Are the rooms here free?

  The thought settled in her mind with each step she took, her boots brushing softly against the polished wooden floor, her gaze flicking briefly to the attendant, who led the way with the same measured, steady gait. His posture was upright, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

  Emma’s silver lashes lowered as her gaze now lingered on him. The question bubbled louder inside her chest until she could no longer keep it. Her voice broke the silence gently.

  “Mister…”

  At once, the attendant glanced down at her, his steps never faltering. A courteous smile eased onto his face, polished yet sincere, as though he had already been expecting her to speak.

  “Little Miss,” he said softly, his tone respectful but warm. “It seems you have a question. How may I be of help?”

  Emma tilted her head slightly, her silver-white hair shifting against her fluffy coat. A faint smile touched her lips in return, though her fingers brushed absently against her coat, betraying the nervousness she held.

  There was a stillness between them, a calm heartbeat of silence, before Emma finally spoke again. Her voice was quiet but firm,

  “If I may… I would like to ask if the rooms here are free for travelers, or…”

  Her words trailed into the air, lingering like frost vapor, as if waiting for the attendant to give the answer before her thoughts tangled further.

  He responded without delay, his tone clear yet composed. “On a normal basis, these rooms are paid,” he explained, the respect in his manner unwavering. His eyes flickered ahead for a moment before he continued, “But you three are guests whom the Queen herself has approved as special guests.”

  Emma blinked, her steps faltering ever so slightly at his words. “Special guests…?” she repeated under her breath, almost questioning herself rather than him.

  The attendant’s smile deepened faintly, and he lowered his tone as though sharing something meaningful. “Little Miss, did you not notice a ball of light hovering around you earlier?”

  Emma’s eyes widened as the memory surged back. “Ooh…” The sound slipped out of her without thought, soft and soundless, as her lips parted slightly.

  She remembered it vividly now, the glowing orb that drifted slowly in arcs above her head, its movements unhurried, almost intentional. The way its radiance spilled downward, not in harsh brightness but like liquid light, pouring gently onto her, onto Jett, Liz, and Dan. The warmth of it had pressed against her skin like a tender caress, brushing across her cheeks.

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  It felt alive, like something reaching out, cleansing them as though acknowledging their presence. The faint blue shimmer had lingered in her vision long after, wrapping them in a glow that had left her in awe.

  Her white eyes softened as she let the memory replay, her lips curling faintly at the edges.

  So that’s why Jett brought us here… she already knew what the light represented.

  The thought pressed quietly in Emma’s mind, though almost at once a faint frown curved her lips downward. But… does the Queen know about me? I didn’t tell anyone I was coming, neither did I...

  Her reflection cut short as another memory pushed forward. She remembered that trance, that strange place where she had been dragged, the blank canvas world. The wooden puppet flashed vividly before her eyes, its stiff limbs twitching as it tried to pull the strings of her existence. And then, clearer still, she recalled the voice that had echoed through it before she left. The voice had corrected Emma, reintroducing itself as ... A Miss.

  Her white eyes widened slightly. So that’s the Queen?

  A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, though it was quickly colored by warmth in her cheeks. The memory of her bluntness and her lack of courtesy at the start of the strange meeting, made her face flush with quiet embarrassment.

  While she lingered in thought, her steps slowed until the attendant’s voice brought her back. He stopped before a door, turning to her with that ever-polite smile still in place.

  “This will be yours, Little Miss—Room 434,” he said smoothly, his hand resting lightly against the polished handle.

  Emma blinked herself back into the moment, bowing her head slightly with gratitude. “Thank you, Mister,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that wasn’t forced but genuine.

  The door eased open with a muted creak, and Emma slipped inside. Behind her, the attendant closed it with care, the click of the latch sounding like the final punctuation of the day.

  What greeted her eyes was a modest chamber, yet crafted with elegance that lifted it above ordinary. The bed was draped in sheets of pale frost-blue, the wooden frame polished until it reflected the soft lamplight. A small desk rested at the corner of the bed, its surface clear except for a crystalline vase holding a single white blossom. The curtains at the window, light as snow, hung with a grace that made the entire room feel calm and deliberate.

  But Emma barely had the strength to admire its beauty as a deeper heaviness rolled through her body, her limbs dragging as if she carried invisible chains. She let out a small, breathy chuckle, her lips curling tiredly.

  “Yeah… my body’s out cold,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

  Her fingers moved clumsily to her coat, tugging it from her shoulders. She folded it over the nearest chair without care, her motions slow. Beneath, her simple attire was revealed: a dark blue and light blue shirt with sleeves ending at her elbows, and an ash skirt that flowed down neatly to her knees. She removed her boots, then exhaled deeply as though even the weight of everything had been too much to bear.

  Her steps carried her forward, dragging softly over the floor until she reached the bed. Without hesitation, she let herself fall.

  Puff!

  The sound was soft, almost like a squash pressed down, as the bed dipped and caught her. Her face buried flat against the sheets, the cool fabric brushing her skin. Her body surrendered at once, and the last threads of her thoughts unraveled.

  Sleep claimed her swiftly and silently.

  In the quietness of the modest room, only the faint rhythm of her steady breathing remained.