Am·biv·a·lence
/amˈbiv(ə)ləns/
noun
the state of having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩...
Will not be accurate to the lore Best read in black Word Count; 5k (,,>﹏<,,)
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The moment I woke up from my nap, my head felt heavy—like it was swimming through fog. I really didn't want to get up. The bed beneath me was softer than what I remembered. Way softer. Luxurious, even.
Wait... what?
That thought alone snapped me fully awake.
I shot upright, and immediately regretted it. A splitting headache slammed into my skull—one of those migraines so intense it felt like it could take out a Victorian child on the spot. My vision blurred at the edges, and I clutched my head, trying to steady my breathing.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. This wasn't my room.
And this definitely wasn't my bed.
Fully awake now, I jumped out of the bed like it was seconds away from devouring me whole. My heart was racing, my limbs shaky with adrenaline. The room was unfamiliar, every inch of it too pristine, too polished—like a showroom pretending to be a bedroom.
I glanced down at myself.
A soft pink nightgown clung to my body, the edges lined with black fur that brushed against my skin like something out of a vintage film.
Cute. At least whoever kidnapped me had decent taste in sleepwear.
I guess.
A heartbeat away from a full-blown panic attack, I forced myself to move, pacing slowly around the room in stiff, cautious steps. The lighting here was warm, casting a golden glow from antique-looking lamps—like something out of an old family estate. Under any other circumstance, it might've been comforting. Cozy, even.
But I wasn't here willingly.
I caught sight of a mirror hanging above a carved wooden vanity and hesitated. Then I stepped closer.
My face stared back at me—recognizable, familiar... but not quite. The structure was the same, sure. But it was like someone had gone into a photo editing app and tweaked everything to look a little too perfect. Skin smooth. Eyes brighter. Lips fuller.
It didn't look fake. It just looked... enhanced. Unreal.
My hands trembled as they crept toward my reflection. I hovered for a second before pressing my fingers gently against my cheek.
It's as soft as it looks.
My stomach turned.
If my face was different, then either I was trapped in the world's most vivid lucid dream... or my kidnapper had somehow given me a full-blown plastic surgery makeover while I was unconscious.
