, their courtly language impeccable, truly embodying servants born to serve the highborn.
The gap between hastily educated commoners and seasoned upper servants is akin to the difference between a draft horse and a warhorse.
Observing her… wow, I’ve ended up in an incredibly high-class household.
Her bearing, speech, the quality of her attire—without a doubt. Moreover, upon closer inspection, her pointed elf-like ears peeking through her hair reveal her as a member of the Long-lived Species. A house employing members of the Long-lived Species as servants—what kind of prestigious residence is this!?
“It is a relief to see you have awakened. I am Kunigunde. I have been entrusted by my master to attend to your care, so please feel free to command me.”
“Uh… Yes.”
Despite my efforts to maintain composure, all I could manage in response to her near-perfect courtly language was a single word. Moreover, she was using the highest form of address meant for esteemed guests, not someone without official rank or title like me, making it hard for my brain to process.
What on earth happened to me?
“First, allow me to assist with your morning preparations. If I may.”
Her silk-gloved hands moved gracefully, and from the cart I hadn’t noticed—too fixated on the maid—a basin of water floated with a wet cloth for washing my face, followed by my hair being combed. My hair, which had grown quite long, was being brushed, and hair oil was even being applied—a situation so abrupt I was unable to react.
“Truly magnificent hair you have. Is there anything you need?”
“Huh? No, nothing in particular…”
Really, if I must say, fairies could bless it, right? But more importantly, being seated and having my hair combed from the front, being so close to her excessively beautiful chest, was not doing wonders for my nerves. Fortunately, no mischief occurred from my grogginess or potential anemia, but fleeting thoughts of pretending to bury my face crossed my mind—legal in this situation, right?—which was utterly foolish.
With my mind a mess of such thoughts, I had somehow been dressed in clothes and returned to leaning against the bedside when a breakfast table was prepared.
“I apologize we could not adequately prepare a proper meal, given we were unsure when you would awaken. However, if you give me instructions, I will prepare whatever is reasonably possible. Is there anything you desire?”
“Simple…?!”
The impeccable aroma of black tea, the croissants not found in the common market clearly baked fresh that morning, the boiled sausages with herbs only the upper classes could easily get, and the honey-covered cheese so exquisite it could only be found at festivals—labeled as “simple” made me wonder what regular food I eat is considered.
This is why the bourgeoisie frustrates. Who’s got a sickle and hammer handy?!
“If you find it too heavy, we could offer you warm water or a grain porridge.”
Staring blankly at the spread, I was offered these alternatives out of concern for my condition, and hurriedly declined, gratefully accepting instead. Whatever was happening, it’d be shameful to let imperial black tea grow cold.
As I silently ate, the maid, Kunigunde, stood by, observing.
Her presence was so discreet that stepping back even a foot made her almost untraceable. She was skilled, naturally applying magic, probably from mastering the “Magic Servant” profession category I had once seen before. Such refined servants fit to serve nobility are unsurprisingly from elite bloodlines…
“While Lady and the Princess are still resting due to the sunlight, you may relax here until it is time to rise.”
Still grappling with my shock from the lavish breakfast and unable to fully regain my composure, she told me this.
Upon hearing “Princess,” pieces started falling into place. Though I denied it upon waking, it seems I survived thanks to her. Remembering the scene from the brink of unconsciousness, realizing it wasn’t a mere wishful hallucination, I almost sighed audibly.
“…Ah, no, wait!”
Thinking she’d left, Kunigunde touched her temple and closed one eye.
That gesture was familiar—done when someone unexpectedly receives telepathic communication or to better focus on a mental impression. Clearly, she was receiving a message from her mistress.
“Apologies. It seems it’s too late.”
“What? Too late for what?”
Before I could ask, the door dramatically swung open.
“Are you awake, boy?! Splendid indeed!!”
The door opened with such force it felt like a battering ram had struck. There stood a strikingly beautiful woman who had, that night, thwarted the masked noble’s attack—her crimson eyes and raven-like black hair stunning in her toga. Today, instead of the imperial purple toga, she wore a scarlet one, a color only permitted to the nobility.
The tipped door was pushed aside as she strode confidently in, her Long-lived servant lowering her head, shaking it almost in surrender, stepping back as if to say “I can’t do anything more now.”
“Phew, last night was quite the ordeal, wasn’t it? Rushing to find you near death with your magic transmission device, my dear niece was worried sick and wouldn’t leave, and your bumbling uncle was screaming his head off. I considered half-killing him—it was too noisy—but he wouldn’t stop, so I just wanted to go back.”
The woman, resembling Lady Cecilia but strikingly more intimidating due to her upward-slanting willow eyebrows, casually sat on the bed where I was seated. Though similar in features, her captivating beauty contrasted with Cecilia’s ethereal charm.
Being so closely inspected by such elegance left my just-settled thoughts in disarray once more.
Certainly, if Lady Cecilia grew up into something similar, it would be hard for her to surpass the raw vampire allure displayed here. Her sharp nails traced beneath my jaw as she smiled in a mocking yet distinctive way.
Her archaic speech patterns slithered into my mind like serpents, irritating my nerves.
Certainly, this was charisma in action—every movement, every word etched indelibly into memory, projecting the aura of a powerful leader capable of driving others forward with force, yet dangerously close to becoming a tyrant, possessing the weight of history incarnate sitting before me.
“So, my fragile favorite niece. Do you have any questions?”
Unable to resist the velvety tone which turned suggestive inquiry into an undeniable command, I opened my mouth—
“Why are you not wearing anything underneath?”
—No, it’s bound to raise eyebrows, right? Considering the toga is just a long cloth draped over the body with typically something underneath, the fact that there was nothing underneath stood out. Hence, I repeated it twice.
My muddled thoughts, battered by her overbearing charisma, boiled over into this curiosity. I know other important questions abound—like why am I here, what happened yesterday, or even the matter of regrowing my limbs—but…
The questioning glares from Kunigunde were palpable, but the near-naked vampire, only momentarily stunned, answered as if it was the most obvious thing.
“Because, appearing this way makes me look my best!!”
Like a grand opera performer showcasing her art, she used dramatic gestures to display her physique.
Her lithe limbs, curvaceous figure, and flawlessly sculpted skin free of any blemish created an alluring beauty as the toga artfully covered the key parts. If solidified, it would surely become the centerpiece of any museum, drawing in countless admirers.
“Ah… um… yes… You look exceptionally beautiful.”
“Yes, yes, you do understand beauty. Now, tell me how you find it.”
With my limited vocabulary, I hesitantly voiced my appreciation as she seemed satisfied, pushing further for specifics, despite surely being accustomed to compliments due to her status.
I gave up deciphering my tangled thoughts, fearing to upset such a noble figure, and continued to praise her with all sincerity, never quite thinking to ask, “Who exactly are you?”…
