Chapter 4: New Friend

As Mila began the laborious task of scrubbing the newly arrived dirty laundry, the pangs of hunger intensified with each passing moment.

The aroma of food from the distant dining hall seemed to taunt her, reminding her that she had yet to have a proper meal since morning.

Her stomach, a relentless companion, protested audibly, amplifying her sense of deprivation.

The words of the servant lingered in her mind—no dinner until the laundry was done. Fearful of the consequences and the looming threat of punishment, Mila worked with a newfound urgency.

The garments, heavy and sodden, resisted her efforts, but the hollow ache in her stomach served as a relentless motivator.

As the night deepened, the estate fell into a hushed stillness. The once bustling corridors now whisper with an unsettling quiet.

Mila, lost in her task, labored on, the rhythmic scrubbing punctuated by the occasional groan of fatigue.

The sounds of her own breath and the distant night creatures provided a disconcerting soundtrack to her solitary toil.

When she finally finished, the laundry area lay eerily silent.

The dirty garments, now clean and neatly arranged, sat as a testament to Mila's perseverance.

However, the reward she had hoped for—nourishment and rest—seemed to elude her grasp.

With a sinking realization, Mila acknowledged that the dining hall would now be closed and that she had missed her chance to partake in the evening meal.

The gnawing hunger intensified, a sharp reminder of the cost of delayed tasks in this unfamiliar place.

Fatigue weighed heavily on her, and the prospect of finding her way back to the room where she had slept the previous night seemed daunting.

In the quiet laundry area, Mila scanned the surroundings for a spot where she could rest without succumbing to the dampness that clung to the air.

A dim light from a distant window revealed a secluded corner that appeared dry and relatively untouched by the earlier labor.

Mila, her body aching and her eyelids heavy, settled into the chosen spot. The cold, hard floor offered little comfort, but at this point, any respite was a welcome reprieve.

As she lay there, staring into the darkness, the events of the day cascaded through her mind.

Mila's eyes grew heavy, and despite the discomfort, exhaustion claimed her.

In the solitude of the laundry area, with the distant sounds of the night as her lullaby, she drifted into an uneasy sleep, her dreams haunted by the echoes of her hardships in this enigmatic estate.

...

The morning light filtered through the small windows, casting a pale glow on the laundry area.

The air, still carrying the remnants of the previous night's dampness, felt cooler as the estate began to stir.

The first servant to arrive for the day, tasked with continuing the laundry, entered the room with purposeful strides.

Her eyes scanned the neatly arranged garments left behind by Mila from the night before.

As the servant roamed around, her gaze fell upon a figure in an uncomfortable position, lying on the cold floor.

The shock and concern etched across her face were visible as she approached. Mila, lost in a restless slumber, stirred as the servant gently nudged her awake.

Startled, Mila opened her eyes to the sight of a normal-looking person clad in a servant's uniform.

The immediate alarm set in, and despite the discomfort in her body, she instinctively sat up and spoke as if someone of higher rank came to reprimand her.

"I finished the additional laundry you gave me last night," Mila asserted, her voice tinged with urgency.

The servant's expression shifted from surprise to concern. "Additional laundry? The laundry area is closed during the night. Did you eat dinner last night?"

Caught off guard by the question, Mila hesitated.

A sense of embarrassment washed over her as she confessed, "No, I... I haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning."

The concern deepened in the servant's eyes. "You should have your dinner. Let's get you something to eat now," she said with a gentleness that contradicted the harsh reality Mila had experienced thus far.

The servant helped Mila to her feet, her body protesting against the abrupt movement.

As they made their way to the dining hall, the servant spoke again: "I'm Clara, by the way. You're new here, right?"

Mila nodded, grateful for the unexpected kindness. "Yes, I'm Mila. Thank you, Clara."

The dining hall greeted Mila with the comforting aroma of breakfast as she entered alongside Clara.

The room was adorned with sturdy wooden tables and benches, and the atmosphere hummed with the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of utensils.

Mila's eyes flitted around the room, taking in the sight of other servants engrossed in their morning meals.

Clara guided Mila to an unoccupied table and gestured for her to sit. "Have a seat, Mila. I'll get you some food."

As Mila settled into the bench, Clara returned with a plate filled with warm food—a simple but nourishing breakfast.

Mila's stomach, having gone without sustenance since the morning before, eagerly welcomed the prospect of a meal.

Clara took a seat across from Mila, her gaze both curious and compassionate. "So, Mila, who asked you to wash the laundry last night? It's unusual for anyone to do such tasks during the night."

Mila paused mid-bite, her mind briefly revisiting the events of the previous night. "It was another servant. I didn't catch her name. She said I needed to finish it before going to the dining hall or face punishment."

Clara's eyebrows furrowed with concern. "That's not how things are usually done here. No one should be giving you tasks during the night, especially if it interferes with your meals and rest."

Mila nodded, a mixture of relief and confusion clouding her expression. "I didn't know. It was my first night here, and everything seems so different."

Clara's demeanor softened. "Don't worry, Mila. I'll talk to the overseer about it. You shouldn't be subjected to unnecessary tasks, especially at night."

As they continued to eat, Clara guided the conversation toward lighter topics, asking Mila about herself and sharing snippets of life within the estate.

The camaraderie began to alleviate some of the apprehension Mila felt, and for the first time since her arrival, a glimmer of connection with another person in this enigmatic place began to take root.

After finishing her breakfast, Clara led Mila through the labyrinthine corridors of the estate towards the servants' quarters.

The air in the hallways felt different—quieter and less foreboding than the laundry area. Clara, ever the considerate guide, sensed Mila's disheveled state and made a decision.

"Before you settle into your room, let's make a quick stop at the shared bathing room," Clara suggested, her voice carrying a note of kindness.

The servants' quarters revealed a more communal atmosphere, with multiple rooms lining the corridor.

Clara guided Mila to the designated bathing area, offering her the chance to freshen up after the night's toil.

Inside, the room echoed with the sounds of running water and the muffled conversations of others using the facility.

As Mila emerged, feeling rejuvenated, Clara handed her an old but serviceable laundry uniform. "You might want to change into this. It'll be better than walking around in those damp clothes."

Grateful for the offer, Mila changed into the provided uniform.

The fabric, though worn, felt a vast improvement over her previous state. Clara, with a reassuring smile, motioned for them to continue to the servants' quarters.

Upon arrival, Clara inquired about Mila's assigned room.

Mila's expression shifted, revealing the lack of certainty in her answer. "I don't have a room. I woke up in the laundry area, and I haven't been assigned a place."

Clara's brows furrowed with a mix of surprise and concern. "That's not right. Everyone should have a place to stay. Don't worry; we'll sort this out."

With Clara's guidance, they ventured further into the quarters. Passing by a room with two beds, Clara suggested, "This is my room, and there's an empty bed. Why don't you stay here until they sort out your accommodations?"

Mila hesitated, touched by Clara's offer. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude."

Clara dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand. "Nonsense. We're all in this together. Besides, it'll be nice to have some company."

Mila nodded appreciatively, grateful for the unexpected camaraderie in this unfamiliar place.

After their brief stop in Clara's room, they returned to the laundry area, where the atmosphere had shifted from the previous night.

Servants were already at work; their movements were synchronized with the rhythm of their tasks. The air, once laden with eerie quiet, now buzzed with the sound of activity.

As Clara and Mila walked in, Clara's gaze fell on Samantha, the head of the laundry department.

An air of frustration lingered around Clara as she approached Samantha and began to voice her concerns.

"Samantha," Clara started, her tone holding a mix of exasperation and determination.

"Mila here was forced to wash laundry in the middle of the night and has been left without accommodations and food since yesterday morning. This isn't right."

Samantha, a figure of authority in the laundry department, met Clara's complaint with indifference.

She looked at Mila, who stood beside Clara, and heaved a sigh as if the situation were an inconvenience.

"The new girl?" Samantha remarked, her expression unyielding. She glanced at Mila before addressing Clara, "Fine, find an empty bed for her in the servants' quarters. We can't have a servant without a place to sleep."

Clara, undeterred, seized upon the opportunity to present a solution. "There's an empty bed in my room. Mila can stay there temporarily until everything is sorted out."

Samantha, not one to dwell on details, agreed with a curt nod. "Fine. Make sure she occupies the empty bed. We can't have servants wandering around without a designated space."