That Time I Started A Life In Another World

Interlude: The Youngest Maid

I remember it. Vividly.

The night that our village was attacked by the Witch Cult.

It was a truly terrifying night.

The burning buildings, the corpses of innocent people and the blood.

Ooh the blood.

Blood was everywhere.

Seeping into the ground, sprouting into the sky, on people, on the buildings, on my dad, my mom, me.

All I saw was blood.

I could feel my legs burning from overworking, I could feel my lungs gasping for air that I couldn't give, I could feel my eyes drying out from having cried everything out of them, I could feel my stomach turning and my stomach juices coming out of my mouth and nose, I could feel my heart beating faster than I thought it ever could.

I felt like I was in hell itself.

The only thing keeping me sane were my mom and dad.

They tried to distract me from the awful sight around me, needless to say that it didn't work.

An attack from the Witch Cult isn't something that can just be ignored or forgotten.

I could remember my mom telling me: "Everything is going to be fine. Just follow dad and you'll be safe."

I remember running alongside dad while looking back at mom standing to face the Witch Cultists with a fearless smile. Her back looked so big back then.

...

That Witch Cult attack had a surprisingly small amount of casualties. Or so my dad said.

I couldn't disagree with him more.

The amount of corpses I saw was nowhere near small.

But in return for this 'small' amount of casualties, a lot of people got sick.

Most of those who got sick were people from the frontlines.

My mom was no exception.

Most people who got sick died not long after, but my mom pushed through it.

We could see that she was losing her strength, but it was happening much slower than for the other people.

In order to make sure that she didn't die, my dad worked hard and payed a healer to heal her.

But the healer couldn't do much.

Her complexion improved a bit, but she was nowhere near healed.

Even from another room I could hear how angry my dad sounded.

After the healer left I could also hear him cry.

But no matter how much he cried or how angry he was, whenever I entered the room, he would always look at me with a smile.

I was also worried for my mom, but my dad tried his best to make sure that I wouldn't be sad.

He couldn't do much, but he did his best.

After the failure of the first healer, he started working even more.

This made me feel more lonely, but I could manage. He was doing this for the sake of my mom after all.

I also tried to work or help in some way, but my father always scolded me for that. He always said to enjoy my youth. And so I did.

Whenever I was with friends I played with them, talked with them, laughed with them.