Freen's Perspective:
When I awoke, I found myself in a strange place. The entire room was white, and strange machines beside me beeped rhythmically. I had never seen such devices before. As I looked around, I realized the room was large—too large to be familiar.
Where am I? I asked myself.
Then I noticed strange tubes attached to my body, and something like water was flowing into my arm.
"Waaah!" I screamed when I saw a large needle embedded in my wrist.
Without thinking, I yanked it out. "Ouch." Damn, it hurt. Am I dead? Is this... heaven?
Then, I noticed a large picture frame on the wall in front of the bed. At first glance, it was just a pitch-black surface, yet it was perfectly intact, almost like a blank canvas. Is the painter not finished? But why hang it here? I examined every corner of it, curious about the material. It didn't seem like paint at all. It was... unnerving.
Suddenly, something red blinked in the corner of the frame.
I stumbled back in shock, falling onto the bed again, my heart pounding.
And then it spoke.
The black rectangle spoke.
Inside the frame, people appeared—moving people.
"What kind of sorcery is this?! Help!! Let me out!" I screamed. The walls seemed to close in around me, the people on the screen staring blankly as if waiting for something. Their eyes seemed to pierce through my skin, chilling me to the bone. I had stumbled into something beyond my understanding—something that would change my life forever.
I spotted a window to my right. I didn't hesitate. I ran to it, hoping to escape.
But outside... things were even stranger.
Massive structures gleamed like mirrors. Down below, wagons moved—without horses. They glided along the road with people inside them.
Then the door opened, and Lady Rebecca entered.
"Freen? You're awake!" she cried and ran toward me—then suddenly, she kissed me.
Our lips met.
I couldn't move.
Lady Rebecca was kissing me.
This has to be a dream. A nightmare. Why would a woman kiss another woman?
And yet... I liked it.
I stood there frozen.
"I've missed you, my love. The kids and I missed you already."
She looked older—more mature—but still breathtakingly beautiful.
"Kids?" I repeated in disbelief.
"Yes. Our daughters."
"Daughters?!"
"Yes, my love. Our daughters," she said again, her voice full of affection.
My head spun. Nothing made sense anymore. I gripped my temples as pain shot through my skull and dropped to the floor.
"Aaaah!" I screamed.
"No, no, baby—don't leave us again! Help! Doctor, please! Somebody help!" I heard her cry.
I jolted awake, my body drenched in sweat, gasping for air.
Then I jumped again as Lady Rebecca appeared right in front of me.
ฉันอยู่ที่ไหน? ฉันกำลังทำอะไรอยู่บนเตียงของคุณ?
Chạn xyū̀ thī̀h̄ịn? Chạn kảlạng thả xarị xyū̀ bn teīyng k̄hxng khuṇ?("Where am I? What am I doing in your bed?")
"Relax, I'm not going to bite you," she laughed, not realizing she couldn't understand me.
Her laughter, melodic and disarming, sent a wave of warmth through me. I knew I must've looked foolish, standing at the corner of the room like a statue, but seeing her laugh... it erased everything. Even fear.
This woman—this goddess—has a strange effect on me. She calms me even when I'm terrified. She's always been like that, even in dreams.
Am I going crazy? Or is this obsession?
My eyes drifted to her lips. The memory of our kiss flashed through my mind. I swallowed hard, remembering the taste.
Is it possible to dream of kissing another woman like that?I know I've admired her since childhood. I used to feel jealous when she was with Sir George, but I never thought about this. Not until now.
"Why are you so tense? I mean no harm."
I didn't understand her words—I was frozen.
I wanted to taste her lips again so badly. I was sweating now.
"You fainted, remember?"
Was she asking me something?
How do I talk to her if we don't understand each other?
She stepped closer. I moved back instinctively, but I was trapped against the wall. My mind raced, heart pounding.
Then I saw her smirk.
What is she planning now?
Rebecca's Perspective:
As she collided with the wall, I realized she was now trapped. I don't know why, but seeing her react like that pleased me.
I've never been this bold with my previous maids. But there's something about her—something that stirs something deep within me. Those eyes... where have I seen those eyes before?
When she first served me, she didn't look me in the eye like the others. But I could feel her gaze when I turned away.
Her scent... it's not foul—it's... unique. It always bothered me in a way I couldn't explain. That's one reason I chose her to be my personal maid. I wanted to know more.
Before I agreed to marry George Maurer—the prime minister's son—I begged Father for one favor: to live alone for a while. I wanted to live free, away from politics and noble expectations, away from etiquette and duty.
Mother wanted to come live with me too. But I fear it's too late to repair that relationship.
Now, as I stood this close to Freen, staring into her eyes... I was drawn in. Again, she looked at my lips—and bit hers.
I gripped my dress tightly, placed one hand on the wall beside her, trapping her.
This is crazy. I'm so close I can feel her breath on my face.
I stared at her lips like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.
I've never felt this way. Not about any man. Not even George.
Being close to her doesn't disgust me. It makes me feel alive.
What am I thinking? We're both women.
The door burst open.
"Freen!! "
It was Kirk , Nop and Saint's cousin. He ran into my room without permission.
My brows furrowed as I watched Freen's face light up.
She jumped for joy and embraced him. He lifted her, spinning her around my room like it was some ridiculous romance novel.
In front of me? Really?
"A-hem," I coughed loudly, glaring.
"I-I apologize for my rudeness, Lady Rebecca. I just got excited that my friend Freen is finally awake," Kirk said.
Freen. So that's her name.
I filed it away in my mind.
I was surprised he spoke so civilly, especially after nearly murdering George. I still can't believe he wasn't imprisoned.
What's his connection to the Kingdom of Ayutthaya? How did he get away with that?
He beat the prime minister's son. England's prime minister's heir.
"Apology accepted," I said coolly. Who am I to restrain my curiosity now?
Third Person's POV
Lady Rebecca narrowed her eyes, replaying the incident from the reports she had been given—and from what she had seen herself.
George had been found barely conscious with a shattered wrist and cracked ribs.
The guards had not moved.
Not even flinched.
Not one sword was drawn.
And yet Kirk had walked straight through them—unannounced, unchallenged, and unafraid.
"Who… are you?" she muttered under her breath, her gloved hand pressed thoughtfully to her chin as she watched Kirk, now standing quietly in the hallway through the glass pane, talking with her servant Freen.
None of the guards dared make eye contact with him. Some even seemed to stand straighter, as if he outranked them in some silent language none of them could explain.
He had no official rank. No crest. No bloodline to claim.
Yet they moved aside as if some primal instinct demanded respect.
She tapped the table twice with her fingers. Her thoughts were sharp, cold, and unresolved.
"What kind of person are you in this kingdom? " she asked no one.
Because whatever Kirk was...
He wasn't ordinary.
And now, she wanted to know why Freen trusted him so deeply, even in the space between life and death.
But what bothers her more is how this man looked at Freen, kind of threatening Lady Rebecca's self-awareness of being sort of jealous, a feeling she never felt before.
''Why am I feeling this way?'' The lady asks herself while watching how the two interact.