The Royal Agreement

Chapter Four

My very good slumber was rudely interrupted by a soft but persistent knocking on my door. I groggily rubbed my eyes, blinking at the clock on my nightstand. Two hours had passed since I’d collapsed onto my bed.

Panic quickly set in as I remembered the homework excuse I’d given earlier. I scrambled off the bed, hurriedly grabbing two random books, my pen set, and a couple of notebooks. I arranged them haphazardly on my desk, making it look like I’d been deeply engrossed in some serious study session instead of taking an impromptu nap.

I took a deep breath, trying to smooth down my hair and make myself look somewhat presentable, before rushing to open the door. When I did, I was greeted by the sight of Victoria, the elegant guest from earlier, standing in the hallway. I pressed my lips together because I felt a rush of awkwardness.

What was she doing up here? And why was I just staring at her like a deer caught in headlights? It took me a second to realize that I was blocking the doorway, and I hadn’t even invited her in.

Great move, Ciella—really polite.

“Can I come in, dear?” she asked gently, her voice cutting through my internal scolding.

“Oh! Yes, of course,” I stammered, quickly stepping aside and opening the door wide enough for her to enter my chaotic domain.

Victoria walked into my room with the same poise she’d shown downstairs, her eyes subtly taking in the surroundings. I suddenly became hyper-aware of every little thing out of place—the pile of clothes on ’the chair,’ the books stacked haphazardly on my desk, and the random trinkets scattered across my dresser.

Normally, I’m pretty neat, but today, my room looked like it had been hit by a small, organized tornado. And here was this woman, who looked like she belonged in a palace, stepping into the midst of my controlled chaos.

“Your parents are busying themselves with dinner preparations,” she said as she casually surveyed my room. “So I made myself preoccupied by roaming around the household.”

I tried to hide my embarrassment as she walked around, her presence making the room feel even smaller than it already was. She seemed so out of place here, like she should be sitting on a luxurious throne rather than a simple chair in a college student’s messy room.

“Ah, make yourself at home,” I said, trying to sound as hospitable as possible.

I quickly pulled out another chair, offering it to her with an awkward smile. To my relief, she accepted it gracefully, sitting down with an elegance that seemed to contrast sharply with the surroundings.

“How have you been, darling?” she asked, her voice soft and genuinely curious.

I tilted my head, slightly taken aback by the question. It wasn’t just the words she used, but the way she said them—like she knew me, really knew me. But I couldn’t place her at all. Did she really know me, or was this just the way she spoke to everyone? To me, everyone is a stranger, a blank slate, thanks to the empty void in my memory.

“I’m okay,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m sorry, really. I think you probably know what’s wrong with me, being friends with my parents and all…”

“Dear, yes, very close,” she said with a gentle smile. “And I do quite know that you are suffering from amnesia.”

I nodded, a little relieved that she already knew about my condition. It saved me from the awkwardness of explaining why I couldn’t remember anything about her. So, she really did know me… or at least, she knew the old me, the one I couldn’t even recall.

“I’m sorry…”

I started to apologize, though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was apologizing for. For forgetting her? For not recognizing her? For the awkwardness that seemed to hang in the air?

“There is no need for apologies, darling,” she said, cutting me off with a warmth in her tone that made my heart ache a little. “Have you worked out the lost pieces of you?”

Her question hit me like a ton of bricks. I pressed my lips into a thin line, feeling a pang of shame. How could I answer that? I’d been living with this blank slate of mind for almost six years.

I was no closer to finding the missing pieces of my past than I was the day I woke up in that hospital bed. I shook my head slowly, unable to meet her eyes.

Victoria’s expression softened, and there was something almost motherly in her gaze. “I’m just very glad that you’re doing well and that you are starting anew,” she said, her voice filled with a kind of understanding that made me feel both comforted and guilty at the same time. “I must check up on your Mother and Father downstairs. Do you want to join me, Ciella?”

I realized that I had already committed enough social faux pas for one evening, so I decided to accept Victoria’s offer. The least I could do was try to be a bit more polite. “Sure, let’s see what my folks are up to,” I said, giving her a small, tentative smile.

We descended the stairs in a shared silence, the kind that felt more like a mutual understanding than anything awkward. As we walked, I noticed that Victoria was humming softly—a delicate tune that felt oddly familiar, though I couldn’t place it.

Every so often, she’d glance at me, and I caught the sadness in her eyes, a sadness that seemed to weigh her down despite the smile she maintained. It wasn’t hard to guess that it was pity—a look I’d grown used to over the years.

Pity for the girl who couldn’t remember, who was stuck living in a world where everyone was a stranger, even to herself.

When we reached the dining room, my parents were busy setting the last touches on the dinner table. The aroma of Mom’s cooking filled the air, a comforting smell that made me feel a little more grounded, despite the lingering unease from the conversation upstairs.

We all sat down to eat, and I quickly found myself retreating into silence, letting the adults talk about their business while I focused on my plate.

“How is the economic status of the country, Victoria?” Dad asked, his voice casual but with the undertone of someone who was used to discussing matters of importance.

“Oh, it is blooming as we speak,” Victoria replied, her voice carrying a subtle pride. “The amount of tourist population has grown widely over the years, and the tourism advertisements have been a huge help. The kingdom has flourished more than ever.”

The word “kingdom” stuck in my mind, like a splinter that wouldn’t dislodge. Victoria’s tone was calm, almost rehearsed, but something about the way she said it made my heart skip a beat.

I felt a faint thump in my head, like the echo of a memory trying to surface, but it was too faint, too distant. I pushed it down, focusing instead on my food, but I couldn’t help listening more closely to the conversation.

“And how about Italy?” Dad inquired, his tone shifting to one of concern.

“Oh, we’re still working on it,” Mom chimed in, her voice steady and confident. “With the dictator not really paying attention to his surroundings, we’ve easily managed to crawl into the system.”

Dictator.

Italy.

System.

The words reverberated in my mind, each one stirring something deep within me. Suddenly, an image flashed in my head—faded, indistinct, but undeniably real. A face, strong and menacing, with features I couldn’t quite make out. And then, a voice—dark, taunting, and all too familiar—echoed in my mind.

“I will bring down your Italy, poor Princess…”

The words hit me like a physical blow, and I felt a surge of panic. My hands started to shake, and I instinctively dropped my utensils. I pressed my ears with both hands, trying to block out the voice, but it only grew louder, more insistent.

His sinister laughter echoed in my head, spiraling out of control, and turning the room around me into a blur of colors and sounds. The pain in my head was unbearable, like a thousand needles piercing through my skull.

I pressed harder, desperately trying to silence the voice, but it was no use. The nausea was overwhelming, and my vision started to blur. I barely noticed Mom and Dad rushing to my side, their voices distant and frantic. Everything around me seemed to spin out of control, the throbbing in my head intensifying until it was all I could focus on.

“No, no, no…” I whispered, my voice trembling as I fought against the onslaught in my mind.

“Ciella!” Mom’s voice was filled with panic, but I couldn’t focus on it. The pain, the voice—it was all too much.

I screamed, the sound raw and primal, echoing through the dining room as the pain reached its peak. My world went white with agony, and then—nothing. The darkness swept over me like a wave, pulling me under into merciful oblivion.