Mystic - EN version

Chapter 4 : Servant

She woke up with a slight jump.

She had fallen asleep a few minutes ago, or maybe a few hours... She couldn't remember, but she did remember that she had collapsed from exhaustion and fallen asleep in a few seconds. All these events had made her tired, but also angry. And anyway, she had nothing better to do, had she?

Except wait and wait and wait. She couldn't read, as she only knew a small part of the letters. So she lay for a long time on the covers of the four-poster bed, still dressed in her white dress. Then she suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to examine the pendant before falling asleep. So she got up and leaned over the desk.

It looked like a tear that had fallen from the sky, as azure as the young girl's eyes. She thought it was very pretty, and could have stared at it for hours. But it looked familiar... Maybe it had belonged to someone she knew, or maybe even to her...

"If that's the case, she mused, couldn't it help me get my memory back?"

She stared at him closer and closer, hoping that a memory would spring from the depths of her mind, but to no avail. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

– I hope I'll remember something..., she murmured.

She rested her cheek on the cold desk and stayed like that for a long moment, until the knock came at the door. She jumped to her feet and ran to the door, thinking it was Duke Arthur who had come to her. But, to her great disappointment, the door opened and a little maid with curly ginger hair bowed to her.

– If miss will follow me.

The maid turned and left before she could reply. She just grabbed her pendant and rushed after the young woman. As she caught up, she asked her all the questions that were running through her head.

– Where am I? Who is this Duke Arthur? Why have I lost my memory?

– I'm sorry, but I can't answer that.

– But why? she exclaimed. Why can't anyone explain anything to me?

The maid was silent for a moment, then finally replied in a slightly saddened voice:

– Sir Arthur will answer all your questions, don't worry about that.

– But you can at least answer one of my questions, can't you?

– Ask your question, then.

– Do you know what my name is?

– No, I don't.

– And what's your name? she insisted.

– You've already asked your question.

The maid turned to her with a look that meant the discussion was over.

"Why won't she answer me?"

– In any case, we've arrived. I'll leave you with Sir Arthur, said the maid.

She stared at the girl for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, looking slightly sorry. She must have thought that the girl in front of her looked totally lost and finally whispered:

– My name is Catherine.

She turned on her heel and left without saying another word, leaving her speechless. She knocked on the ornate wooden door in front of her. But the moment she brought her hand up to the knocker, a voice she recognised as that of Duke Arthur ordered her to enter. She did so, but not without hesitation.

As soon as she set foot on the room's red carpet, the only thing she could see clearly in the dark room, Duke Arthur asked her to sit down. She squinted, looking around the room, and found a scarlet velvet armchair a little way off. She walked slowly over to it and sat down in it. It was rather comfortable, but she could not see Duke Arthur.

– Do you have the pendant I gave you? he asked in a flat voice.

– Yes... Yes, I do, she replied, trembling, although she didn't really know why.

– Put it on, he ordered.

She had clutched it in her hand so tightly that the teardrop shape had imprinted itself on her palm. She slipped it around her neck and as soon as the chain touched the skin at the nape of her neck, it grew hotter and hotter, so that the young girl gave a little cry and wanted to take the necklace off. But it seemed to stick to her skin: no matter how hard she pulled on the blue pendant that now hung around her neck, she couldn't get it off, and it hurt so much that she began to cry. The tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't stop them.

Through her tears, she saw that a strange tattoo had formed on her shoulder. She didn't even ask how it had got there; she was in too much pain to think.

Just before she collapsed, she noticed that the tattoo was a series of numbers and letters, but she didn't have time to decipher it. She fell forward, fainting from the pain, and did not hear Duke Arthur announce:

– From now on, you are my servant.