A faint groan slipped past Emma’s lips as her lashes fluttered against the pale morning light. Her body resisted, heavy with fatigue, but the steady knock at the door forced her eyes open.

  She turned her head first, sluggish and reluctant, towards the window. A pale glow seeped through the glass, faint yet enough to reveal that dawn had already claimed this snowy land. Her lips moved in a silent grumble. The night was so short.

  Dragging herself upright, Emma let her silver-white hair spill messily across her shoulders as she rubbed her dull eyes with the back of her hand. Her small feet pressed against the floorboards with each slow step she took toward the door. She still wasn’t fully awake, her body swaying lightly, but the knocking left her no choice but to answer.

  The door creaked open, revealing the familiar face of the male attendant who had guided her, Liz, and Dan to their rooms the night before. His neat white uniform seemed almost too crisp against the hallway, and in his hands, he carried a small wooden box.

  “Good morning, little miss,” he greeted warmly, his lips curving into a bright smile.

  Emma’s white eyes blinked at him with little energy, her voice quiet and rough as she returned the greeting, “Good morning… Mister.”

  Noticing the faint drowsiness clinging to her expression, the attendant kept his cheerful composure. “Very sorry to bother you so early, but I may have something the queen personally ordered me to give you,” he explained as he extended the box.

  Emma accepted it with a slight nod, her sleepy gaze barely leaving his face, though her lips remembered to shape the words, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, little miss.” He inclined his head gently.

  Emma was already half-turned, ready to shut the door and collapse back into her bed when his voice stopped her midway. “Ooh, before I forget, little miss...”

  Her hand froze on the doorframe as her unique white eyes narrowed, heavy-lidded yet sharp, staring at him with the silent warning of someone robbed of precious sleep.

  The attendant swallowed lightly before finishing, “This evening, someone will be here to take you to the queen. That will be all...”

  He didn’t finish the sentence before a drawn-out voice slipped from Emma, stretched with exhaustion. “Thaaank… yoooou.”

  The words hung lazily in the air as the door shut gently but firmly in his face.

  He stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door before a soft chuckle left him. Shaking his head, he stepped back and began walking down the corridor, murmuring under his breath, “She seems very tired and stressed… maybe I should have come later.” His words faded into the stillness as his footsteps carried him away.

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  Inside the quiet room, Emma had already collapsed face-first onto the bed, her silver hair scattering over the pillow. The unopened box rested beside her on the covers, forgotten as sleep reclaimed her with ease.

  Her morning duty resumed once more.

  Sleeping.

  ******

  Hours slipped by in silence, broken only by the faint rhythm of Emma’s breathing. When she finally stirred, it was with a long exhale, her body rolling lazily across the soft bed until she lay flat on her back. The modest, fancy ceiling stretched above her, its pale patterns catching the light. Her white eyes blinked slowly as if her thoughts were reluctant to catch up with her waking body.

  I don’t feel like getting up, She sighed inwardly, her lips curving faintly with the thought. Just a little longer like this… maybe close my eyes a bit more, that’ll be fine…

  But almost immediately, her mind pushed back. No, no, no. I have things to do. I need to get ready for the evening meeting with the queen. I need to get up… She rolled her head to the side with another sigh. But right now, I don’t feel like it. Gosh, I’m getting more lazy…

  Her hand pressed against the sheets as she forced herself upright, her movements sluggish but determined. She shuffled toward the bathroom, her silver-white hair brushing against her shoulders with each step. Inside, she peeled away her clothes one layer at a time and placed them carefully into the strange machine fixed in the corner. The metallic frame gleamed faintly under the light, and the words etched on its side spelled out: [Washing Machine]

  “Washing machine…” Emma muttered under her breath, tilting her head slightly. It resembled the one she had back home in Windfield, though that one ran on magic. This machine felt different, foreign, as though powered by something entirely different. She lingered for a moment, curious, before shaking her head and letting it be.

  She stepped into the bath, letting the warmth soak her skin, washing the fatigue away. She lathered her hair, rinsed it clean, then wrapped herself tightly in a towel. With steady hands, she brushed her teeth before stepping out, leaving the machine to finish its quiet work.

  The air outside the bathroom felt cooler against her damp skin as she crossed the room, her towel clinging around her form. Her gaze drifted toward the bed, and there it was. The box. The one given to her by the attendant earlier that morning.

  Emma paused, her curiosity stirring as she walked closer. Her fingers brushed over the lid before she gently lifted it open.

  Inside lay two sets of clothes.

  The first was a gown of soft light blue, elegant in its cut, with the design of a frost flower blooming at its center. The second was a dress of pure white, simple yet luminous, as though it held a purity untouched by time.

  A small smile tugged at Emma’s lips. The sight of the white dress sparked a memory, clear and vivid, of the trance she had fallen into before. In that blank, canvas world, she had been wearing this very same dress.

  I think I’ll wear this to meet her this evening, Emma thought, her fingers brushing over the fabric with quiet fondness. She lifted her head, glancing toward the window, trying to gauge the time. Morning, afternoon, she needed to know how much longer she had before the meeting.

  But what her eyes caught was not the weather.

  At the edge of the window, perched against the pale frame, lay a black furry feline figure. Its sleek body curled neatly, its head tilted ever so slightly in her direction. its eyes, once golden, bright and catlike, now deepened into a glowing blue.

  A calm, consuming light that seemed as though it could devour all things.

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