Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

I must’ve slept for a long time.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes wasn’t the cracked ceiling of my tiny apartment... nor Carl, my half-dead cactus and only real roommate.

Well—former roommate, I guess.

Because this wasn’t home.

I was lying in a bed way too soft to be mine, inside a room way too spacious to fit inside my crummy apartment. A desk sat neatly by the window. The wooden floor was polished. Sunlight filtered through clean glass panes and painted the walls with golden streaks.

And the sheets?

Way too clean.

Way too expensive.

I slowly sat up, the fabric brushing against my skin like silk.

"...So everything I remember really happened, huh?"

Yeah. That was... a problem.