"Kyaa! Lady Alice, you're bleeding!"
"What are you all doing just standing there? Hurry! Help her!"
"Someone bring a doctor—no, a priest too! Quickly!"
Alice could barely make out the voices over the ringing in her ears. The world around her was a blur of panic and footsteps. Maids rushed back and forth, faces pale, eyes wide with fear.
It wasn't surprising.
After all, a noblewoman had just appeared out of nowhere—bloody, barely conscious, and coughing up blood with every ragged breath.
No one knew how she got there.
No one dared to question it either.
Alice— now—felt like she was drifting in and out of a dream. Her vision swam, her body trembling from blood loss and something deeper, darker—something clawing inside her.
Her throat burned. Each breath scraped raw down her windpipe, and when she tried to swallow, it was like glass had been poured down her neck.
The pain was constant. Throbbing. Alive.
"Don't move her too much! She's losing too much blood!"
