When Caesar Met Cinderella

Chapter 8：A Temporary Refuge

The dryness in Hadrian’s throat woke him from a fitful slumber. The strange, soft bed seemed to amplify the dryness, making his tongue feel like coarse sand. He blinked in the absolute darkness, momentarily disoriented. Where was he? Not his villa at Tibur, certainly. Not even the more austere military camps he had frequented during his campaigns. This room was small, the air still and faintly smelling of… lavender? A most un-Roman scent.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet landing on a smooth, cold surface that he vaguely recalled Emily calling a “wooden floor.” He needed water. In his time, a servant would have been summoned with a simple clap of his hands, bringing forth cool, refreshing water in a silver goblet. Here, in this silent, alien dwelling, he was on his own.

He fumbled in the darkness, his hands brushing against unfamiliar objects – a small, cylindrical lamp on a table, a stack of soft rectangles Emily had called “books.” He finally located the door and cautiously opened it, peering into the inky blackness of the hallway.

A faint sound of dripping water reached his ears, a rhythmic plink… plink… plink. It seemed to be coming from a room further down the corridor. With a renewed sense of purpose, Hadrian followed the sound, his bare feet silent on the carpet.

He reached a small, brightly lit room. The source of the dripping was immediately apparent: a large, white basin with a constant trickle of water flowing into it. It was lower than the washbasins he was accustomed to, and its design was… peculiar. But water was water, and his thirst was paramount.

Without hesitation, Hadrian leaned down and cupped his hands, scooping up the clear liquid and bringing it to his lips. The taste was… odd. Clean, certainly, but with a faint, almost metallic tang. It wasn’t the fresh spring water he craved, but it would have to do. He drank deeply, the cool liquid easing the dryness in his throat.

As he straightened up, his gaze fell upon a large, rectangular object hanging on the wall opposite the basin. It was dark and still, but something about its smooth, reflective surface caught his eye. He moved closer, his curiosity piqued.

As he approached, a figure began to materialize within the dark surface. It was… him. But distorted, pale, and somehow… wrong. Hadrian recoiled, his heart leaping into his throat. Was this some sort of malevolent spirit? A larva sent to torment him in this strange afterlife?

He peered closer, his fear warring with a growing sense of… familiarity. The figure mimicked his movements, its head tilting as he tilted his own. It had his nose, his lips, the lines etched around his eyes. But the skin was too smooth, the hair too dark. And those strange garments…

Then, with a sudden jolt of recognition, it dawned on him. This was a reflection. A remarkably clear and accurate reflection, unlike the distorted images he was used to seeing in polished metal or still water. He reached out a hand, his fingers touching the cool, smooth surface, and the figure within did the same.

He stared at his reflection, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over him. He looked tired, older than he remembered feeling. The past few days, the sheer shock of his arrival in this future, had clearly taken their toll.

As he continued to examine his reflection, a sudden movement in the corner of the room caught his eye. He turned his head sharply, his senses on high alert once more.

Nothing. Just shadows. He turned back to the mirror, and then it happened. A soft, ethereal glow began to emanate from the ceiling above him. It started subtly, a faint luminescence that gradually intensified, bathing the entire room in a soft, white light.

Hadrian froze, his eyes wide with terror. This was it. The demons of this strange land had finally come for him. He had heard tales of spirits and apparitions, but to witness such a manifestation with his own eyes…

“Di immortales!” he cried out, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. “What sorcery is this? What manner of demonic entity reveals itself in this unholy place?”

He backed away slowly, his hands raised defensively, as if to ward off the spectral glow. The light remained steady, illuminating the room with an unnerving stillness. He looked around frantically, searching for an escape, for any sign of the malevolent force he believed was now in his presence.

Just then, a sleepy voice called out from the hallway. “Hadrian? What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Emily appeared in the doorway, her eyes still half-closed, her hair a tangled mess. She blinked in the bright light, then looked at Hadrian, who was standing frozen in the middle of the bathroom, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of utter horror.

“What’s with the shouting? And why is the bathroom light on?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

Hadrian slowly lowered his gaze from the ceiling to Emily, his face pale with fright. “Demons, woman! I tell you, demons! They reveal themselves with unholy light in this chamber of… of reflective spirits!” He gestured wildly towards the mirror and then upwards at the light fixture.

Emily stared at him, then followed his gaze to the motion-sensor light on the ceiling. A slow dawning of understanding – and amusement – spread across her face.

“Oh,” she said, stifling a giggle. “That’s not a demon, Hadrian. That’s just a light. It comes on when it senses movement.” She took a step into the bathroom, and the light flickered slightly. “See? It’s motion-activated.”

Hadrian watched the light with a wary suspicion. “Motion-activated?” he repeated, the words sounding nonsensical. “It responds to… movement?”

“Yeah,” Emily said, suppressing another laugh. “You probably just walked past it in the dark, and it turned on.”

Hadrian looked around the bathroom again, his gaze lingering on the mirror and then back up at the innocuous light fixture. The terror in his eyes slowly began to recede, replaced by a look of profound confusion.

“So… it is not a malevolent entity?” he asked, his voice still tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

“Definitely not,” Emily assured him. “Just a bit of modern convenience.” She then noticed the wetness around his mouth and the slight dampness on his t-shirt. “Wait a minute… did you… were you drinking out of the toilet?”

Hadrian’s eyes widened in dawning horror. He remembered the taste, the metallic tang… “That… that was not a source of fresh water?”

Emily winced. “No, Hadrian. That’s… well, it’s not meant for drinking.” She sighed. This was going to be a longer day than she thought.

Later that morning, after a slightly awkward explanation of modern plumbing and a hearty breakfast of toast and jam (which Hadrian surprisingly enjoyed), Emily sat down with him in the living room.

“Look, Hadrian,” she began, feeling a surge of responsibility mixed with a growing sense of the sheer impracticality of keeping him in her father’s small flat. “This isn’t really working. My dad… he’s not always with it, and this place is tiny. And the neighbours are starting to look at us funny.”

Hadrian nodded slowly, his expression surprisingly understanding. “I have been… a considerable inconvenience.”

“It’s not that,” Emily said quickly. “It’s just… you need more space, and somewhere a bit more private, where you can… adjust.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “I have a small apartment. It’s in the suburbs, a bit outside the city. It’s not much, but it’s bigger than this, and it’s just me there. How would you feel about coming back with me? Just for a little while, until we figure things out.”

Hadrian looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers. There was a flicker of hope in his gaze, mixed with a hint of his inherent regal caution.

“Your… apartment?” he asked. “You would offer shelter to a stranger?”

“Well,” Emily said, a wry smile touching her lips, “you’re a rather unusual stranger. And my dad seems to think you’re a king. Besides,” she added, a touch of genuine sympathy in her voice, “you looked pretty freaked out by the bathroom light last night. Maybe a change of scenery would do us both good.”

Hadrian considered her offer for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful. Then, he inclined his head slightly, a gesture that still managed to convey a sense of imperial acceptance.

“Very well, Emilia,” he said, a hint of his former authority returning to his voice. “I accept your generous offer of… temporary refuge. Perhaps in your suburban dwelling, this ‘motion-activated’ demon will not dare to tread.”

Emily couldn’t help but laugh. “I think we can guarantee that, Hadrian.” She stood up. “Okay, let’s pack up your… things. We’ll head out after lunch.”

As Emily started gathering the few items of clothing she’d lent him, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was embarking on a truly bizarre adventure. Taking a displaced Roman Emperor back to her suburban apartment? It was the kind of thing that sounded utterly insane when she thought about it too hard. But looking at Hadrian, still slightly bewildered but with a glimmer of trust in his eyes, she knew it was the right thing to do. For now, at least, her small apartment in the London suburbs would become a temporary haven for a ghost from the past, a refuge from the bewildering chaos of the 21st century. And who knew what wonders – or terrors – that new chapter might hold?