As the bright light shines upon me, I open my eyes. Wait—I have eyes? There is light? Am I not in the afterlife? Or… could this be heaven?
What I saw next was something I could never have imagined heaven to be like. I always believed it would be a green field with flowers flowing with the wind and a lake drifting by—though that's just a guess.
How could I have imagined any of this?
I look around, trying to take in the details of my surroundings. In my entire life, I had never seen a room as luxurious as this.
It was glamorous and elegant but not excessively so. The ceiling above me was painted a shade of gold, subtly reflecting the pale pink walls of the spacious room. The white marble floor beneath glimmered lightly as the sunlight fell upon it.
The room was spacious yet modest in its elegance. Soft cream-colored highlights were accented with carved wooden panels, their rich mahogany hue lending the room a warm, grounded feel. A tall window, draped with heavy velvet curtains in deep green, allowed filtered sunlight to bathe the grand room in warmth.
In the center, I lay on a four-poster bed, its frame sturdy and unembellished, except for a simple crest carved into the headboard. The linens were soft and clean, layered with a woolen throw rather than silk.
A wide writing desk sat by the window, neatly arranged with parchment, ink, and a quill, while a single bookshelf housed a handful of well-worn volumes.
A modest fireplace rested along one wall, its hearth swept clean, and above it hung a portrait—perhaps an ancestor, painted in subdued tones. The scent of lavender and dried herbs lingered faintly in the air, likely from the small sachet tucked into the dresser drawer.
Though it lacked the extravagance of a royal chamber, without any gold or silver in sight as I had seen in paintings, the room exuded quiet dignity and restrained wealth. Not a reflection of opulence, but of legacy. Restraint. Nobility that valued tradition over show.
So absorbed was I in the splendor of the room that I didn't notice someone enter—until she neared my bed.
She wore a long gray dress made of sturdy yet neat fabric, immaculate in its own way. With long sleeves and a high neckline, the outfit radiated modesty and formality. Paired with a white apron, cap, and black polished shoes she reminded me of the maids I'd seen in historical Western movies. Her words— confirmed my guess:
"Third young master, your fever finally broke the night before. The physician has checked your condition and prepared some herbs. Would you like to have them now or after breakfast?"
I couldn't recognize the language she was speaking in, but I understood her perfectly. That alone made everything feel unnatural, yet it seemed– to her, this was all completely normal. I needed to play along.
"Later." I replied cautiously.
"Yes, Third young master." then she added in a flat monotone: "The Baron and Baroness hope to see you at breakfast. Please come down after dressing. Your outfit has already been prepared and kept in the cloakroom. Would you like me to assist you?"
"No, you may leave."
She bowed slightly at my response and quietly exited the room.
As I reflect on our brief conversation, I realize she hadn't really given me a choice. Her words were phrased as options, but the outcome had already been decided— she simply wanted me to come down for breakfast.
She claimed I had a fever last night. In that case, should she not have asked if I wanted breakfast in my room instead? And the Baron wants to see me? And why did she call me Third young master? Could it all be a misunderstanding?
No, this definitely isn't heaven.
Wherever I am, it's unfamiliar, and I have no idea how I got here. Asking too many questions or acting oddly might give away that I don't belong— and that could compromise my position.
One thing I'm sure about is: I died.
So then… what exactly is this place?
No— this isn't the time for questions.
They can wait, what I need to do now is– observe, speak as little as possible, and try to understand what's going on. Since avoiding speech entirely isn't an option, I'll have to give vague answers— ones that can't be questioned. Moreover, not speaking much can always be explained by the fact that I'm supposedly unwell.
As I walk around the room slowly, stretching my muscles to relieve the stiffness in my body, I inspected the room closely—checking drawers, corners, beneath furniture—but found nothing helpful. Just the usual trappings of noble life. Nothing significant that could give me further clue about my situation.
I guess the answers await me in the dining hall... or maybe more questions? Anyway, I need to get changed or else, who knows I might miss the breakfast entirely.
Then, I stepped into the cloakroom—and paused.
There, standing before a tall mirror, I saw myself.
And I was left..… speechless.