It's been a week. SEVEN goddamn days.
She didn't move for once, didn't speak, didn't even sit down. Just stood there like some kind of statue. At some point, I started feeling like she wasn't actually there, like the whole thing was just my mind playing tricks on me.
It wasn't.
She was real, very real, and she had been standing in that exact spot for seven straight days.
Unlike everyone else in this world who could sustain themselves with mana for a long while in the absence of food, I had no access to mana. I was just a normal human. No—I was stuck in the body of a spoiled noble who had never once been starved in his entire pampered life, so it was an unwelcomed development. My body rejected it thoroughly. The pain I felt in my abdomen grew with time, and it reminded me just who Veronica was and what she was capable of inside this pocket dimension. Back then in the past, whenever she got really mad at me, she would do this exact thing as a sort of punishment, her way of making me realize just how helpless I was.
BAM.
The door came open. I sighed, tired, so damn tired. I was weak, so weak that I couldn't even lift my head to see who it was. Not that I needed to—it was probably that lunatic of a maid.
Haah.
"Good morning, Artemis! How was your night?" She asked it casually, like we were having a normal conversation. She approached the bed with light steps, tilted her head, and gazed down at me with a smile, like everything that happened last week was just my imagination.
I never really understood this maid, no matter how long I stayed with her. Back when I had transmigrated into this world and into this body, this was the very same thing I had to suffer through. But the moment I stepped out of the pocket dimension that first time, she completely changed, started acting more like an actual maid, so obedient and docile you could mistake her for an imposter.
Hmm.
I think I understand now why she was that way. The moment I got out of the pocket dimension, I had every right to dismiss her from service. Killing her wasn't an option since no one would help me do it, and me doing it myself was a myth since she was too powerful for me. But then why is she acting this way now? Why the games? Why the punishment? What's the point when she knows I can't do anything about it in here?
"..." I didn't respond.
She reached down and arranged me into a position where my head rested on her lap, then placed her hand on my cheek. I didn't need a mirror to see how pale I probably looked, how chapped my lips were. Just get me some damn food already. She stared at me for a while, her expression shifted slightly, then she sighed.
"I'm sorry, okay? I was wrong. I shouldn't have done that." Her voice dropped lower. "I was just angry with you, with how much you were ignoring me. I wanted to make you know how it felt to be ignored. I'm sorry. Please forgive me, master." She pressed her hands together like she was praying or something.
Lies. There was no way she was actually sorry. You couldn't tell me you stood still for a week straight just because you were mad—no one does that. This was calculated, this was punishment.
"Veronica," I muttered.
"Y-yes?" She answered quickly.
"Food."
I couldn't die for something this stupid. It would be an even worse death compared to my previous life. I couldn't let my body's condition deteriorate too much, and there was a reason for that, the same reason it took so long for my leg to heal back then. Artemis's inability to sense mana didn't just stop at making him powerless—no, he was unable to sense OR store mana, which meant anything requiring mana to function didn't work on him, and that included healing potions. That was why I was stuck in a wheelchair for so long back then. If my body could produce mana, I wouldn't have been in that position.
Wait. I think I'm saying this wrong.
My body REJECTED mana. That should explain it more clearly. That was why not only the potions couldn't work, but healing magic didn't work either. So I couldn't put my body in too severe a condition. Medicines don't exist in this world since only I could get sick—everyone else just used healing magic or potions. So letting my body deteriorate to the point where I would get sick would be bad, VERY bad.
At this point, she finally showed some reaction. Her face shifted and she looked scared. Perhaps she had finally realized the situation—I wasn't some everyday kid who could lose an arm and have it regrown by someone with high-level healing abilities. I couldn't get severely injured and just chug some healing potions to fix it. I would die if I got to that point. That was Artemis in a nutshell—the weakest that could ever be.
"I... wait... ah..." She looked confused, like she didn't know what exactly to do next. Perhaps she was considering giving me a bath first or something.
Just get me some food, woman.
Haah.
I feel so tired. Damn it. I want to walk again.