4 Enter, Hilde (1/2)

Silence fell.

Mere moments ago, she'd have had a lot to say about the fact that Yong Fan Shu only had three major aspects to her personality, none of which could be considered decent.

However, that identity had now been – for lack of a better term – ”salvaged.” All her usable parts were now owned by the female standing in the middle of the cube-shaped room. What remained of Yong Fan Shu was represented by the Cube's side that made up the floor she was standing on: it alone had turned black.

For several moments, she looked at the obsidian floor that seemed to emit its own light. Now that she was no longer Yong Fan Shu, everything about the actress became easier to see objectively.

On a personal level, she respected other peoples' abilities and valued authenticity in an industry where wearing masks was the norm. As a colleague, as long as she didn't outright dislike the other person, she was a perfectly civilized human being. If she truly hated someone, however, everyone will know it.

Acting was her life. That's not an exaggeration, she really had little else going on outside of work. Undeniably, she was talented at what she did, but aside from her ”sadistic tendencies,” there was another reason she favored villainous roles: she lacked the emotional capacity to play the heroine to her own satisfaction.

She did try in her younger years, but being an obsessive perfectionist, she knew her performances left a lot to be desired. She derived no pleasure from them. Even when others told her she did well, that was only her technical skills. She could not ”become” those warm and loving female leads the way she could easily slip into the skin of an antagonist, all because she did not have the capacity to feel deeply about anyone.

Only… that wasn't quite true. Back in her world, she had family and friends who genuinely loved her. When Yong Fan Shu had still been the active identity inside the Cube, she had willfully avoided thinking about how much they would mourn her loss.

To the person she now was, it didn't appear like Yong Fan Shu could not feel deeply, it seemed more like she had been irrationally reluctant to.

Then again, her assumption of this new identity was still incomplete. Maybe she was interpreting things wrongly.

She raised her eyes and looked at the wall directly in front of her.

”Prick?” she called.

A beat passed, then the voice asked, [Is that supposed to be me?] He had the gall to sound displeased. When it became obvious he'll receive no response, he conceded. [Fair enough. What is it?]

Drawing a deep breath to steady herself, Princess Hilde of Arnica answered, ”Please tell me about me.”

***

The bedroom door opened and closed. At the sound, the young woman dozing on a chair by the bedside started lightly. By reflex, she looked towards the bed's occupant to see if there were any changes from the last time she checked. Aside from the subtle shift in the angle of the late morning light, however, everything else was the same.

”She's still not awake?” the middle-aged woman who'd just entered the room asked, not bothering to lower her voice. She stopped beside the young woman's chair and stared at the girl who lay unconscious on the bed, her head wrapped so tightly in bandages that only a few wisps of her silvery blonde hair were left unconfined.

The physician attending the girl had told them that her skull was not fractured, which was miraculous enough. The way witnesses described how she fell off a galloping horse, no one would have been surprised if her head had smashed like an egg on impact with the ground. Other than bruises, however, she didn't seem to have any other injuries. The physician still put her neck in a brace – a precaution he half-thought unnecessary.

Earlier, he'd informed the women that injuries to the head were tricky to judge. Very often, they were also deadly. They would not know how severe this girl's case was until she recovers – or dies.

Everyone was more or less aware of that. They knew all anyone can do now was wait for her to regain consciousness.

”It's been more than a day,” the young woman on the chair answered, her worry evident. The physician had indicated that this was a cause for great concern.

Thinking there was little hope left, the older woman huffed in bitter exasperation. ”The stupid girl,” she said. ”Her elder brother just died, and the first thing she did was endanger her own life.”

”Mother,” replied her daughter in an imploring tone. ”She must have been very upset by the news.”

”Yes, she was upset,” the woman conceded. ”But not about her own brother's death.” The statement was met with silence. After all, there was no denying it. The speaker's tone softened as she said, ”I simply worry for you. If she also dies, it will be you who—”

”Mother, please…” her daughter interrupted gently. She sounded as tired as she looked: her deep-set, almond-shaped eyes had dark circles under them; her bronze-tinted golden curls were slightly unkempt. Ever since the other young woman was brought to their home the day before, she'd hardly left that bedside.

Her mother sighed. ”I'll call a maid in to stay with her. You rest.” Not giving her daughter a chance to argue, she left the way she came.

Silence returned to the room. No longer drowsy, the young woman whiled away the minutes watching the slow rise and fall of the bed occupant's chest…