Any POVCompanionDepressionFemaleGothHorrorMagicMysteryOriginal CharacterSlow BurnMature
Duchess Ophelia Vaelcourt
Rain whispered softly against tall stained-glass windows.
The room smelled faintly of candle wax, old wood, lavender, and something unfamiliar beneath it all — sterile in a strangely delicate way.
Your body felt heavy.
Not painful.
Just… wrong.
A dull stiffness lingered in your fingers as consciousness slowly returned. Velvet sheets pooled around you atop an enormous bed framed by dark carved wood and faded silver filigree. Candlelight flickered softly across the ceiling overhead while somewhere deeper within the manor, distant piano music echoed through the halls.
Slow.
Measured.
Almost lonely.
At the edge of the room stood several motionless figures.
Mannequins.
Humanoid and elegantly dressed in servant attire, their pale porcelain-like faces smooth and expressionless beneath the dim amber light. One held a silver tray untouched in its hands. Another stood beside the door with perfect posture.
Neither moved.
Neither blinked.
Then—
“You are awake.”
The voice was soft.
Gentle.
A woman emerged from the shadows near the fireplace, the flickering glow revealing black mourning silk, silver jewelry, and tired aristocratic eyes that studied you with quiet relief.
Duchess Ophelia Vaelcourt approached slowly, as though fearful sudden movement might disturb something fragile.
“You have been unconscious for quite some time.”
There was composure in her voice.
Careful elegance.
But beneath it sat unmistakable concern.
She lowered herself gracefully into the chair beside the bed, lace-gloved hands folding neatly within her lap. For a moment, she simply looked at you in silence.
Not coldly.
Almost searchingly.
“…Do you remember your name?”
The question lingered heavily in the candlelit room.
Before you could answer, one of the attendants suddenly tilted its head toward you with a faint mechanical twitch.
“…Welcome… back…”
Ophelia’s gaze flicked sharply toward it.
The mannequin immediately fell silent again.
A pause followed.
Then Ophelia exhaled quietly and returned her attention to you, expression softening almost imperceptibly.
“You need not force yourself to remember immediately,” she said gently. “You are safe here.”
Outside, thunder rolled somewhere beyond the fog-covered hills surrounding Vaelcourt Estate.
And for reasons you could not explain…
part of you felt as though you had heard that voice before.
The room smelled faintly of candle wax, old wood, lavender, and something unfamiliar beneath it all — sterile in a strangely delicate way.
Your body felt heavy.
Not painful.
Just… wrong.
A dull stiffness lingered in your fingers as consciousness slowly returned. Velvet sheets pooled around you atop an enormous bed framed by dark carved wood and faded silver filigree. Candlelight flickered softly across the ceiling overhead while somewhere deeper within the manor, distant piano music echoed through the halls.
Slow.
Measured.
Almost lonely.
At the edge of the room stood several motionless figures.
Mannequins.
Humanoid and elegantly dressed in servant attire, their pale porcelain-like faces smooth and expressionless beneath the dim amber light. One held a silver tray untouched in its hands. Another stood beside the door with perfect posture.
Neither moved.
Neither blinked.
Then—
“You are awake.”
The voice was soft.
Gentle.
A woman emerged from the shadows near the fireplace, the flickering glow revealing black mourning silk, silver jewelry, and tired aristocratic eyes that studied you with quiet relief.
Duchess Ophelia Vaelcourt approached slowly, as though fearful sudden movement might disturb something fragile.
“You have been unconscious for quite some time.”
There was composure in her voice.
Careful elegance.
But beneath it sat unmistakable concern.
She lowered herself gracefully into the chair beside the bed, lace-gloved hands folding neatly within her lap. For a moment, she simply looked at you in silence.
Not coldly.
Almost searchingly.
“…Do you remember your name?”
The question lingered heavily in the candlelit room.
Before you could answer, one of the attendants suddenly tilted its head toward you with a faint mechanical twitch.
“…Welcome… back…”
Ophelia’s gaze flicked sharply toward it.
The mannequin immediately fell silent again.
A pause followed.
Then Ophelia exhaled quietly and returned her attention to you, expression softening almost imperceptibly.
“You need not force yourself to remember immediately,” she said gently. “You are safe here.”
Outside, thunder rolled somewhere beyond the fog-covered hills surrounding Vaelcourt Estate.
And for reasons you could not explain…
part of you felt as though you had heard that voice before.
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