I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my own reflection.
More accurately—
I was staring at the thing on my face.
"…Nova," I whispered, slow and deliberate, like one might speak to an alive grenade with a loose pin and temper.
"Get. Off."
The spectacles did not respond.
Instead—
They dissolved.
Not slipped.
Not fell.
They broke apart into motes of white light, so fine they looked like dust caught in a sunbeam. Before I could even process what was happening, the light surged forward—
Straight into my forehead.
"HEY—!"
Too late.
The sensation was cool. Weightless. Like snow melting directly into my skin.
I staggered closer to the mirror.
For half a heartbeat, a faint white sigil flared between my brows—a small dragon's head, sharp-eyed and ancient, etched in pure light.
Then it vanished.
Gone.
No mark.
No glow.
No proof.
I blinked.
"…That's inconveniently convenient," I muttered.
Nova said nothing.
That somehow made it worse.
I sighed. "Next time, warn me before you brand my forehead."
Still nothing.
I rubbed my brow once, decided I didn't want answers, and turned toward the door.
Bath.
Now.
Before something else ridiculous happened.
...
The corridor leading to the bathing chambers was quiet, lit by soft crystal lamps that reflected gently off polished stone. My muscles ached. My energy felt sluggish. My thoughts were knotted enough that the silence was a mercy.
Victoria appeared beside me without a sound.
Naturally.
"I have prepared a special medicinal bath," she said calmly. "It will accelerate recovery and stabilize your internal circulation."
I nodded tiredly. "As long as it doesn't involve electricity, poison, or experimental drugs."
She smiled faintly. "No promises."
…That did not inspire confidence.
The bathing chamber doors slid open smoothly, warm steam spilling into the corridor in rolling waves. The scent of herbs filled the air—earthy, clean, familiar.
Grounding.
I stepped inside.
The doors closed behind me.
Then locked.
I stopped.
"…Victoria?" I called.
No response.
I exhaled slowly. "Of course."
Privacy.
Safety.
Or psychological warfare.
At this point, questioning her motives felt like a waste of energy.
I stripped off my outer clothes and lowered myself into the bath.
Warmth wrapped around me instantly.
Muscles loosened.
Breathing slowed.
For once, the world stopped trying to murder me.
I relaxed.
For exactly three seconds.
Then—
I smelled something else.
Not herbs.
Not minerals.
Fresh water. Crisp air. A faint floral undertone.
Clean.
Familiar.
My heart skipped.
"…No," I whispered.
Very slowly, I turned my head.
Arial.
She was already in the bath, her mermaid form partially submerged. Red scales shimmered beneath the surface. Long hair drifted around her shoulders, refusing to settle. Her face was flushed a deep, unmistakable red.
She froze the instant our eyes met.
Then she turned sharply away.
"I—I was instructed by the head maid," she said quickly, voice barely above a whisper, "to assist you with the bath."
My brain shut off.
Rebooted.
Crashed again.
"…Victoria," I muttered darkly.
Before I could protest further, Arial moved.
Careful.
Professional.
Focused.
Too focused.
Her hands settled on my shoulders, applying the medicinal solution with precise, ritualized movements, purifying energy flowing with practiced ease.
My entire body reacted.
Not painfully.
Not dangerously.
Just—
Too much.
Every nerve lit up like it had been struck by lightning.
"W-Wait—Arial, you don't have to—!"
"This is part of my duty," she said earnestly, still refusing to look at me. "And it will significantly aid your recovery."
"I'm recovering just fine—"
"You are not," she said firmly.
A Level 73 mermaid's strength and control were not negotiable facts.
I shifted back.
She adjusted without effort.
That was enough.
I stopped trying.
I lost the battle in under ten seconds.
Mentally.
Emotionally.
Dignity-wise.
"…This is hell," I whispered.
"I'm sorry," Arial said softly. "But please endure it."
I stared straight ahead, face burning, desperately trying to think of anything else to keep something from rising.
Tax forms.
Dungeon mechanics.
Funeral statistics.
None of it worked.
Nova remained silent.
Not absent.
Silent.
Deliberately so.
After what felt like an eternity—but was probably only a few minutes—Arial finally withdrew her hands.
"The treatment is complete," she said, voice steadier now.
I exhaled shakily, sinking back against the edge of the bath.
"…Thank you," I managed.
She nodded once, still turned away.
Then she slipped beneath the water, shifted back into her human form, and exited without another sound—leaving only faint ripples behind.
I did not look.
Out of respect.
And self-preservation.
Moments later, the door unlocked.
I stayed where I was.
Steam rising.
Heart pounding.
Mind blissfully empty.
"…I am never trusting Victoria again," I said weakly.
From somewhere far away, I could swear I heard soft laughter.
And for the first time since my awakening—
I realized something truly terrifying.
Surviving monsters was easy.
Surviving people?
That was going to be the real challenge.