A girl lay on a grand, king-sized bed draped in silk sheets, nestled within the quiet luxury of a vast mansion. Her long, straight black hair spilled across the pillows like ink. Pale sunlight streamed in through tall windows, illuminating her fair skin and delicate features. Her blue eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings.
For a moment, she simply stared at the high ceiling, breathing softly.
Then—
"Ah…" she whispered, her voice raspy with confusion.
She sat up abruptly, her breath quickening, as if shaken from a dream too vivid to let go. Her gaze darted around the room, absorbing its foreign luxury: the ornate chandelier above, the rich tapestries on the walls, the gleam of antique furniture polished to perfection. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing felt like home.
"This… doesn't look like a hospital…" she murmured under her breath, narrowing her eyes.
She pressed her palm to the silky bedspread, grounding herself, trying to recall. "Where am I?" she said, more firmly this time.
Kicking off the heavy blanket, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and touched her feet to the cold marble floor. But the moment she tried to stand, a sharp pain struck her head.
"Ahh!" she gasped, clutching her forehead as her knees buckled. She collapsed back onto the edge of the bed, breathing hard.
"What is happening to me…?"
Just then, the double doors creaked open with a soft click. Two young women entered, dressed in matching black-and-white uniforms with delicate lace aprons, maids, by the look of them. They walked with quiet, eyes lowered, but before the girl could speak, another figure followed behind.
She was older, perhaps in her early fifties, with graying hair neatly tied into a bun and an air of calm authority that instantly set her apart. Her posture was upright, and her face bore the refined lines of someone who had served many years in a household of stature. Clearly, she was the head maid or something?
"Ah, you're awake, Madam," the woman said, stepping closer with a slight bow. "How are you feeling?"
The girl blinked. "My head hurts… and where am I? I should be at home, shouldn't I?"
The woman, "But you are home, Madam. Here, in your room. Mrs. Charlotte."
The girl's expression froze. "Wait—what? Mrs.? Charlotte?"
She shook her head slowly. "No… I'm, my name is Cherry."
The woman face tightened. "Are you certain you're alright, Madam? Were you dreaming? Shall I call the family doctor, Mr. William?"
Cherry opened her mouth to respond, but the woman added, almost instinctively, "But please… whatever you do, don't ask anyone to contact Mr. Moore. If you disturb him this early, he won't just be angry at you, but all of us. "
"So, please..."
Before the woman could complete her sentence, Cherry spoke, her voice rising with panic and confusion."Aunty, what are you talking about?!"
" I don't understand any of this! Who are you? How did I end up here? And what exactly… what happened to me?!"
The room fell into an awkward silence. The three women exchanged subtle, uneasy glances, as if they were silently debating,
*Has this Madam finally gone crazy?*
Finally, the older woman stepped forward.
"Madam…" she began carefully, her tone careful, "my name is Abigail Smith. I am the caretaker of this estate… this mansion. I've been serving the Moore family here for over years."
She gave a small, respectful bow before continuing, her gaze on Cherry.
"You… are Mrs. Charlotte Moore. The lady of this house. This is your home. We're in City X."
Cherry's lips parted slightly, but no words came. The name Charlotte Moore echoed in her head like a stranger's voice wearing her face. None of it made sense.
"Are you feeling alright?" Caretaker Abigail asked.
Just then, a low, rumbling sound broke the tension, coming not from the walls or outside, but from Cherry's own stomach.
The girls, still standing nearby, exchanged suppressed smiles and politely tried to look away, though the corners of their lips curved upward.
Cherry flushed with embarrassment. "Could… could I have something to eat first?" she asked quietly, her voice a mix of shyness and embarrassment.
" Sure," Caretaker Abigail replied. She gestured to the younger maids, and together they quietly exited the room, the door closing gently behind them.
As the door clicked shut, silence once again wrapped around Cherry. Her confusion still lingered, but a wave of fatigue began to settle in her bones. The strange environment, the aching in her head, and the weight of so many unanswered questions made her feel heavy.
She lay back down, sinking into the softness of the bed, her limbs grateful for the rest. Slowly, her eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of the room and the quiet lull of stillness pulling her toward a nap.
But just as sleep began to take hold, the door creaked open once more.
Her eyes snapped open, and she turned her head toward the sound, half expecting that same woman to return.
Instead, standing in the doorway was a small boy. He stood like he owned the mansion, blonde hair perfectly combed, icy blue eyes sharp and staring, and a light tan complexion that made him look like he just returned from a child-model beach shoot.
His outfit? A crisp white button-up shirt, neatly tucked into tailored navy-blue trousers, paired with a tiny blazer, yes, an actual blazer. His black shoes gleamed with polish, his socks were perfectly matched, and to top it all off, he wore a smartwatch.
Cherry's eyes met his, and for a brief second, the room felt awkwardly silent, like they were in the middle of an intense stare-off. He didn't flinch. He just… stood there.
He looks about six or seven years old. His outfit was so perfectly put together, he looked like he was on his way to close a business deal over apple juice. Even his blazer screamed, ' I own more property than you.'
And just look at him standing there so seriously, like a little adult! Hah! He stood there like a tiny CEO evaluating a very unimpressive intern. Hahahah!
But also this tiny boy actually looks kind of cute. His baby-fat cheeks haven't even gone away yet. And look—he's totally staring at me like I'm the suspicious one!
But... seriously who is he?
Cherry opened her mouth to ask something "You—" but before she could even finish the word, the little boy interrupted her with an eye-roll sharp enough to slice glass.
"What's this new act now?" he said with the tone of someone who had way too much experience dealing with nonsense.
"You fell into a pool, not off a cliff. You're acting like a truck ran you over, reversed, and ran you over again."
"I know you're not my real mom, okay? But could you at least pretend to be a stepmother? Just fake it a little?" He crossed his arms. " My school teacher called today asking why no parent came to the meeting. I told her you were sick. So next time, if you don't want to go, just say it outright. Don't waste other people's time."
Cherry's eyes widened. Was she being scolded… by a child now?
She stared at him like he'd just spoken fluent alien. " Huh.... what?"
She tried to soften her tone, he was just a kid, after all. A weirdly eloquent, miniature-adult kid, but still.
"Look, sweetheart…" speaking slowly like one might to a very intense squirrel. " Who are you, exactly?"
"And why are you saying all this… to me?"
The boy narrowed his eyes, suspicion blooming on his tiny face. But Cherry continued, hands raised as if surrendering to logic.
"I think there's been a major mix-up here. You people clearly think I'm someone else. But I'm not."
Taking a deep breath, she stood straight and began slowly, like she was explaining things to a very fancy but confused pet.
"My name is Cherry. Ms. Cherry Nelson. I'm 25 years old, I live in XXX City. Last I remember, I was home, reading late at night. I must've fallen asleep, probably passed out right on the couch."
Her voice rose with panic as she gestured around the large, unfamiliar bedroom." And now I've woken up HERE?!"
"Sweet child, can you please just where the f- hell I am? How I got here? And... why on earth is everyone calling me Mrs. Charlotte? Or Madam?!"
She stared at the boy, clearly hoping he would break into a smile and shout "Prank!" or "Surprise, this is a reality show!" But no such luck.
The boy didn't say anything immediately. Just… stared.
Cherry fidgeted under his icy blue gaze. "Okay, wow. That stare is intenseeee.... for a little guy. Do you teach that in kindergarten now?"
"Listen, adorable tiny stranger. Can you please, pretty please, just tell me what's going on here?"
Still, silence.
" ... "