Maid-Of-Curse

Amber eyes cracked open to a tableau straight out of a Renaissance acid trip. Otherworldly masculine youth leered from the ceiling, their plaster wings seemingly poised to tickle her nose. A plush bed swallowed Amelia whole, a far cry from the cold floor she called her bed.

"So this is it," she groaned, clutching her head. "Died and woke up in a fever dream of a decorator with questionable taste in celestial beings." Certainly hell, but with interior design by a flamboyant peacock. Amelia rolled her eyes even as the dull throb behind them begged her to stop.

A gilded mirror caught her gaze, and a face stared back, both familiar and utterly foreign. Long, unkempt hair framed wide brown eyes that mirrored her own bewilderment. It was her face, but younger, softer, with years she hadn't lived etched in the lines.

Had she time-travelled? Stuck in some bizarre isekai scenario that had taken the internet by storm? The more likely explanation, of course, was that she'd finally lost her marbles.

"Captain Robin, Eydis is awake!" A shrill voice pierced the air, sending chills down Amelia's spine. A maid, barely more than a girl, scurried out, leaving Amelia alone with her escalating panic.

The maid's attire was bizarre – long gowns and starched aprons from a bygone era. Had she stumbled into a historical reenactment gone horribly wrong? Perhaps, she had traversed to a different world, an explanation more plausible than time travel which inherently entailed paradoxes.

A wave of dizziness washed over her, a torrent of memories not hers slamming into her like a tidal wave. Maid, witches, a curse, war, Duke Whitlock, Alchymia Empire, John, Eydis.

Eydis. A beautiful name wasted on a girl consumed by self-loathing, pining for a knight named John, and consumed by envy for the noble Lady Athena. Amelia recoiled, not from envy, but from the wasted potential. This wasn't her story. This was someone else's tragedy, a poorly written chapter in someone else's life.

In her original life, Amelia Kruger was a wanderer, not a servant. But at least she was free, free from this gilded cage and its suffocating hierarchy.

Very inconvenient indeed.

She contemplated the absurdity of her predicament. As a skeptic, her life beliefs were under siege. Waking up as a maid in a magical world was beyond anything she could have imagined. Maths and science made sense to her, but whatever she was experiencing now defied all logic. Perhaps even time travel was possible here.

One thing she knew for sure – she wasn't Amelia anymore. She was now seventeen-year-old Eydis, a fact she must remember as she navigated this strange, opulent world.

A knock shattered the silence. A man, impeccably dressed with silver eyes as cold as the castle walls, stood at the door. "Miss Eydis," he said, his voice clipped, "I'm Duke Whitlock. How are you feeling?"

Eydis swallowed. "Your Grace," she bowed, the gesture oddly fluid, practised. "I…I'm still trying to piece it all together."

He was undeniably handsome, the kind of face that belonged in a museum sculpture, though his icy gaze chilled her. No wonder Eydis never dared to meet it.

"I am honoured by your perception, Miss Eydis," he said, a hint of amusement softening his eyes. "It appears there are pressing matters that require your immediate attention."

Did she think that out loud? Eydis started.

Very inconvenient indeed.