"Either the company's tanking or the boss is about to scoop it up. So why's he making us babysit this corpse? Girl can barely lift a spoon," a heavy voice said, sounding annoyed.
"Bro, this is why the boss always sticks you on guard duty. You've got muscles where your brain should be," another guy grumbled.
"Idiot, she ain't some normal puny girl. She's the boss's trump card. Once he takes over the great north star, he'll be unstoppable; even that monster won't be able to touch him," he whispered in a low voice.
I was eavesdropping on my guards gossiping outside my door.
Trump card? That sounded like I was important in somebody's plans. Interesting.
But here's what made no sense—there were nearly two meters between us, and somehow I could hear them like they were murmuring right beside me.
"Really?! What's she gotta do with anything?" the first guy asked, confused.
"Come on, man. She's the one the Thalorins took in. The only heir to the ViraCore Corp. Heard she's that monster's bitch." the second guy hissed, resentment dripping in his every word.
My heart skipped a beat.
Me!? No way! Is that why everyone keeps staring at me like I eat people for breakfast?
"No-fu—"
"Ahem"
There was a shuffling sound, and then Monica barged into my room with a tray in her hand.
My ears suddenly went pop. It felt like my senses suddenly snapped into sharp focus.
I could feel the air moving inside the room. Monica's breathing sounded irregular. Did she run here? Or since my headache was finally gone, am I starting to hallucinate?
Monica gave me her usual disgusted look when she caught me staring at her. She went to the side cabinet and pulled out a wheelchair. Then she shoved me into a thin, cotton frock covered in bright, floral patterns.
Where did she even get this from?
"Good riddance," she muttered under her breath as she removed my fractured leg from the sling.
Honestly, if it were anyone else, they would've yanked her hair out by now. But she kind of amused me. It was like playing with a feral cat.
Cute.
Chuckling to myself, I gave her the sweetest smile I could muster. Funny how I've got quite the personality in this frail body. No wonder people act like I bite. Monica's face turned into a tomato.
The clock ticked to four pm.
Before Monica could shift into full beast mode, someone knocked on the door. One of the guards stepped inside with a woman trailing closely behind him.
She wore a black one-piece that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a high bun.
Short and petite, she barely reached the guard's chest. At a glance, she looked like a porcelain doll, but the beginning of age lines under her eyes gave her away.
Monica and the guard stepped out immediately, turning the room painfully quiet.
Now... who's she?
Brown eyes. She strangely looked familiar.
She was staring at me like she wanted answers I obviously didn't have. Sweat prickled the back of my neck. Irritation flared up inside me, making me want to snap at her.
Then she smiled. No—scratch that.
She smirked at me, at my state.
What the hell?!
I visibly swallowed the curses that were making their way to the tip of my tongue. This hide-and-seek game needs to end.
Brain, I want my memories back!
"Oh dear, look at you. You look sickly... like a rat. You poor soul, you really crawled back from the land of the dead," she said, flashing me a saccharin smile as she moved closer.
"Oh—Drake got called into a meeting last minute, so I'll be taking you home. You don't mind, do you?" she added, feigning concern.
Bitch.
I didn't need to analyze this dark witch to know what kind of person she was. If I'd had my memory and a functional body, I would've crushed her to a pulp.
But I was at the short end of the stick right now. Being a patient really didn't suit me. I lowered my gaze and gave her a subtle nod.
"Great!" she clapped cheerfully, like a kid who just got a new toy to break.
The guards stepped in immediately. One grabbed my crutches while the other picked me up like a doll and settled me into the wheelchair.
My world tilted from the sudden movement, and the next thing I knew—
I was in a car, sitting beside the driver, my fractured leg cranked up onto the dashboard while that woman lounged in the back like royalty.
At that moment, I genuinely pitied the people working for her.
Home. My last hope. Even though I didn't remember anything, the thought of home made me relax. My breathing eased a little.
After about ten minutes, the car pulled up in front of a heavy wooden gate. The driver got out and went to open the trunk.
"Thanks to me, we reached here in a jiffy, don't you think? I had a lovely ride," she chirped brightly, crossing her legs like I wasn't folded in half in the front seat.
Clenching my jaw, I gave her a weak, close-lipped smile.
The driver came out from behind, holding my crutches, and propped them by the gate. Then, without a word, he lifted me out of the car and set me down right in front of it. After that, he climbed back into the car and drove off, like this was just another Tuesday for him.
Wow... just wow.
Did she seriously just unload me in front of a gate like some kind of package?!
Next time we meet, it's either she or me. I vowed inside my head.
Every part of my body was throbbing by the time I managed to pull myself straight. I grunted and hauled myself upright, and then saw—a keypad.
Great. Of course, there's a keypad. Urgh!
This day just gets better and better. I'm sure Monica would love to see me like this.
Climbing over it in my current state was simply impossible. Guess I'd be spending the night outside then.
There was a small panel beside the keypad.
A fingerprint scanner?
I pressed my right thumb on it, and the gate groaned.
Beep. Click. Creak.
Open.
Home. I'm home!