She was bright, cheerful, resilient, even book-smart when she needed to be, albeit a bit clueless in other aspects, most of all… I think she is wiser than she let on, I mean, she didn't tell anyone about her invulnerability, and she didn't snitch the fact that I left her to almost be killed by ErikDop… So she had some common sense, that didn't excuse her from not knowing the implications when I groped her boobs in the Poison Dragon's dungeon or when she used my real name with the New Destiny, though.

With all that said about Hailie… I took a moment to look down at myself. I was the one sitting outside with my back against the wall, trying to make peace with the fact that my life had boiled down to surviving, not living.

I had a life, of course.

A childhood, a (loving?) family, college, even a niche undergrad degree in mathematics that might have given me a future. Accountant, data analyst, some blue-collar path that could've been respectable, if not glamorous, hell, I could've just been a normal woman who drinks on Friday and go to the Bahamas once a quarter.

But then a cousin showed me a video game once, and I'd been sliding downhill ever since, rotting away in front of monitors. Gaming became oxygen, while everything else turned into static. And I was alone sooner than I ever thought I would. My life was going fine, at least, main downside's the constant feeling of body dysmorphia and monthly bleeding.

And yet here was Hailie, who by all accounts had drawn the short straw with her body, but could still do everything I could. Maybe even better… Hell, if she wanted to, she could probably defeat me in a sprint if she got the training for it, I don't know how, but rich people have magics.

Hailie had wealth, connections, endless support systems, her disability was… what, a minor debuff? Something brushed aside by the sheer weight of her family's resources. She didn't have to worry about rent, or grocery bills, or scraping together filthy paychecks of thighs pic to buy instant noodles, god… It's not- I'm…

I muttered under my breath, "It's unfair."

Because it was. She got everything handed to her, silver spoon from birth. A mansion, caretakers, even a harp to toy around in a sunlit room for three hours without interruption and the dread of the next rent pill. While me? I had nothing but envy, and a hoodie I hid in the closet, preparing to wear when the Sonders' finally decide I'm not worth it and throw me out.

I have to keep collecting that unemployment check just in case of a rainy day.

But that bitterness, and quite frankly, biblically accurate envy couldn't stay lingering in a pathetic mind for long, not in mine.

It always curdled into something uglier, something less noble. My mind drifted, and before I could stop it, I was imagining her posture in there, delicate hands fussing at strings, the way her hair probably fell across her cheek when she leaned too far. My thoughts slipped down the gutter, as they always did, shameful and raw.

I squeezed my eyes tighter, heat in my face, heart picking up the pace, my hands started wandering again… It started off slow, my neck, my shoulders, my ribs, and hips, inner thighs… But then I gasped and snapped back to it, electing to just start hugging myself. For this wasn't my room. This wasn't my space, I was sitting in the middle of the hallway, one wrong sound or weird movement away from being caught by some passing maid. I couldn't let myself indulge, not here, I clenched my fists against my knees, trying to ride the impulse out.

That was when I noticed the light dim before my eyelids.

Even with my eyes shut, I felt it: something blocking the sun from the hall. I opened them just in time to see a shadow looming above me.

There was someone who caught me.

"Ansh…"

And before I could even inhale, trying to explain the guilt away, a hand snapped around my throat and shoved my skull back against the wall.

Anshur Von Rodolfo, the ginger maid with freckles and an evil look was there.

Of all the people in this entire mansion that could've catch me in the filthy act of enjoying myself while listening to horrible music, she was the last one I wanted to see.

Her grip was tight against my throat while her face expressionless, except for the cruel twist at her lips.

"I knew you'd be lurking," she chuckled. "Filthy rat, always having filthy thoughts around my young madam."

"Your… young madam?" My voice came out rash, strangled against her palm. "Why are you still here? You were supposed to be gone… Eirlys said you don't need to serve me anymore! We should've been done with each other!"

I clawed at her wrist, tried to kick her shins from my half-sitting posture, but nothing landed right as my strength depleted and my reach was futile at this angle. She caught my arm and pinned it easily, her body weight pressing down until I couldn't move.

"You think it's that simple?" she said asked very gently, tightening her hold until my lungs burned.

I struggled harder, scraping my nails against her skin, but it was like trying to fight a statue, I just wish that anyone, just, anyone at all, to come and wrestle this bitch out of me.

Spots began to flash at the corners of my vision. The harp sounds from inside the room were still drifting faintly, but they sounded distant, warped, like they belonged to another world, like a tune of departure.

Anshur leaned closer, her words almost gentle against my ear as she gave me a… Kiss on the temple.

"Know this, vermin, this life is not for you."

And then the darkness pulled me under… That was when I knew, this life was indeed, way tougher than what I could've imagine.

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