His upper body shot up with a speed that was almost unnatural, his dark blue hair falling messily over his face, but his sharp, dark blue eyes were wide open, fierce and alert.
His gaze snapped instantly to the two women, piercing and calculating, like a predator assessing his prey.
The air seemed to freeze.
Both maids stood stunned, their breath caught in their throats, as if the world itself had paused around them.
Veronica's hands, which had been gently adjusting the man's blanket just moments before, were now frozen mid-air.
Her warm expression was wiped clean, replaced by shock.
The other maid felt her heart lurch violently in her chest.
The cold steel beneath her fingers suddenly felt like molten lead, and her plan, carefully woven in her mind just moments ago, unraveled into chaos.
The man's sharp gaze swept over them both, taking in their maid outfits, the neat aprons, the delicate lace headpieces.
His brows furrowed, confusion flashing in his dark blue eyes.
'Maids.'
He was surrounded by maids.
'But this… this wasn't right. None of this made sense.' he thought. 'Why were there two maids beside him? And… where was he?'
His breathing was steady, but his thoughts were a tempest.
He had been hit, no, crushed, by that damned truck.
A collision so violent it should have left his bones shattered, his body twisted beyond recognition.
Yet here he was, whole, sitting up, staring at two women in maid uniforms, and they… they looked nothing like medical staff.
'I should have been in a hospital.'
His mind raced, trying to piece things together.
'But this isn't a hospital.'
The room was too grand, too luxuriously adorned with thick velvet curtains, polished oak furniture, and a chandelier that cast a warm, golden glow.
The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, and the bedsheets beneath him were impossibly soft, far too refined for any medical facility.
His gaze returned to the maids, and his sharp eyes lingered, studying them in detail.
The first maid, the one closest to him, had dark orange hair that fell in soft waves past her shoulders, her expression a mix of shock and… something else, something like concern, but it was too steady, too composed.
The other maid stood closer to the door, her face pale, her expression locked between fear and panic.
And her hands… one of them still rested behind her back, her posture tense, like a coiled spring.
His instincts screamed at him, a cold, familiar feeling washing over him... the sense of danger.
His hand instinctively reached for his side, where he usually kept his weapon, empty.
Of course.
He was in strange clothes, simple but finely made nightwear, hardly his usual attire.
'What… is going on?' he thought
Dark's sharp, dark blue eyes scanned the room, his gaze darting from one extravagant detail to another.
Rich, velvet curtains cascaded down the towering windows, their deep crimson hue catching the soft, golden glow of the grand chandelier above.
Intricate silver patterns twisted and curled along the walls, and delicate porcelain vases stood on marble pedestals, their elegant designs dancing with painted roses.
This wasn't just any room, it was a room born of wealth, of luxury, of power.
'When… did I deserve to live in a place like this?' Dark thought, a faint, bitter amusement twisting in his mind.
No part of this matched his life, his reality, the constant gamble between life and death.
This… this was something out of a dream.
His gaze drifted downward, settling on the bed beneath him.
A bed so soft that his body seemed to sink slightly into it, yet firm enough to offer perfect support.
The sheets were a pristine white, threaded with silver embroidery that shimmered under the light, and the pillows were thick, plush, almost cloud-like.
'This bed…' Dark's fingers brushed against the fabric, feeling the cool, silken texture.
His chest tightened with a strange, conflicted feeling.
"This bed looks like the one I always dreamt of… the one I imagined I'd lie on in my last days."
A dry, almost mocking chuckle echoed in his mind.
'A dream, a childish, foolish dream.'
The life of an assassin who aimed to be the greatest had no room for such luxuries.
'A soft bed? A grand room?'
Those were fantasies reserved for the wealthy, the powerful, the ones he often hunted, not for someone like him.
A bed like this… would have been the last place he expected to die.
Cold alleys, dark warehouses, bloodstained streets, those were the stages of his life.
But here he was, awake, alive, and somehow… surrounded by a world that was as alien to him as it was alluring.
His eyes wandered again, tracing the ornate details on the ceiling, the delicate carvings along the walls, the faint scent of lavender that seemed to float in the air.
A small table stood by his bedside, holding a silver tray with a crystal glass filled with clear water.
A golden-framed mirror stood across the room, its surface reflecting the warm glow of the chandelier, and a thick, lush carpet stretched across the floor.
'Damn… this is expensive,' he thought, his jaw tightening slightly.
Even in his wildest dreams, he had never imagined himself touching, let alone lying on, something so luxurious.
But his wonder was a fleeting ember, quickly extinguished by the cold edge of reality.
'This isn't a hospital,' he realized.
That was a fact he couldn't deny anymore.
No hospital in the world looked like this.
Hospitals were sterile, filled with the scent of antiseptics, crowded with the constant beeping of monitors and the hurried footsteps of nurses.
But here… here was silent.
'If this wasn't a hospital… then...' he thought as his eyes relaxed slightly, and he let out a low chuckle. 'I am truly not in my world anymore'
Dark's gaze drifted from the grand, opulent room back to the two women standing near the door.
For the briefest of moments, they were frozen, rigid like statues caught in a painter's unfinished masterpiece.
Their wide eyes were locked on him, breath held as though the slightest sound might shatter whatever fragile reality they clung to.
And then, like glass crashing to the floor, the silence broke.
"A-AHHHHH!" Both women screamed, the piercing sound slicing through the serene luxury of the room.
Their bodies recoiled, stumbling back as though his mere presence was a threat.
The second maid face twisted with shock, her trembling hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with terror.
"H-How?! I… I thought he was dead!" she stammered, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief.
Veronica wasn't much better.
Her pale face lost what little color it had, and she staggered, gripping the edge of the bedside table as though it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing.
Panic swirled in her eyes, struggling to comprehend the impossible sight before her.
But Dark's focus had already sharpened on the second woman.
His gaze narrowed, his expression hardening into something cold and calculating.
There was something about her, an aura he recognized, an instinctive, clawing sense of distaste.
He didn't like her.
And Dark's instincts were never wrong.
Her voice was unmistakable, the same one he had listened to while unable to move.
And now, seeing her face, hearing her again in person, that feeling only grew stronger.
And experience told him that when he felt this way about someone, they were usually a threat.
An enemy hiding behind a mask.