Better thinking out loud than suffocating from frustration.
....
Blake House was no ordinary residence.
It was a fantasy household in every maddening sense a place that had clearly never heard of a floor plan, let alone basic geometry.
In the vast, echoing corridors of Blake House,an architectural disaster disguised as a noble mansion.I was desperately, hopelessly, trying to get out.
Somewhere in its never-ending hallways, I wandered. Or more accurately: flailed, cursed, and occasionally threatened to sue the interior designer.
"Nice rooms…
Rooms… okay. !
More roomsss…?
Where the hell is the exit? Is this a maze or a house?"
My own voice bounced back to me, a lonely sound in a place that seemed designed specifically to mock the concept of direction.
The walls refused to repeat themselves. One hall curved gently into another, which spiraled into a third, leading to a door, which of course opened into surprise!another hallway. The only consistent feature was the complete lack of consistency.
Direction? Gone.
Purpose? Escaping.
Hope? Laughable.
Marble floors, velvet-lined tapestries, chandeliers that probably required their own postal code.
Sure, it was rich, but it was also stupid.
If someone had dared to ask me to find a specific room?
I would've just laid down and died out of spite.
"Whoever built this place should be dead. Or cursed. Or cursed and dead. Preferably both."
The absurdity of it all stung even more because I wasn't supposed to be here anymore.
I had just declared my glorious independence from my multiverse-neighboring family. Parents included. Though, let's be honest they cut me off first. I just made it official.
Like a bad breakup where both parties pretend it was mutual.
Now, here I was, trapped in the family crypt of a mansion like some cursed NPC in a fantasy RPG.
The worst thing that could happen was me getting lost all day, finding no exit, and being stumbled upon by my oh-so-benevolent new father figure, Dawn. He'd probably pick me up like a stray sock and toss me out the nearest stained-glass window without breaking stride.
"Oh, these shitty situations just keep lining up like dominos lately…"
And yet… I felt something close to relief. Not because I was lost no, that part sucked but it was like quitting a soul-crushing job right before your boss calls you in for "a little talk."
A messed-up kind of freedom.
The sweet satisfaction of stepping out of the plot before it had the chance to ruin me.
This dumb fantasy narrative thought it could toss me around again, but the joke's on it.I noped out of the story arc before the prologue even finished loading.
Honestly, I should thank all those trashy, brilliant villain-origin novels.
You know the ones. The MC never plays by the rules, never takes things lying down, always dodging fate like a ninja with a grudge. Those books raised me better than my own family.
A door creaked ahead. Finally, something.
A faint light spilled out into the hallway, cutting across the polished floor.
A figure emerged-a maid, arms full of cleaning supplies. She moved briskly, and behind her, stained-glass windows cast her in a glow like some holy relic.
I blinked. For a second, the whole thing looked… theatrical.
"Hey… Mrs. Maid?"
She turned sharply, surprised, but quickly straightened, adjusting her posture with trained precision.
Then I saw her face and my brain promptly short-circuited.
As I stepped closer, words failed me. She was… beautiful. Not in the standard, magazine-cover way.
This was the kind of beautiful that made you briefly question the laws of biology. Her short black hair framed a face that was almost painfully symmetrical. Eyes sharp enough to wound. She looked like she belonged on a battlefield, not holding a mop.
My brain whispered Mikasa, and I immediately hated myself.
Lore was beautiful too maybe even more. But Lore was untouchable.
Cold in that noble, statuesque way. Standing next to her was like standing beside a glacier. Pretty, yes. But you don't feel anything except the frostbite. With this maid? There was… heat. Like I'd brushed up against something alive and dangerous.
She blinked. "Young sir, I was just cleaning the lady's room."
Snap out of it. Do not simp. You have bigger problems. Like not dying in this maze of madness.
"Y-yeah, Ms… what did you say?"
"Ms.? Oh, no, nothing. If you're here to visit, the cleaning's done. Please feel free to go inside."
"You new here?"
She paused. "Yes. I haven't memorized all the… uh, proper procedures yet.
It's my first week here, so please forgive me if I've missed something."
I smiled in relief. "Ohh It's my first week too."
"What? …Sir."
"Oh, nothing."
She gave a quick, respectful bow and tried to sidestep me.
"Did I ask you to leave?" I said, as gently as I could manage.
I was still hopelessly lost, and frankly, I needed help that didn't come with a side of judgment or legacy baggage.
She stopped mid-step.
"Sorry, sir. But I'm expected elsewhere."
"Is it more important than helping me?" I asked, forcing the friendliest smile I could muster. It probably came off deranged.
She hesitated. "I… I didn't mean to be disrespectful—"
"I only asked a question, didn't I?"
I leaned in slightly, watching her reaction. "Oh… wait. You're not aware of my condition, are you?"
It was a bluff. Her expression told me everything. She had no clue who I was. Perfect.
"I actually don't know everyone yet," she admitted, fidgeting slightly.
"Since I'm new. I've only heard that the family members are usually busy, and staff like me aren't allowed to disturb them."
"So… you don't know me?"
She looked awkward.
"I've read some names, but there's a noble event happening right now, and the new staff have been told to stay away from the main chambers. We're not supposed to risk any… complications."
I raised a brow. "So you really have no idea who the hell I am?"
She winced, visibly uncomfortable. "Ah… sorry to say, sir… no."
Bless.
Finally, someone who didn't recognize me.
Who didn't know the family name,
the weight, the legacy.
No formal titles. No gossip.
Just… this. A conversation. A person.
"Okayy… mmm… what was I going to ask again?" I scratched my head.
"Oh, right. Can you assist me for a bit? I'm kind of dizzy right now."
"Are you unwell, sir?"
Oh, I was this close to saying,
"No, just mentally tormented by the architectural horror show that is this house." But I bit my tongue.
"Kinda tired, actually. Just… stay with me for a little while."
She hesitated, her fingers tightening on the cleaning bucket. Then, to my surprise, she gave a small nod.
"I understand. I'll accompany you for a bit. But only for a short while,sir."
At last. A decent human being.
Maybe today wouldn't be a total waste after all.
.....
I felt a strange kind of relief like finding the one person in a maze who maybe read the blueprint once.
At least she seemed to know where she was going.
Not that I couldn't figure it out myself. I'm not that useless. But honestly?
I was running low on time, energy, and motivation.
And let's be real,by afternoon, someone in this building will definitely notice I don't belong here and throw me out like a suspicious sock found in the fridge.
And I have pride, okay? I don't like staying where I'm not wanted. Especially if the furniture creaks like it's judging me.
But now, somehow, I'm more uncomfortable.
Because walking beside me is the first maid I've met in this world-tall, beautiful, graceful and unfortunately, very quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you think she's either plotting your demise or just deeply disappointed in your entire existence.
I'd asked if she wanted to take a walk, and without hesitation, she nodded and started leading me somewhere.
She never said where. She just walked, and I followed, like some confused duckling with low blood sugar.
Each "somewhere" turned out to be a kilometer or two apart, and my legs were beginning to whisper threats.
"Are you feeling tired, sir?"
"No… just a little unwell."
She didn't even glance back.
She asked it so casually, like she already knew I was going to deny it out of misplaced pride. Which, fair.
Is she lost too? Or is this all part of the plan to walk me into exhaustion and let nature do the rest?
Girls in this world are weird.
One tried to kill me indirectly by setting me up for a trial the moment I woke up.It was like I owed her rent, and now this one's walking me through a scenic tour of nowhere in silence like we're on a spiritual pilgrimage.
Is everyone here emotionally unstable, or is it just me adjusting badly?
Not that I have much room to complain. I'm not from this world. I'm just borrowing a body that barely fits me, and every time I move, I can feel it judging me.
Lynn did warn me, though.
He looked me dead in the eye and said, "You're going to get wrecked in ways you can't imagine."
He wasn't wrong.
Wait… what was this world called again? Was it Earth?
No, too peaceful for that.
Something like… Tragedyland?
No, no, I remember now.
It was definitely Anxietyria.
Land of mood swings and hallway layouts designed by someone with a personal vendetta against logic.
Our surroundings kept growing darker, like someone was slowly turning the brightness dial of the world down just to mess with me.
The hallway twisted in subtle, unnatural ways, and I couldn't tell if the shadows on the walls were just poor lighting or something with teeth.
I felt it in my spine before I could think it: something was off about this place.
"Hey, I forgot to ask," I said, trying to sound casual while mentally scanning for nearby weapons or light switches. "What's your name?"
"Elya" she said without turning around.
The way she said it....it was different. Lighter? Colder? Like the syllables didn't belong to her. Or like she was borrowing the name for the day.
Maybe she didn't really know how to say it. After all, this was only her first week here. Must be awkward, going around calling yourself something you barely remember.
I mean, I once forgot my own name during roll call in school, but that was because I was hiding from a math test. Totally different.
I glanced around the narrowing hallway. The floor creaked, the air had a faint musty scent of old wood and older secrets.
"Elya," I asked cautiously, "are you sure you're going… somewhere you actually recognize in this house?"
"Don't worry, sir. We'll be there in a moment," she replied coolly.
"I know exactly where I'm going. Unless you'd prefer to go somewhere else... mmm?"
"Yeah, I just… uh… wanted to know where the exit is. If you don't mind.....oh."
I stopped mid-sentence, mentally slapping myself.
AHHHH CRAAPPP.
Why did I blurt that out? Why did my mouth work faster than my brain?
I wanted to bite my tongue off and toss it down a storm drain.
Come on, you bastard.
Keep it together.
"Oh, so you're trying to find the exit, sir?"
She smiled faintly over her shoulder. That kind of smile where you weren't sure if she was amused or deciding whether to report you.
I smiled back, the international face of a man who had no idea what was going on.
She must be thinking: Who is this idiot? Can't even find his own way out of a hallway.
If she knew who I really was in this place, she probably would've said it straight to my face. Or maybe she'd bow with a grin and shove me out the nearest window.
Elya walked ahead, her footsteps so precise it was like she was counting them. No glance back.
"You should've said that sooner, sir. Would've saved both of us some time."
Nice. First impression: negative 100. Solid start.
I decided to change the subject before my nerves made me say something even dumber.
"So, Elya... how'd you get hired here? Or was it one of those recommendation things like a family member already working here?"
She replied without missing a step, her tone even. "Yes. My aunt has been working here for almost twenty years. She recommended me."
Then she added, a little slower,
"I wasn't exactly thrilled about coming here, but… certain circumstances left me with no choice."
"Oh great. But I mean, you seem like a total professional at this job."
I just tossed some polite nonsense to lighten the mood, maybe she'd stop walking like she's leading me to my execution.
She smirked. "I'm professional at a lot of things, sir. That's the main reason I was hired."
Right. Totally normal answer.
Nothing vaguely threatening about that.
I cleared my throat. "Sooo… we've been walking for a while now.
Where exactly is the exit? If you just tell me, I'll get out of your hair and go from here."
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Why the hurry, sir? Didn't you want me to accompany you?"
Then she smiled,a little too smugly. "Besides, you won't find a maid as beautiful as me in this or any other noble house."
"Okay… huh? Uh… excuse me?"
Wait, was she teasing me? Seducing me? Mocking me? Or planning my murder?
All four felt equally possible.
She sped up, just a little.
I didn't like that. Something about her gait changed less casual, more determined.
Doubt started dripping into my brain like a leak in a wooden ceiling.
I needed to say something. Disrupt the mood.
"You're really confident, Miss Elya. But you shouldn't assume everyone's the same.
I don't judge people just by their appearance. If you're saying that, it must come from your experience."
Then I slowed my voice deliberately. "But it's wiser to judge people by how they approach and act toward you."
She didn't miss a beat. "Judge based on actions... hmm. But what about you, sir?"
Her eyes flicked to mine. "Do you want to be judged by your actions?"
"Yeah… I guess so," I muttered.
"That's only fair. But even then, it's better to judge someone after knowing the truth yourself. Not just what someone else says."
"Ohhh…" she let the word hang, almost whispering. "You're really confident you won't be judged."
"Huh?"
Okay now this conversation had gone full spiral.
Just as I was thinking of politely excusing myself to go fake a sudden allergy to old buildings, she stopped. Abruptly. Turned on her heel and faced me with a stiff, unreadable expression.
"What's the matter, Ms. Elya?"
I looked around.
This hallway… I've seen this before.
No, that can't be.
It's the first time I've been here during the day.
Right?
"Are you really sure this leads to the exit?" I asked, heartbeat kicking up a notch.
She didn't answer immediately. Just looked at me.
Then slowly, deliberately:
"Why would you want to go outside, sir? This house is far more comfortable than what's waiting out there."
My stomach twisted.
This doesn't feel good.
Not just bad. Wrong.
"I'll decide that after I go outside," I said as firmly as I could manage.
"So please, just show me the way."
Her smile this time was… chilling.
"Tell me, sir," she said, voice dipping into something cold, "what do you intend to accomplish by going outside, hmm? The people here would still protect you even if you became a dried, dead lump of human crap."
Lynn: "..."
My mind blanked.
Wait. This place.
The scent, the lighting, the texture of the floor tiles..
It came crashing back like a brick to the skull.
This is where it happened.
Last night. When I got attacked.
No. No no no no no.
I blinked hard, looked at her.
"We haven't met before, right? …Riiight?"
Her expression didn't change. But her eyes sharpened.
"Don't tell me," she hissed, "you don't even remember my face… after killing my friends right in front of me."
She stepped forward.
"Think really hard. If you honestly don't remember me, I swear to God,I'll kill you right now."
I stared at her.
And then, channeling every ounce of stunned confusion and emotional shutdown my brain could provide—
"...Okay."
Her eye twitched. Mine too.
I chuckled nervously. "Wait, hold on. You're not, uh… you're not the assassin who tried to kill me yesterday, right?"
She tilted her head.
"You said people should be judged by their actions," she said, dead serious. "I'm judging you… based on what you did to me."
I swallowed.
Very slowly.
"Okay... but have you considered not doing that?"
She reached behind her back, and
I swear, if she pulled out a knife, I was going to teleport through a wall out of sheer panic.