Fiction Forger

Chapter 12: A Glimmer Of Rest, And Shadows Of Fear

I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep, but before I knew it, the sun was already high, and the birds were chirping outside. My eyes groggily opened as the sunlight shone directly on my face. The warmth of the morning and the blinding light forced me awake, and I stirred, feeling a wet trail of drool on the window frame.

"Huh? It’s morning already?" I muttered, still half-asleep. This was the first time I had slept soundly since coming into this world. Despite the exhaustion from the past events, I felt surprisingly refreshed, as if my energy had been restored. However, my body still felt a bit heavy. I should have just laid down on that soft, inviting bed last night.

My stomach growled as I stood up and walked toward the still-locked door. I wiped the drool from my chin, sniffed my hand, and winced at the sour smell. Even my breath was terrible. Imagine two weeks without brushing your teeth or rinsing your mouth.

This world resembled the medieval age. Did they even have toothbrushes or any means of maintaining proper hygiene here? I remembered how clean the characters in the game looked and wondered if it was just for aesthetics. But after seeing the maid, the king and the members of the Guardian, they seemed clean. Except for them, everyone else had an unkempt appearance.

Though the fear from last night still lingered within me.

I eyed the doorknob, wondering what lay behind that door. I wanted to knock and ask, but fear held me back. "Never mind," I whispered, retreating to the bed and lying down again. It’s not like I’d die from skipping breakfast.

Not long after, one of the maids came in with a tray of food. It looked luxurious compared to the meager scraps I had been surviving on. After she left, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of delight. This was the first proper meal I’d had in a while, and the atmosphere, though strange, made it feel special. If only I weren’t confined to this room.

I quickly started eating, making a bit of a mess. Bread crumbs scattered, and some of the soup spilled onto the clean floor. I ate like a child—there’s no better way to describe the scene I was making.

As I was eating, the king entered the room. His eyes fixed on my small, hunched figure. He walked towards a flower pot and discreetly took something from it.

"Tell me your story," he commanded, standing idle as he pocketed the object.

I remained silent, unsure of what to say. I had already spilled everything last night.

"Speak," he said louder, startling me.

Hesitating, I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the right words. He sighed, his patience thinning. "Fine then. Tell me if you know anything more about Mordras."

What? Why is he asking? Isn’t he Mordras? Or was he not? Confused and nervous, I decided to ask directly. According to the novel, Mordras could disguise himself and talk in the third person while dressed as someone else. But he couldn’t escape the lie-detecting power of the lie-seeking stone, and I noticed he had one dangling from his wrist.

"so you aren’t Mordras?" I asked timidly, earning a surprised look from him.

His gaze hardened, becoming sharp and intense. "What made you think I am Mordras? Do you even know who I am?"

"Please, just say no," I whispered weakly, fear creeping back into my voice.

'What’s wrong with this child?' the king wondered, perplexed by my question. Still, he answered firmly, "No."

I kept my head lowered, a faint smile tugging at my lips. To him, I must have looked like I was on the verge of tears. But I heard his denial clearly, and the stone didn’t react. I was certain now that he wasn’t Mordras. The weight of fear lifted slightly off my shoulders.