"Ugh… I wish we could dress her in a proper gown for once instead of these ceremonial outfits!"
"Master only cares about appearances."
“Oracle. Oracle.”
As their voices approached, I fluttered my eyelids slightly, giving the illusion of someone waking up slowly.
I let my face appear dazed, unfocused, and vulnerable. I shifted my gaze out of alignment before gradually bringing it into focus.
Flawless.
I silently vowed to help these two maids—and the other three maids as well, if possible. Maybe even the chef and any other staff with a conscience.
Isaac Garcia Berlios.
The name of the one who will rescue me—or rather, the one I’ll make rescue me.
I don’t care if he’s handsome anymore. If he’s the Sky General and as strong as he sounds, that’s all that matters.
Please, save me—the self-proclaimed “reasonably pretty” captive.
* * *
I woke up, let the maids dress me, ate breakfast, read, performed the ritual, and leaned against the tree in the garden.
“Isaac Garcia Berlios, please save me.”
As part of my now-daily routine, I waved my hand as if sending my “blessing”—or rather, curse—far away.
It had been a week since I overheard the maids’ conversation. I wasn’t sure if “seven days” counted as a week in this world, but regardless, it had been seven days.
Twice a day—during my naps when no one was around and before bed—I made sure to bless the Sky General in a barely audible whisper.
Whether my blessings were reaching him or not, I had no way of knowing. But at this point, I could only keep trying, as ridiculous as it seemed.
“Isaac, if you save me, I’ll make sure you meet the girl of your dreams. So please, absolutely come to rescue me.”
Since this was supposedly a divine blessing, it should work. If he already had a wife and kids, well, my apologies.
I’ve never prayed so seriously in my life, not even for something so absurdly frivolous. Strangely, silver light swirled around again.
So, it worked even without using his full name. Then what was the point of all the chanting I did for those old men’s full names during past rituals?
I decided it didn’t matter and pushed the light upward with both hands.
Reach him, my curse.
“Isaac, Isaac Garcia Berlios,” I murmured softly, almost like a sigh.
The sound of it—almost like a lover calling out—made me cringe.
Honestly, at this point, even if the Sky General turned out to be ugly, short, overweight, bald, or reeked of body odor, I was confident I’d fall for him—as long as he came to save me.
I pressed my head against the large tree trunk as if hugging it. I had never been particularly fond of nature’s smells, but for some reason, they calmed me.
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