Within the confines of a luxurious chamber filled with antique elegance and aristocratic splendor, the walls were covered in dark wooden panels intricately etched with beautiful patterns, showcasing the artisans' remarkable skill. Sturdy furniture, adorned with graceful carvings, contributed to the room's stately, old-world-like dignity. Sunlight filtered gently through a massive glass window next to the towering king-size bed, scattering golden rays throughout the space. The faint scent of aged books lingered in the air, creating an atmosphere of solemnity, as if time itself had paused at the entrance.
In the center of the room, a large bed stood, where a boy, no older than nine or ten years old, lay sleeping. His reddish-brown hair framed a face as pale as porcelain, delicate and charming, suggesting that he would one day grow into striking handsomeness. However, his sleep was anything but peaceful, as he tossed and turned, as if he were trapped in the grasp of some unseen terror.
With a sudden gasp, like a drowning soul breaking to the surface from the suffocating depths of the sea, he bolted upright. His chest heaved violently, each ragged breath clawing for air as if he had been suffocating for an eternity. Cold sweat clung to his brow and neck, his trembling hands fumbling to wipe away the phantom remnants of his nightmare. His golden eyes, wide with fright, scanned the chamber, an unfamiliar room that nonetheless stirred a strange, almost haunting familiarity. His gaze darted to the corners, searching for a shadow that was no longer there.
"Was it truly just a dream?" The thought echoed inside his mind like a whisper in an empty hall, followed by a far more chilling one. "But what if it was not a dream at all?"
Gradually, Arthur's frantic heartbeat began to slow, and his feverish mind and consciousness returned to normal. The vast chamber around him revealed its details more clearly to his still-shaken, fear-leased eyes. Towering walls, clad in dark wood and etched with elaborate motifs, gleamed faintly in the dim light that filtered through heavy emerald velvet curtains suspended from a ceiling so high that one could not glimpse its end at once.
Crystal chandeliers, though unlit, captured the light like frozen constellations hovering in midair. Beneath him lay a sprawling Persian rug that seemed to envelop the vast expanse of the floor, its surface interrupted only by magnificent furnishings — a massive carved cabinet, a polished walnut desk, and scattered open books, as if someone had recently set them aside. At the center of it all was the grand bed itself, its silken pillows and heavy gold-embroidered covers nearly engulfing his small frame.
As with each passing moment, Arthur had become more aware that he was not in the modest bedroom of his flat, but in a lavish suite within the confines of the halls of an ancient palace. Though he could not remember ever setting foot in this place, an uncanny sense of familiarity lingered within him. It felt as if the very walls knew him more intimately than even he knew himself.
And yet there was something else. As his eyes scanned the area, Arthur noticed peculiar distortions, subtle yet undeniable. It was as if the world itself seemed distorted, as if the proportions of the room had been bent unnaturally. As everything appeared to be larger, grander, as though reality itself were warped.
A cold unease seeped into his chest, tightening with each breath. As the nightmare still clung to him, vivid and unforgiving, and even now awake, he felt as if the horror of its shadow was bleeding into the waking world.
Instinctively, Arthur looked at his hands and was startled by how small they seemed compared to what he knew of his own body. "What is this? What is going on?!" Fear raced through his mind as his heart pounded violently, as if it might burst out from his chest, filling him with uncontrollable panic.
But of course, being the logical person he was, Arthur tried to calm himself down. "No, this isn't real. It can't be real. I'm dreaming. Yes, this must be just a dream! Nothing more," Yet despite his attempts, the fear was relentless. Everything around him, from the walls to the towering ceiling, felt both alien and strangely familiar, as if the very room itself were breathing, threatening to unravel his sanity.
Then the breaking point had arrived when Arthur had caught his reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at him was not that of the handsome, confident young man in his late teens and early twenties he remembered. Instead, it had reflected the visage of a child no older than nine or ten, with eerily familiar features. As a result, the shock of this revelation struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he felt as though the ground had vanished from beneath his feet.
And just as he was trying to collect his scattered thoughts, a soft knock came at the door.
"Knock… knock… knock…"
Then a gentle, melodious female voice drifted through, like the soft morning breeze. "It's time for breakfast, young master. Are you awake?"
Hearing that gentle and melodious voice, Arthur froze in his place, unsure why; it was as if he had turned to stone. Alone in the room, he knew the voice belonged to a woman. Instinctively, he gauged her age with no conscious effort. "Her voice suggests maturity… perhaps late twenties or early thirties." Yet, despite this rational deduction, the voice stirred a strange sense of familiarity, as if he had known it or heard it from somewhere long ago, a memory he couldn't recall, considering his perfect photographic memory. And for reasons he could not explain, he knew that she was calling him specifically.
"Ah, yes. I'm awake," he said automatically, responding without thinking to his horror.
The woman, unaware of the young detective's internal turmoil, replied calmly, "That's good, young master. Then I'll come in now."
"Ah, wait! What—" Arthur tried to protest, but before he could finish, she had already opened the door and stepped inside, leaving him no time at all to respond, revealing herself.
She was a woman of striking beauty, likely in her early thirties or even younger, with light brown hair that shimmered like strands of gold in the morning sunlight. Her deep blue eyes mirrored the vastness of the sea, and her delicate features revealed no hint of aging. Yet despite her captivating appearance, her attire exuded practical simplicity. She wore a traditional maid's uniform, a long black dress with a white apron tied neatly at her waist and a white cap covering her carefully styled hair. Her light footsteps on the wooden floor spoke of discipline and calm. At the same time, her hidden beauty peeked subtly from behind the simplicity of her uniform; each action, each step was measured and precise, as if executed with quiet and perfect mastery.
As soon as Arthur's gaze fell upon the stunningly beautiful woman in traditional maid's attire, with a sweet voice that seemed to resonate with warmth, he felt as if the thick veil of fog that had long obscured the painful memories of his past had suddenly been lifted. The mental barrier he had unconsciously erected to protect himself from the horrors and consequences of the Leonharth's Palace tragedy was now completely shattered. Memories flooded back to him like a bolt of lightning striking the depths of his being.
A look of disbelief and incredulity spread across Arthur's face, and his amber eyes widened in horror and astonishment. The words escaped his lips in a broken whisper, filled with shock he had never known before. "Lelia? How... How is this possible?! Didn't she... and the others... die in that accident?!"
He quickly scanned the room, searching for any detail that could explain the surreal situation unfolding before him, but all he found only deepened his confusion. His eyes widened further, and astonishment ravaged his features. No... this can't be... this is impossible... Yes... It's an illusion; everything here is just an illusion. It must have been a trick of the senses or perhaps another nightmare. Yet, every corner, every piece of furniture, and every familiar detail in the room screamed the terrifying truth. This room was my childhood room in Leonharth's Palace. Everything here was as real as it could be!
"My goodness, young master Arthur, are you all right? You look very pale. Perhaps you caught a cold after your reckless adventure in the rain yesterday?" Lelia asked, her sweet voice now filled with concern as she approached him cautiously.
Her blue eyes carefully tracked his confused expression, worried that his appearance did not indicate good health at all. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost, which, from Arthur's perspective, was not far from the truth as he struggled to process the shock.
Arthur slowly regained his composure after feeling the gentle warmth of Lelia's hand on his forehead. Her sweet voice flowed into his ears. "Hmm… You don't seem to have a fever, but just to be safe, it's best to rest and avoid overexertion today. Do you understand what I mean, young man?"
Arthur replied quickly, his words faltering slightly under the weight of tension and confusion. "Ah… yes, I'm fine. Don't worry, I won't overexert myself… I promise, Aunt Lelia."
"All right then, if you're sure. But young man, you must make sure to get enough rest. Now come on… I'll head to the dining table, so don't be late. You can eat while it's hot." Lelia smiled gently, knowing full well that he was trying to appear strong despite his turmoil. With a slight nod, she encouraged him to follow before heading to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on breakfast.
Typically, Lelia would have preferred to bring breakfast to her young Master room and spare him any unnecessary trouble. But knowing Arthur's stubborn nature, she had decided otherwise this time, allowing him to come down on his own, which might help him feel a little better and gradually regain his composure.
Then, after a few moments of calm, Arthur had regained his composure relatively, nodded his head in farewell to Lilia, and slowly got out of bed. However, the slight dizziness he felt from all the madness he had witnessed had not wholly disappeared. Nevertheless, the warmth he felt from Lilia's hand had, in fact, brought him back to a semi-normal state, as if the shock of what he had experienced so far, from his "death" and then his return in time, had begun to fade away gradually.
So, after changing into appropriate clothes instead of his pajamas, he headed for the door and opened it to step out into the palace's wide corridors, where the morning rays were streaming through the high windows, illuminating the walls decorated with warm colors. Each step on the polished wooden floor produced a faint echo that brought back deep and fragrant memories of the past... the future? Time travel is very complicated! The sounds of movement in the palace heralded the beginning of a new day.
Putting aside complex thoughts about his current bizarre situation, Arthur arrived at the dining room, where the table was set for breakfast with care. The atmosphere was calm and peaceful, with the occasional clinking of dishes and the warm aromas of fresh bread and tea. As Arthur approached the table, "he" had appeared, none other than the family's butler, William Ashford, a handsome middle-aged man in his fifties, with a formal and dignified appearance, his sharp eyes sparkling with insight and long experience in life and managing the affairs of the palace.
William approached Arthur with elegance and confidence, smiling slightly, a knowing smile, before saying in a calm voice, "Good morning, young Master. Arthur. It is rare to see you awake in time for breakfast. I hope you have rested a little after all you have been through."
Arthur nodded slightly, tears welling up in his golden eyes, feeling a mixture of respect, slight fear, and awe in the presence of William's formal demeanor. The man who had been like a father, mentor, and teacher since he was a toddler until that fateful day of the Leonharth Palace incident, caused by the villains who killed him before his return to the present. Arthur then rushed towards the man and embraced him with all his strength, hot tears streaming down his face.