Chapter 34: Prologue Vol 1 – A Hug, Not a Hit

【Siegfried PoV】

I never relax.

Not in a hall, classroom, or broom closet.

Somewhere in the past twenty-seven lives Elizabeth threw a chair at me.

In three other timelines Lilith used the same chair.

My back still remembers the splinters.

So when Head Maid Margot ordered me to the “linen wing” to meet the new helper, I heard, “assassination attempt.”

I packed for war.

Hidden dagger up my sleeve.

Smoke marble in my boot.

A vial of anti-love perfume in my coat.

Better paranoid than skewered.

The corridor smelled of soap and straw.

No wild laughter echoed behind the curtains.

Promising.

I eased open the storeroom door and peered inside.

A girl in a plain gray dress hummed while folding sheets.

Her brown braid swung like a metronome.

Two full seconds passed without an ambush.

Weird.

I stepped through the doorway and shut it with my heel.

“Hi.”

“You must be Siegfried, right?”

Her smile looked tired but genuine, like laundry had already beaten her once today.

I scanned the floor for runes.

Nothing.

“No hidden spike pits?” I asked.

“Only on Thursdays.”

Sarcasm.

Refreshing.

“I’m Sophia—part-time maid, full-time sheet wrangler.”

She lifted one corner of a bedspread.

“Grab the other side?”

I obliged, still mapping exits in my head.

We folded in silence.

My muscle memory waited for a surprise slash.

Nothing came.

Sophia chatted about cafeteria bread and squeaky windows.

I replied with one-word grunts.

She laughed at my economy of speech.

“Do you always look like a hunted rabbit?”

“Experience.”

“Terrible ex?”

“Two. Both armed.”

“Aren’t exes usually armed with guilt trips, not axes?”

I shrugged.

“Axes are more efficient.”

We finished the stack and set it aside.

Sophia cracked her knuckles.

“Soap-flake crate needs hauling to the girls’ storeroom.”

“Heavy?” I asked.

“Only emotionally.”

We heaved the box together and crab-walked down the hall.

The weight was manageable, but I welcomed any excuse to stand beside someone who wasn’t trying to kill me.

“So…”

“Any hobbies besides flinching?”

“Counting exits.”

“Thrilling.”

“Needles everywhere.”

“Knitting?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Deadly hobby.”

“Point taken.”

We reached the girls’ dorm.

Pastel walls.

Curtains that probably cost more than my armor.

Nightmare territory.

I braced for impact.

Sophia nudged open the storage door with her hip.

“Closet’s in the back.”

We shuffled inside, set the crate down, and exhaled in unison.

She wiped sweat from her forehead.

“Thanks, hero.”

“I’m retired.”

“Heroes don’t retire—they just switch stories.”

I frowned.

“Trying hard to switch to someone else’s.”

She leaned against the shelf, studying my face.

“What happened to you?”

“Long story.”

She nodded like she could see the ghosts anyway.

“Pretend I just prescribed you a remedy.”

“Hold still.”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.

Warm.

Gentle.

No daggers.

My brain performed a hard reset.

She stepped back after two heartbeats.

“Free sample hug. Side effects: reduced paranoia.”

I searched her expression for trickery.

Only kindness and a lopsided grin.

“Thank you.”

“Still breathing?”

“Mostly.”

“Progress.”

She fished a small cloth pouch from the crate and pressed it into my hand.

“Lavender. Tuck it under your pillow—less screaming at midnight.”

I stared at the pouch like it was a holy relic.

She strolled to the doorway.

“Kitchen closes soon. If we sprint, we might beat the bread stampede.”

“Lead on.”

We reached the corridor junction where boys and girls must part ways.

A sign warned: Curfew violators will polish three hundred stair rails.

Sophia leaned against the lintel.

“Tomorrow.”

“Potion-bottle crate, same time?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

A high five sealed the pact.

She pivoted toward the staircase, braid swinging like a victory banner.

I watched until she disappeared from sight.

No ambush followed.

No jealous shriek.

Just quiet stone and the faint scent of lavender in my clenched fist.

Maybe—just maybe—this timeline has room for ordinary girls and ordinary hugs.

I turned toward the dining hall, shoulders lighter than they’d been in years.