An unfamiliar mage greeted me at the entrance of the Placa hall, and I didn’t find our homeroom mage anywhere close in the vicinity. Not that I particularly like that bastard who propagated prejudice with eyes wide open, but having a familiar face would have eased my nerves. Even if it meant someone I abhorred.

The room opened inwards, the darkness already beckoning me inside. I glanced at the grimy windows behind me, the Academians surrounding me, and then at the disappearing back of Rudolf. His attire needed some work, and I could hold on to that thought before my worst fears assuaged me. Not knowing what they were didn’t help much either. I was strong, I reasoned, but not against myself, because my pathetic nature had craved for love all my life. And I wasn’t feeling optimistic about facing it all over again after receiving companionship from my mongrel.

The door creaked and collided against the wall on the right, and the latch over the grey door appeared more imposing than usual. I held my green frock - was it purple?- and ambled inside, my eyes taking too long to accommodate the dimness in the room. The door behind me was shut in a single motion, and I couldn’t even see my own hands in the pitch-black night.

Fire spell didn’t work in the darkness, or rather, no spell did. Finding the magic lamp was the only way out of this predicament. Darkness was a useless spell in the presence of light, but it became terrifying in the dead of night.

The room smelt like Rudolf’s cologne, something close to bread, but I didn’t know if it was my mind playing tricks again. I searched the empty darkness before me, my hands moving before my legs did, and I couldn’t find the fucking mana ball anywhere in the room. Not that I had searched around much, but I had reached the opposite wall by then. I paced back to the entrance, and I didn’t need anyone else to tell me that I was lost. No lamp, no Crover, and not even my own body!

I stopped and closed my eyes, trying to feel the breathing or any soft sounds in the room, but I heard laughter in the distance, and I opened my eyes, startled. My body didn’t feel like my own anymore, and I knew this was an illusion. Yes, an illusion. But I could move my arms. They had shrunk in size, probably to half as much as my current size, but they were my own arms. It didn’t appear like an illusion anymore, and my memories were running havoc in my mind. I was under the sheets and the soft cushion depressed as I rolled around until I found myself in someone’s embrace.

Mongrel was my immediate thought, but I found my mother smiling at me with her warm gaze that I had missed so much the past few years.

“You are awake, my baby,” she caressed my hair fondly, and I struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to flow out. I pacified myself. Everything was a lie and an illusion. I tried to reason, but her smile made me forget whatever little rationale I had managed to garner.

“Mother,” I called out with a choked voice, and it felt sharper than my own voice. “Mother,” I called out again, and she nuzzled her nose against my cheeks and kissed my cheeks.

“What are you spacing around for, Letitia?” she removed the covers draping us and helped me to get seated on the bed with her. “Did you have a bad dream last night?”

I shook my head. Was everything with my mongrel a dream I conjectured? Was this the real world?

I refused the thought immediately. This was an illusion. But this felt surreal, and my mother appeared hale and healthy.

“Mother, didn’t you die already?” I finally asked, trying to suppress the welling emotions in my heart.

“You really had a bad dream, Letitia,” she flicked my nose with her finger and stood up. “Get out for breakfast. Or I’ll send Rudolf to the kitchen to get some bread. You hate them, don’t you? Both Rudolf and bread.”

I hate bread? And my mongrel? I tried to shake my head but found myself nodding at her. “I don’t,” I finally used words, and she gave me a knowing smile as she tied her black hair to a bun.

“Hetali,” my mother called out, and the door opened immediately as a woman dressed in black kirtle and a grey sleeveless tunic that covered the gown till her knees. She appeared different… or did she? I didn’t quite remember her face from my memories anymore. “Tell Marquis to go ahead to the officialdom. Letitia woke up late.”

“Yes, Chantelle,” she bowed politely, but her casual address had my eyebrows raised. Nevertheless, I didn’t berate her openly, for my four-year-old brain didn’t let me. I was probably a floating consciousness in the depths of my own memories, but I was losing myself in the world every passing moment.

I freshened up with my mother, and she helped me brush my teeth despite my ardent resistance. The western courtyard appeared cleaner than usual, and my mongrel’s room was still beside my own room, albeit I slept in my mother’s room that was right opposite mine. The thought that everything was an illusion faded with every similarity, and I began doubting my actual memories. The [Darkness] spell was probably playing its part, and it had succeeded to muddle my sanity.

I opened the door to my room and ambled inside. Everything was the same, except for the pink sheets and my wardrobe, which appeared filled to the brim with colorful gowns, nightdresses, and multiple kirtles. I picked a random one, and a maid stepped inside to help me dress up. I shooed her away and went in search of my mongrel, clutching the small blue gown and the kirtle in my hands. The door to his room was closed and locked. I suppressed my uneasiness because he usually never locked the door. And he might be a different person here.

“Where’s Rudolf?” I asked the maid who was carrying my lady’s jewelry to her room. Mother needed to dress ostentatiously every morning, so she wouldn’t come out any time soon.

“I saw him close the central yard,” she said and darted to my mother’s room, her gait light and short.

A brief walk through the familiar corridor landed me in the main yard that I hadn’t visited in years. He was resting under a patio that tapered toward the top and had four white beams supported the roof adorned with red tiles. A long bench right underneath the shallow ceiling gave him ample space for eating his bread, and I watched the short brat nibble his bread with the same cheerful expression that I had been used to for far too long. When I reached closer, I realized he still towered over me, despite his short stature, which annoyed me more than his delayed greeting.

“My lady,” he smiled at me. “Rare of you to visit me.”

“Can’t I?” I asked, albeit softly.

“Certainly you can, my lady. But I doubt your mother would appreciate my company. You complained to her that I poisoned you with words, after all,” he said with a sheepish grin, and I realized he didn’t have two teeth in the front. Brat he was, but he was the same Rudolf inside-out.

“Do you remember petty grudges?” I asked in amusement, and his eyes flashed with something akin to surprise. Did I sound too mature for my age?

“I don’t, my lady,” he said quickly with a shake of his head. “So you should reward me more bread.”

“I’m in an illusion,” I finally said after debating for a while.

“What are you mumbling about, my lady?”

“I’m in an illusion,” I tried again, but my words died down in a whisper. The scenery before me changed immediately, and I was back in mother's room without warning. She was lying on the bed, haggard and probably too exhausted, but the vitality in her eyes had never faded.

“Scars don’t fade, Letitia. It’s because humans don’t deserve impeccable beauty. So, I’m fine with the branding since it’s the sin of my family that I ought to bear,” she said, sitting erect.

No. I didn’t want to watch her die again. This fucking dream had to stop!

“I’ll find someone to remove that, mother,” my tongue rolled in my mouth without my control.

“Even the strongest of mages cannot, my Letitia. Only demons and gods have right over things that are impossible for us. If you ever meet them, stay as far as you can, for they crave mirth from our misery,” she said, and my pitiful body silently clutched her hand.

The door opened almost immediately, the light in the room replaced by the flickering light of the chandelier in the room, and my mongrel walked inside, this time with his actual body, holding a sword in his hand. The metal glinted in the light, and he smiled at me, pulling me behind him almost forcefully before his eyes landed on my mother’s frail appearance on the bed.

I pulled his hand, and he ruffled my hair with the same soft gaze. He could heal her, right? But she wasn’t sick. She committed suicide. Yes, but what was my mongrel doing here with the sword? He always preferred a blood sword, so this wasn’t him. My mind instinctually rejected his presence, but the doubts in my head materialized.

“Don’t, Rudolf,” I said, clutching his hand harder. He didn’t! My mind fervently refused to accept this, but my worst fear was materializing my doubts.

“Even if you did mind, I would kill her. Your feelings toward me don’t matter much if you can become a ruthless person,” he said, and I faintly remembered the words, but the suspicions in my head were warping them.

He walked closer to my mother’s bed, and I tried casting [Freeze], which almost froze the soles of his shoes and nothing beyond. My four old body didn’t have enough mana to sustain [Freeze] over his legs.

“Mongrel!” I shouted, and the sword slashed her head in a single motion.

Rudolf stared at me with the same kind eyes, his face marred with my mother’s blood, and I stepped back, terrified of the monster before me, and collapsed on my butt. My hands quivered and teeth clattered as his steps sounded closer to my ears. I wrapped my hands around my legs, trying to subdue to the raging doubts in my head. Blood splotched on the walls swirled, and it only nullified my rationale.

Guilt washed over me, but my body was whipped still with fear. He took cautious steps and kneeled before me, reveling in the blood bath. The red liquid dripped from the bed, and the room warped to a slope, helping the blood reach my legs.

I didn't cry, but tears made their way to my eyes. I didn't let them flow out, because this was a lie. And I would acquiesce to the lies once I cried.

“That’s the real me, my lady,” he smiled. The same one that I had come to adore so badly. Yes, because I didn’t hate him even after I had just witnessed him killing my mother. I felt guilt more because I thought I would accept him even if everyone in the world rejected him. But here, I was refusing him. I doubted him.

“Are you stupid, my lady?” he laughed and flicked my forehead. I stared at my hands that had grown larger before moving my gaze back to his grinning face. “We undead don’t lie.”

I was back in the darkness with his few words, and my body felt clammy with sweat. I groaned, pressing my aching temple and forced down the bile threatening to fill my parched mouth.

Standing up took more effort than ever, but I did, feeling the cold floor beneath me, glad that I had decided to trust my mongrel. If he did kill my mother, I wasn’t stupid enough to blame him for the rest of my life. Why? Because I was a crazy villainess obsessed over a man who enjoyed slaughter. But I knew he didn’t kill her, for he wouldn’t have lied to me all these years. I had never asked him for the truth of my mother’s death because it scared me that he would leave.

I stumbled in the dark for a while until the room brightened up, and I saw Crover sitting atop the table at the apex of the room. He sat cross-legged with a perverted smile that reveled in the pain of the Academians.

“Good job, lady Letitia,” he said, glancing at the piece of paper in his hand. He fished out a lamp from behind him and beckoned me to come closer. “Light this up, and we are through.”

I tramped toward him in annoyance and passed my channelized mana into the blob of shimmering glass.

“You can leave,” he said, already calling out the next person inside. “Every student hates me,” he grinned with his broken teeth and shooed me away.