The Divinity's Curse

Abiral tried to do meditation and think hard about wanting it—but nothing worked.

So, he gave up.

'If it's anything like the things he remembered Wangyue telling him about psychology—he'd need a 'trigger.' Something that would force him to remember.'

His body was smaller than he had initially expected, all his bones peered out from the skin, and he could grasp onto his ribcage if he wanted.

A horrible smell reeked through his pores, filth clogged under his nail buds and he had bed sores that caused him great pain.

The terrible cough still pestered him, and he still felt weak even after Ludus had helped him regain strength.

It must've meant it was a two-way effort.

Abiral wiped off the bits of vomit from his lips with one of the ends of the blanket. He got up once more and stumbled towards the dresser.

Rummaging through the drawers until he found something sharp, 'I'm cutting off this damn forsaken hair!'

It was impulsive but he ached at the thought of cleaning and brushing it rigorously nearly every day.

Just when the knife reached the hair, his hands spasm at the abrupt feeling. Abiral looked at the mirror in front of him he had Ludus's eyes for a split second.

Then he heard her voice.

"Don't you dare."

Startled Abiral flinched at hearing Ludus's voice again.

After he caught his breath, he tightened his grip on the lowered blade, "Dammit."

Strangely, he was more obedient to Ludus than he expected.

Before he could say anything else, the doors to his room bashed open.

A group of maids all stood in horrified silence, all with their breath held in. As they caught the eye of Abiral with the blade in hand-

He flipped his hair with his head, holding out his empty hand to them, "It's not what you-"

They all exclaimed in the same high-pitched voice and teary eyes like clones, "Sir!"

The women rushed to crowd around him at once. One of the maids quickly snatched away his blade before following the rest that had already started to grovel on the floor holding on to his ankles.

"Don't kill yourself!"

'What the-' He tried kicking them off but could manage to lightly nudge them with his skinny body.

A few of them began hysterically crying, while the others pretended they were deeply affected by it indifferently with a blank stare, off into space.

Abiral felt angered by the weird behavior of the maids, 'Why are they acting like they care now?'

He tried looking at the faces to see if any matched the maid he saw with Ludus.

But none of the faces did.

Abiral did take notice of how most of the maids were muscular. Maids with broad shoulders, rough and calloused hands, and their legs looked like powerhouses.

'What are they preparing for?' He wondered if they sent women to fight in the wars in this era.

He also noticed the different pins the women wore.

Some had green clovers pinned to their chest pockets, others had on a simple blue flower shape and only one had on a weird white design. The majority had on the green clover one.

Abiral straightened his back and looked down at them, "I was admiring the craftsmanship of the blade, I wouldn't dare draw my blood," he didn't feel like a professional acting as one of their experts anymore.

But like a stranger trying to play a part with fancy words.

The maids exchanged a few looks amongst themselves before standing up in unison. He had succeeded in reassuring them that he wasn't a suicidal teenager or had some screws loose.

Could they blame him if he was?

It was surprising that he wasn't sleeping in his feces. The woman took out things from the drawers and some went to the closet to pick out an attire.

Three of them began working their way through his hair, straightening out the twisted parts and untangling the knots in his hair.

The last few began taking the dirty sheets and quilts to bring in new ones.

Abiral accidentally blurted out his thoughts, "Why are you pretending?"

His voice was softer than he wanted it to be, his vocal cords felt rough and his throat was dry. The boy must've barely spoken or raised his voice. Abiral contemplated if this was better than having to lead a life full of abuse.

Only two maids looked at him and gave him an answer the others feigned being hard of hearing.

One of them had a smaller appearance than the other one. She had green eyes and medium-length blonde hair, "Pretending?" She carefully pronounced her words, "The physician consultant said you wouldn't make it the last few weeks."

He could understand the impression being implied—the maid was forcing herself to sound sad.

Abiral's eyebrows drooped, 'Did he also tell you to start treating me like shit and acting like I wasn't a breathing human too?'

He suspected the people who resided here were more heartless despite what meets the eye. Something that was instilled in the people here.

How easy they were to act uncaring to loving.

The other maid put her hand on the blonde one's shoulder, "But we never lost hope!"

He looked the woman dead in the eye as if she herself knew she was spewing bullshit.

She must've added that last part to soften the blow and make him feel better. To feel better about being neglected for divinely knows how long.

Yet it did the opposite for him.

'Maybe a foolish child would've believed that.'

The woman's hands worked like magic; from the mirror, it was like his hair never faced a bad day.

The burly woman he saw from earlier welcomed herself with a bright smile, "Good work ladies!" Before he could react, she picked him up from the seat he was in and threw Abiral over her shoulder.

With a gasp from Abiral, the woman took a few strides out of the room.

The maids who picked out his clothes from the closet followed behind the woman in an orderly manner. The rest watched his head bob up and down from the woman's back with a straight face.

He couldn't keep his head raised a moment more so Abiral allowed his body to become a rag doll. The woman kept walking with Abiral hoisted on her shoulder for a while until he could hear a heavy door being opened by her.

Then she slowly set him down on his feet.

In front of him were two women, this time they weren't as muscular as the ones he saw from before. They looked like people who come to your room to sing you to sleep.

They both had their sleeves rolled up and instead of dresses, they wore pants meant to be worn underneath dresses.

The women didn't share the same basic uniform as the other maids Abiral encountered. Their hair was harshly tied back in buns.

And they were both kneeling over a-

"Bucket?"

They looked at him confused at his question, 'Was this something normal?'

Before Abiral knew it he was in a bath filled with soothing hot water as the women began to scrub his back and scraped the dirt off his skin with a damp rag.

After the dirt started to come off, one tended to his hair, using a comb to brush through it and occasionally dipping it in the water to get cleaned.

Then they both massaged at his scalp and kneaded through his shoulders.

He almost fell asleep in the cramped tub, Abiral's tension had melted into another's hands. And he finally felt relaxed and at ease.

He let out a deep breath, as they finished his makeover by adding fragrances from flowers and freshening up his long hair.

'Why be caught up in it all, I should enjoy my new life,' the woman pulled back on Abiral's face and began massaging his cheekbones, forehead, and eyebrows.

In his fantasy, he pictured his new life—since he got here he didn't think about the good things that awaited him. He only focused on the spite but here he got a new perspective.

When they finished, the duo quietly got up and nodded their heads at him.

Beside him on the tabletop were his clothes neatly laid out for him. Abiral took his time getting up, having a thought come to mind. A ribbon was placed on the side of his folded pants.

'How would I worship Ludus?'

He's never had a [Divinity] before and his mother only lit candles for hers. But there was a chance it was different for everyone.

Abiral scolded himself for not paying attention to that one informative class he had in middle school.

Once he was dressed in black felted pants and a loose white shirt. It was similar to the ones in the historic times.

Abiral couldn't help but repeat the thought that he was somewhere in the past.

His garments were the evidence of that. It revealed his collar bones but the sleeves became too big for him and came together to ruffle at his wrists.

The room felt quite big and disturbingly quiet.

Abiral tried to call out to Ludus to calm his worries, "Ludus...?"

"..."

He clenched his hands together at his chest, his hair swayed at the back of his knees, 'Does she just go and come whenever she pleases?'

It felt more ominous to him when he realized he was alone.

Pacing around the room, Abiral looked at the window that was covered with a dark curtain while the other ones were vibrantly opened for the public to see.

Abiral always felt unease in silent places that he wasn't familiar with. The strangeness he felt in this room didn't help with that either.

Eventually, he decided to roam the halls but unbeknownst to Abiral when he went to open the door someone had been awaiting him on the other side.