Chapter 24: Behind the Door

Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Behind the Door

Azura trudged down the hallway like a zombie who had just been told there were no brains left in the buffet. Her conversation with Elder Luna had been short, explosive, and terrifying—basically a three-course meal of emotional devastation with a side of near-death experience.

She let out a long, dramatic sigh that echoed through the corridor.

"Note to self: never, under any circumstances, argue with an angry mother about her dead son. Unless you have a death wish. Which I apparently do."

She patted her chest, grateful that her organs were still inside her body and not scattered across Elder Luna’s living room floor.

"Now, focus on Selena. Damage control. Friendship rebuilding."

She finally reached the kitchen, pushing open the door with the hope of finding a certain silver-haired girl chopping vegetables or stirring a pot with her signature timid grace.

Instead, she found only Mrs. Hannah—the pack’s head cook—and two maids, all of them busy preparing ingredients for lunch like they were in a cooking competition with a gun to their heads.

Mrs. Hannah looked up.

And there it was again.

That look.

Not the amused "oh my god you and Selena are doing incest BDSM roleplay" look from yesterday. No, this was different. This was confusion mixed with pity. The exact same expression every pack member had been giving Azura all morning.

Azura’s eye twitched.

What. Is. Happening.

She wanted to ask. She really, REALLY wanted to ask. But she clenched her fists and reminded herself of her priority.

Selena first. Mystery looks later. Stay focused. You’re a reformed villainess on a redemption arc, not a detective in a murder mystery.

She approached Mrs. Hannah with her best "I’m totally not a threat" smile.

"Hi! So... is Selena not working in the kitchen right now? Where is she?"

Mrs. Hannah hesitated. Her hands stopped kneading dough. She exchanged a quick glance with one of the maids, then looked back at Azura with visible nervousness.

"Ah... Miss Azura... Selena... isn’t feeling well today, so she’s resting in her room."

She quickly added, her voice pitching higher, "Of course, that’s with the Alpha’s permission! Alpha Adrian himself said she could rest! So... please don’t punish her... Alpha Adrian also ordered that no one is allowed to disturb her..."

Azura felt a vein pulse in her forehead.

Oh, fantastic. Everyone still thinks I’m going to waterboard Selena with hot sauce the moment she’s alone.

She forced her smile to stay in place, even as her soul let out a long, defeated scream.

"Oh! Okay! Thanks for the information!"

She turned and emerged from the kitchen, her steps echoing in the hallway.

But then she stopped.

Her brain finally caught up with what Mrs. Hannah had said.

Alpha Adrian... let Selena rest?

Azura’s eyebrows furrowed.

Wait. Doesn’t Adrian HATE Selena? Like, publicly, loudly, "I-would-rather-eat-glass-than-look-at-her" hate her? Why would HE of all people give her permission to rest?

She scratched her head, adding another question to the growing pile of mysteries in her brain.

This is fine. Everything is fine. I’m just collecting questions like trading cards at this point.

Azura continued walking down the hallway like a lost GPS signal with legs. Her footsteps heavy with the weight of a woman who had been isekai’d into a body that came with a lifetime supply of drama and zero navigation skills.

She stopped mid-step and let out a groan that came straight from the depths of her soul.

"Great. Another room. Another location I don’t know. Selena’s room, which is probably in the servants’ quarters—or worse, a glorified broom closet with a mattress, because of course the tragic female lead gets the deluxe storage room experience."

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Okay. Plan C. Fake sick again. It worked twice. Third time’s the charm."

She spotted a maid crouched down near the end of the hallway, meticulously wiping a decorative vase that was probably worth more than Azura’s entire wardrobe back in her original world.

Showtime.

Azura clutched her chest dramatically, her face twisting into an expression of profound suffering—the kind of suffering that could win her an Oscar if Oscars were given for performances in front of unsuspecting maids.

"Ohhhh... my big, heavy, totally-not-just-for-dramatic-effect boobs... they hurt so much... like someone is kneading dough on my sternum... I simply cannot walk another step... especially not to Selena’s room... which I desperately need to get to right now..."

The maid shot up like a spring-loaded toy and rushed over, arms outstretched to catch the "fainting" villainess.

And then Azura saw her face.

It was Lyra.

Again.

"..."

"..."

They stared at each other. The silence stretched longer than a horror movie jump scare.

Lyra blinked. "Miss Azura... you had a stomachache thirty minutes ago. And now your bi—I mean, your chest... hurts. Should I take you to the Pack Hospital instead?"

"No need, Lyra." Azura waved a hand weakly, still committed to the bit. "I just need to get to Selena’s room. Immediately. My life depends on it."

Lyra’s face went pale. Her eyes darted around nervously.

Oh no. She knows. She definitely knows. She’s going to go torment poor Selena again!

Azura could practically see the thoughts flashing across Lyra’s face like a bad slideshow.

She wanted to scream.

Why does everyone think I’m about to commit a war crime?!

"Miss Azura, I think—"

"Shhh." Azura pressed a finger to Lyra’s lips. "Listen to me very carefully. Take me to Selena’s room right now. ASAP. My life. Depends. On it."

Lyra’s eyes went wide."O-Okay, Miss!"

And then—without warning—Lyra grabbed Azura by the arm.

And pulled.

Azura’s feet left the ground.

"WAIT—"

The world became a blur of walls, doors, and ceiling lights. Lyra, who looked like she couldn’t lift a sack of flour, was apparently hiding the strength of a small freight train. Azura felt like a flag being dragged behind a speeding car.

Minutes later—or maybe seconds, time had lost all meaning—they skidded to a halt at the most corner of the manor. The most corner. The kind of corner that made you wonder if the architect just gave up halfway through.

Azura stood there, dazed, her hair a mess, her soul temporarily absent from her body.

"Miss Azura... we’re here..." Lyra said hesitantly, pointing to a door that looked like it had been added as an afterthought.

Azura blinked slowly.

"I think I left my stomach three hallways back."

Lyra’s eyes darted down to Azura’s midsection, then back up to her face with the earnest confusion of a golden retriever who’d just been told the sky was green.

"Your stomach’s still here, miss! I can see it!" she announced, pointing at Azura’s belly like she’d just solved a complex math problem.

Azura stared at her in silence.

Then Lyra’s gaze shifted to Selena’s door. Her expression darkened with genuine concern—the kind of concern usually reserved for someone about to step on a landmine.

"Miss... Selena’s sick, so please don’t do anything to her." She paused, then added with desperate emphasis, "Even Alpha Adrian said not to disturb her rest. ALPHA ADRIAN. So you KNOW it’s serious."

Azura felt a tear threaten to escape her eye. Not from sadness. From sheer, overwhelming exhaustion.

Does no one believe my redemption arc?!

She forced a smile and waved her hand like she was shooing away a persistent mosquito.

"Thanks for bringing me here. You can go back to your cleaning duties now, Lyra. I promise I won’t commit any felonies."

Lyra nodded slowly. Then she turned to leave.

But she kept looking back.

Every three steps.

A glance over the shoulder.

Another glance.

And another.

By the time she reached the end of the hallway, she was practically walking backwards, her eyes locked on Azura like she was monitoring a ticking bomb.

Azura waited until Lyra finally disappeared around the corner, then let out a long, defeated breath.

She turned her attention to Selena’s door.

It was exactly as she’d feared. Tucked away in the most forgotten corner of the manor, the door looked like it had been salvaged from a condemned building and given a fresh coat of "we don’t care about this one" beige paint. The hinges were slightly rusted. The handle was worn.

If Cinderella had a stepsister who got the storage closet, this would be her room.

Azura sighed, raised her hand, and knocked.

Knock knock knock.

"Selena, it’s me, Azura." She softened her voice, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. "Can we talk? I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I came to check on you."

Silence.

Then—

THUD

Something heavy hit the floor inside.

Followed by a frantic whisper that Azura could hear clearly through the thin wood.

"Oh no oh no oh no... she knows... SHE KNOWS... she’s come to kill me..."

Azura’s hand froze mid-air.

She pressed her ear against the door, her brain struggling to process what she’d just heard.

"...What."

She pulled back and stared at the door with the bewildered expression of someone who’d just been told that 2+2 equals fish.

What the hell is going on in there?! Is there a secret cult hiding behind that door?! Is Selena hiding a body?! Or is this something Jonathan was being cryptic about at breakfast?!