As the dawn light began to break, Mary was awakened by the sound of a maid knocking at the door. She groggily climbed out of the small bed in the attic and called out to wake the other maid who shared the room with her. The coldness of the morning made her shiver as she immediately donned her maid's hat and morning uniform. It was a pink cotton dress with small floral patterns, and because she would be doing some cleaning work like tending to the stove, she tied on a rough gray burlap apron to avoid dirtying the dress underneath.
Mary was a housemaid in the Campbell household. The master of the house was a younger son of a noble family. As a second son, he could not inherit the family lands and estate. However, he received a considerable annual trust fund, which allowed them to rent a semi-detached house near Soho Square, rather than being cramped in a small apartment.
A few days ago, the master and the eldest son had set off for the Francie Principality and would be gone for about three months. At the moment, the household was only occupied by the lady of the house and her two daughters.
Mary had to start the fire in the fireplace and tidy up the rugs by their beds before the family awoke, so that the rooms would be warm when they got up. She first went to the lady of the house, Mrs. Campbell's bedroom, and then to the eldest daughter's room.
She did not go to the youngest daughter, Elena's room.
It wasn't that she didn't want to, but a week ago, Elena had fallen ill. The family doctor diagnosed her with typhoid fever, and after taking several doses of medicine, her condition hadn't improved. The servants had taken turns looking after her, but her illness had grown worse, and if nothing changed, it was likely she wouldn't survive for much longer.
A turn of events occurred the day before yesterday when the family doctor brought in a mysterious guest. The visitor was wrapped up tightly, her figure plump, and her face covered by a thick, dark veil. She seemed incredibly mysterious, and as she passed through the hallway, the air around her smelled faintly fragrant.
Mary had never seen this guest in the five years she had worked at the Campbell household. Moreover, due to Elena's illness, the family had suspended all social visits and gatherings for the season.
After the new guest arrived, Mrs. Campbell claimed that Elena had recovered. However, Elena hadn't come downstairs to eat the previous two days.
Moreover, Mrs. Campbell instructed the maids not to enter Elena's room. The maids no longer needed to tend to her fireplace, clean, dust, or collect the wilted flowers and laundry that needed to be washed. Even the meals that were delivered to the door remained untouched.
Elena's room had become a taboo within the Campbell household.
There was an invisible line between the servants and the masters: the servants lived on the top floor attic, and when they needed to go to other floors, they used a special servants' staircase. When they left the house, they took the side door. Housemaids like Mary were expected to keep out of sight, so even though they lived in the same building, they were considered the "invisible spirits" of the household.
In other words, if Mrs. Campbell didn't want anyone to interact with Elena, no one would.
In just two days, the servants had begun to suspect that Elena had either died, run away, or turned into a ghost. Mary didn't believe these ridiculous speculations, but every time she passed by Elena's room, she couldn't help but wonder: *What happened to Elena?*
Elena herself didn't know.
It seemed like she had been in a long dream, in which she was an ordinary girl from the 21st century. She grew up, studied, worked, got hit by a car, died, was reborn, grew up again, fell ill, and was on the brink of death. She also dreamt of some fragmented images, one of which was a group of grotesque, ugly creatures. They were bloated, with deep red skin and sharp fangs. One by one, they were captured and burned on crosses.
It was a terrifying dream, but what was even more horrifying was that when she woke up and opened her eyes, the first person she saw beside her bed looked just like the monsters from her dream. She almost fainted in fear.
"I tried to persuade your mother," the woman's voice was hoarse as she spoke while putting on gloves and her dark veil, her whole body wrapped up tightly. "But she insisted on saving you."
She handed Elena a mirror. In it, Elena saw her own face: swollen and red.
Elena couldn't recall the shock she had felt at that moment. It wasn't her fault. Anyone who woke up to find themselves disfigured would probably react the same way.
As she lay frozen on the bed, the veiled woman began packing her things. She collected the candles that had been burning in the four corners of the room, a dagger engraved with unknown symbols, a small watering can made of silk thread and herbs, and a silver tray with salt, sand, and unrecognizable herbs. The room still carried a faint scent of smoke and blood.
"This is the ritual magic to transform you," the mysterious woman explained, noticing Elena's gaze. "I'm glad you survived and became one of us. My name is Vera."
Although Elena was still dazed, she instinctively felt a sort of "seniors" vibe from the woman. She couldn't help but ask, "Us?"
"I'll explain from the beginning. Your family doctor is very curious. He knows one of us, and we have a club," Vera said patiently. "You were too ill for him to save, so he suggested to your mother that I transform you into one of us, a creation of the Goddess Blackati. Do you know of Blackati?"
Elena certainly didn't know. Her father, Mr. Campbell, was a devout believer of the God of Wealth and Prosperity, while Mrs. Campbell prayed daily to the Goddess of Home Protection. These gods were widely worshipped and had their own parishes and churches. Blackati, on the other hand, was not known in Luenston, and Elena wasn't sure if there were followers of Blackati elsewhere.
"Most of the people in our club are those who are near death. To survive, they pray to the Goddess Blackati for their lives to be extended," Vera continued, "The price is that even if you survive, you will have to drink a cup of blood every month. You will become ugly and terrifying, without a heartbeat or breath. Finding a husband will be difficult, and many of the people in the club have moved away from their families because they are afraid of them."
Moreover, due to Blackati's obscurity, her creations would be discriminated against and would have to live in secrecy. Vera didn't need to say this; Elena could already understand.
The situation of the Goddess Blackati was undoubtedly dangerous. It could bring disaster to families. However, Elena understood that her mother had taken a huge risk to save her life.
Just as Elena was feeling moved, Vera spoke again. "My mother also tried everything she could to save my life, and I am grateful to her, even though she no longer wants to see me."
Elena remained silent for a moment. That's right, her current appearance could no longer be classified as "human." Thinking of this, she couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness.
"I understand how you feel, but there's something even more important I need to tell you," Vera said, sitting elegantly on a hard wooden chair in front of the bed, her posture forming a stark contrast to her appearance. "Blackati is the Goddess of Witchcraft, Magic, Undead, and Herbs. She also possesses the ability of foresight. As her creation, we receive visions of the future when we are connected to her. The connection is strongest during the transformation."
Elena immediately recalled the dream she had just had, her face turning pale.
"You saw it too, didn't you?" Vera asked.
"I don't know if what I saw is the same as what you saw," Elena pulled up the blanket, "But I dreamt that we were captured and burned to death."
"Yes, we all saw it," Vera responded calmly. "Living a few more days is already a blessing, isn't it?"
Elena admired her calmness and expressed her desire to live a few more years.
Vera gave Elena the address of the club, which was located near Saint James Square on Beimer Street. Saint James Square was to the south of their residence, separated by Charing Cross Street, nestled next to the grand palaces and administrative centers of the nobles, known as the "paradise of the wealthiest people," where many renowned clubs gathered.
In addition to the address, Vera gave Elena a badge of the club. It depicted a cloaked figure, and the name "The Liberators Club" was inscribed on it.
The badge now sat in Elena's hand.
For the past two days, Elena had stayed indoors. She told her mother that she needed some time to herself, and Mrs. Campbell, worried that she might be depressed, had come to knock on her door every two hours. Her elder sister, the eldest daughter of the Campbell family, didn't know what had happened and often spoke to her through the door.
Elena locked herself in her room, not out of self-pity, but because she genuinely needed time to adjust to the situation. *I've been disfigured!!!* At the same time, she was testing if there were any differences between herself now and ordinary people. Using a trendy term, she was essentially "searching for her identity."
The
monthly need to drink blood naturally reminded her of the famous vampires from her past life. However, these vampires were pale-skinned and aristocratic-looking, capable of turning into bats and possessing superhuman strength. They didn't need to eat, and their only weakness was the sun—though in the latest versions, they just sparkled in the sunlight. But of course, Elena was far from that kind of ideal.
As for her appearance, she didn't want to discuss it further. Her physical abilities had certainly improved, but she was still far from superhuman. If she had to compare, her flexibility was like that of an Olympic gymnast, her strength that of a weightlifter, and her speed was yet to be tested. But, unfortunately, she couldn't turn into a bat.
Also, she hadn't eaten anything yesterday, and now her stomach was growling. This showed that drinking blood didn't fill her up. Still, given the choice between a disfigured body, monthly blood-drinking, hiding away, and not knowing when she might die, it was worth it for a second chance at life.
"However, staying locked up in my room isn't the answer," Elena sighed. If she were in the 21st century, being a shut-in wouldn't be a big deal. After all, food could be delivered with a click, and nothing was lacking. But now, she had to go to the club, check out the visions she saw in the prophecy, and figure out what was going on. She couldn't just sit here and wait for death. After all, she had managed to survive, and she certainly didn't want to die again anytime soon.
"It's time to figure out how to go out," she moved closer to the only mirror in her room made of peach wood, gasping in shock as she saw her reflection. The damage to her appearance was painfully clear. "Is there any way to hide this?"