Morning came slowly to the manor.
Sunlight slipped through the tall dormitory windows in pale golden bands, stretching across the wooden floors and creeping up the walls like cautious fingers. Dust floated lazily through the air where the light touched it, drifting in quiet spirals.
Liora stirred beneath the blanket.
For a moment she didn't move. She simply lay there, half-awake, listening to the stillness of the unfamiliar room.
The quiet felt… different.
Not empty.
Just calm.
Her eyes opened.
The ceiling above her was exactly the same as it had been the night before—aged wooden beams, faint cracks in the plaster, and a spiderweb tucked neatly into the corner above the window. The morning light made everything softer somehow.
She stretched slowly.
Her muscles complained after the long walk from town and the hours of exploring the manor the night before. But it was the comfortable kind of soreness that came after real sleep.
Real sleep.
That realization settled into her chest with surprising weight.
She couldn't remember the last time she had woken up somewhere without immediately wondering where she would go next.
The thought made her smile faintly.
Then she noticed the blanket.
It had been pulled neatly up to her shoulders.
Liora frowned slightly.
She sat up and looked down at it.
"I don't remember doing that."
She distinctly remembered lying down the night before and falling asleep almost immediately. The blanket had been folded at the foot of the bed when she arrived in the room.
She reached out and touched the edge of the fabric.
Still warm.
"…Maybe I did it half asleep."
The explanation sounded reasonable enough.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.
The wooden floorboards creaked softly beneath her feet as she crossed the room and opened the door.
The hallway outside was quiet.
Rows of small dormitory rooms stretched in both directions along the long central corridor. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows at the end of the hall, illuminating the dust that still clung stubbornly to the air.
Liora walked toward the staircase.
Her stomach rumbled as she descended.
"Breakfast would be nice," she murmured.
The manor didn't respond.
At least, not obviously.
The kitchen looked exactly as she had left it the night before.
Dust covered the counters. Several cabinet doors hung crooked on their hinges, and the old iron stove sat cold and dark against the far wall.
Liora stepped inside and placed her hands on the counter.
"Alright," she said quietly. "Let's see what we're working with."
A cabinet door creaked open behind her.
She froze.
Very slowly, she turned around.
The cabinet stopped moving.
It hung halfway open.
Liora stared at it.
"…Okay."
She walked over and peered inside.
A few cups sat on the shelf, coated in a thin layer of dust.
She reached in and picked one up.
"Still usable," she said thoughtfully.
When she turned back toward the counter, the cabinet slowly closed behind her with a soft click.
Liora didn't turn around this time.
Instead, she carefully placed the cup on the counter and folded her arms.
"…Are you helping?"
The kitchen remained silent.
A long moment passed.
Liora exhaled.
"Worth asking."
She turned toward the stove.
The iron plates looked old but intact. She knelt down and examined the firebox beneath them.
"Let's see if this thing still works."
She struck the flint she had brought from town.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
Liora leaned back on her heels and sighed.
"Of course."
She brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
"This place really does need repairs."
The stove ignited.
A soft blue flame bloomed inside the firebox.
Liora blinked.
"…Oh."
The flame flickered slightly, as if reacting to her attention.
"Thank you?" she said cautiously.
The fire flared suddenly, rising higher for a moment before settling back down again.
Liora tilted her head.
"That felt defensive."
No response came.
But when she turned to reach for the cup on the counter, one of the drawers beside her slid open a few inches.
Inside lay several pieces of silverware.
She stared at the drawer.
Then she laughed softly.
"Well, alright."
The laugh echoed through the empty kitchen.
For the next hour, Liora worked.
She opened the windows first, letting fresh air sweep through the room. The breeze carried the smell of grass and distant market smoke up from the town below the hill.
Dust rose in clouds as she swept the floor.
The cabinet doors creaked occasionally as she cleaned around them.
Once or twice she had the strange feeling that the room was… adjusting itself.
A bucket she had left near the doorway appeared beside the sink when she turned around.
A rag slid slowly across the counter toward her hand.
When she filled the old kettle with water, it began to heat even before she fully set it on the stove.
Liora didn't comment on most of it.
She simply worked.
At one point she wiped sweat from her forehead and glanced around the room.
The kitchen already looked different.
Cleaner.
Brighter.
More alive.
"This place isn't so bad," she said quietly.
Somewhere in the wall behind her, a beam creaked softly.
The sound carried a strange note of satisfaction.
Liora turned.
Everything went still again.
"…Right," she said.
She finished sweeping and set the broom aside.
The kettle began to whistle.
She hadn't lit the fire again.
Liora poured the hot water into the cup and leaned against the counter while it cooled.
A simple breakfast.
Nothing fancy.
But it felt good to have something warm in her hands.
She wandered back into the foyer while sipping the tea.
The morning light had grown stronger, filling the tall room with soft gold.
That was when she noticed the study door.
She was certain she had closed it the night before.
Now it stood slightly open.
Liora pushed it wider.
Inside the small room, the desk sat exactly where she remembered it.
But the ledger on top of it was open.
She frowned.
"I definitely closed that."
She stepped closer.
The page contained writing.
Caretaker Registered: Liora Vale.
Liora stared at the words.
"I didn't write that."
The ink looked fresh.
Almost wet.
She slowly turned the page.
A new heading had appeared.
Rooms Restored.
The page beneath it was blank.
For several seconds nothing happened.
Then the ink moved.
A thin black line slowly traced itself across the paper.
Liora leaned closer.
The letters formed one by one.
Kitchen.
She exhaled slowly.
"So that's what you're doing."
She glanced toward the door.
"You want the kitchen fixed."
The house remained silent.
But from somewhere down the hallway, a cupboard door slammed.
Liora smiled faintly.
"Thought so."
She returned to the kitchen with the ledger still fresh in her mind.
The room looked better already.
Sunlight poured across the counters. The air smelled faintly of clean wood and hot tea instead of dust.
She rolled up her sleeves.
"Alright," she said.
"If you want the kitchen restored, we'll start here."
Behind her, the drawer slid open again.
A cleaning rag fell onto the counter.
Liora picked it up.
"Subtle."
The rag did not respond.
But the stove flame burned a little brighter.