Surviving as a Maid in a Horror Game

"Alright, let’s finally get some proper sleep!"

I couldn’t contain the excitement and anticipation that filled my chest. I swear, not even my first love made my heart race this much.

Reverently, as if placing an offering on an altar, I set the pillow on the bed and slowly leaned in. The invisible hand that had shoved me off the bed for lacking a pillow was mercifully absent this time. Finally, I collapsed onto the bed.

“I’m lying on a bed…!”

Tears welled up in my eyes from the sheer joy of the moment. But before I could bask in the comfort, the familiar white text appeared, dancing mockingly in front of my eyes.

“You have committed an evil act.”

“Your title has been changed to ‘Heartless and Inconsiderate Worker.’”

Of course, it wanted to scold me for stealing someone else’s pillow, calling me heartless and devoid of conscience.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Who’s calling who heartless? You’re the one who wouldn’t let me sleep on the bed just because I didn’t have a pillow. Who’s the real villain here?”

“Your conscience has completely disappeared.”

“Fine, fine. Go ahead and insult me all night. I don’t care as long as I can finally sleep.”

What’s the big deal about losing a bit of conscience? It’s not like anyone’s going to arrest me for it.

Gripping the edge of the pillow tightly, I turned over with a satisfied huff. The white text stubbornly lingered in front of my face, but I just smirked and shut my eyes tight. It was ridiculous how fulfilled I felt just from lying on a proper pillow. I buried my face in it, rubbing my cheeks against its softness, savoring every moment before drifting off to sleep.

For the first time since I got trapped in this game, I woke up feeling refreshed. The sunlight streaming in through the window seemed impossibly bright, the birds chirped cheerfully, and the world felt beautiful. Not even my meager six gold coins or the system’s nagging about morality could ruin this morning’s bliss.

“Hilda, you look happy today.”

“Emily! Good morning! Did you sleep well?”

For the first time since entering the game, I greeted Emily cheerfully in the morning. She wrinkled her nose slightly, smiling in an adorably amused way.

“Yeah. Seeing you smile this early makes me feel good too.”

“Well, I finally had a proper night’s sleep for the first time in forever. That’s probably why.”

My circumstances hadn’t improved—if anything, they’d worsened—but I still felt invigorated. I realized that my life in this game could be divided into two distinct periods: before and after obtaining the pillow.

Emily smiled warmly and walked with me as we left the dormitory. As she deftly braided her hair while descending the stairs, I couldn’t help but notice how even her plain gray uniform seemed to suit her perfectly. Despite her simple attire, Emily’s natural charm shone brightly.

“Well, Hilda, do your best today!”

“You too…”

Stay safe. Especially around Adrian. That guy’s actually a demon. All he thinks about is killing people. I’ve barely survived him multiple times.

“…See you at lunch.”

I swallowed the words threatening to spill out and waved instead. Emily’s clear laughter echoed behind me.

“What was that? You looked like you had something to say, but now you’re acting all shy. Don’t push yourself too hard this morning—I’ll come help you later!”

Emily was genuinely kind. In this entire game, she was the only one who cared for me. Even though I knew she was just a programmed NPC, I found myself hoping that her life wouldn’t end in suffering. Good people deserve happy endings, don’t they?

Watching her disappear toward the mansion, I turned my gaze to the garden. Yesterday, it had felt like the devil’s playground, but now it looked like a treasure chest filled with experience points. Even if each weed only granted a single experience point, they’d add up over time. With enough effort, I’d level up and eventually become the last survivor of this world.

“You have removed a weed. Gained 1 experience point.”

“You have removed a weed. Gained 1 experience point.”

“Low fatigue level: Work efficiency has increased.”

“Low fatigue level: Significant work efficiency boost.”

“Increased chance of successful weed removal.”

“Increased wages.”

“Experience gain has significantly increased.”

“You have removed a weed. Gained 5 experience points.”

Five experience points for one weed? Compared to yesterday’s meager one point, this was a windfall. Apparently, my condition directly influenced my rewards. This realization gave me yet another reason to guard my pillow with my life.

Could it be that the most crucial item for conquering this game wasn’t some legendary weapon, but a pillow? I resolved to buy a few spares just in case my current one broke again.

“You have removed a weed. Gained 5 experience points.”

“You have removed a weed. Gained 5 experience points.”

“Critical hit! You have removed a weed. Gained 10 experience points.”

As I mechanically plucked weeds, lost in thought, the white text continued to stream across my vision. A critical hit? Was this a rhythm game now? Despite myself, I found it oddly satisfying and kept working with renewed vigor.

“You have removed a weed. Gained 5 experience points.”

“Critical hit! You have removed a weed. Gained 10 experience points.”

“Critical hit! You have removed a weed. Gained 10 experience points.”

This is actually fun. Watching my experience bar fill up visibly faster than before gave me an inexplicable sense of accomplishment. How did the game know I loved RPGs enough to include this system? My efforts were clearly paying off—the garden looked pristine, almost like a brand-new creation.

Emily’s reaction when she came to find me around noon proved I wasn’t just imagining things.

“Wow, Hilda… Did you really do all this? It’s perfect.”

“Perfect? You’re exaggerating,” I replied, feeling slightly bashful.

"Yesterday, you left it in complete chaos, but today it's spotless? Did Lady Ancia secretly come to help? No, no, she’s too busy planting new flowers in the Madam’s garden. This is really unbelievable—Leticia will be so shocked she might faint."

“It’s not that impressive…” I muttered, though my lips curled into a sheepish smile.

“Hilda, I’m so proud of you,” Emily said, her eyes shining with pure admiration, even brimming with tears.

To think that pulling weeds could make someone’s eyes water with pride—I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. But there it was, the truth of the old saying: praise really does make even a whale dance. Feeling motivated, I grabbed the last weed, pulling it out with a triumphant critical hit notification. Emily gasped in amazement, as if I’d just performed a miracle.

Afterward, we walked to the dining hall together, chatting about the morning’s events. Our conversation was interrupted by a loud crashing noise that echoed from the kitchen. It sounded like dozens of plates shattering at once.

“Let’s go check it out,” Emily said, already dashing ahead. I quickened my pace to follow her.

As we approached, Leticia’s sharp, scolding voice carried through the slightly open kitchen window.

“Delores! What have you been doing all morning?! Look at this mess! Do you have any idea how many plates you’ve broken? This is unacceptable!”

“I-I’m sorry, Leticia…” Delores stammered.

“I’ve ignored you dozing off more times than I can count, but now you’ve gone and done this!” Leticia barked, her hands on her hips, her face red with frustration.

I crouched down beside Emily, who was already helping to clean up the shattered plates. Delores, the maid who had once dragged me into a tedious task behind the mansion, was fidgeting nervously, looking like she wanted to disappear. Her voice wavered as she spoke.

“I couldn’t sleep last night because… because my pillow… it’s gone…”

Ah. So Delores was the owner of that pillow. And the one sneaking out for secret trysts at night.

As I continued cleaning, critical hits popped up on my screen as if mocking the situation. Emily, completely unaware, shot me a look of admiration for my efficient work. If nothing else, this game was proving to be oddly satisfying in unexpected ways.

“What do you mean, gone?” Leticia snapped. “How can a pillow just disappear? What did you do with it?”

“I don’t know! I left my room for a moment, and when I came back, it was gone. I couldn’t sleep at all…”

Apparently, the fatigue system in this game applied to NPCs as well. Whoever designed this game must have had a personal vendetta against pillows. How else could one justify so much misery over a single missing item?

Leticia sighed deeply, shaking her head. “This is ridiculous. Stop blaming others for your carelessness.”

“Please, Leticia! Someone must have stolen it on purpose to mess with me. Help me find the thief!”

“Enough! You should be cleaning up these plates instead of making baseless accusations!” Leticia turned on her heel, clearly done with the conversation.

Delores looked ready to explode, her face contorted in frustration and humiliation. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but then her gaze locked onto me. Her expression twisted into fury.

“It was you, wasn’t it?!”

Her accusing finger pointed at me, her voice trembling with rage. My heart skipped a beat. How could she know?

“What are you talking about, Delores?” Emily interrupted, stepping between us. “You can’t just accuse someone without any proof! Hilda would never do something like that.”

Actually, Emily, I did. Sorry.

Delores clenched her fists, her teeth grinding audibly. “Just you wait,” she hissed before storming out of the kitchen.

“Don’t mind her, Hilda. She’s just lashing out because she feels guilty,” Emily said, patting my shoulder reassuringly.

“Guilty? About what?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“She used to take your pillow and hide it all the time, remember?”

“What?! She did?”

“Hilda… you were so mad about it before. How could you forget?”

“Oh, I remember now,” I said, forcing a smile. “I must have buried my anger so deep I forgot.”

“Well, don’t worry about it. It’s karma, isn’t it?” Emily said, laughing softly as she finished sweeping up the remaining pieces of porcelain.

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Delores’s glare from earlier still lingered in my mind. I didn’t need more enemies in this already challenging game.

What should I do about this?

“Hilda, let’s eat,” Emily said, interrupting my thoughts.

Right. Food first, strategy later.

The midday meal passed without incident, though my nerves didn’t let me enjoy it fully. Just as I thought I could finally relax, a request fell into my lap.

“Hilda, I’m sorry to bother you while you’re eating, but could you bring tea to the Madam? She’s been so busy today, and we’re short-handed.”

I frowned slightly, reluctant to take on more work. But Emily immediately stepped in, assembling the tray with practiced ease.

“Of course Hilda will help. She’s amazing. I’d be too scared to go to the Madam’s room,” Emily said, smiling as she handed me the tray.

“Why would you be scared? The Madam’s not a demon.”

Emily shuddered slightly, muttering something about the atmosphere. I didn’t push further, though her reaction left me uneasy.

Carrying the tray carefully, I made my way to the second floor, replaying Emily’s words in my mind. The Madam was human, not like Adrian. What could be so frightening about her?

I knocked on the door softly. “Madam, I’ve brought your tea.”

No response.

Recalling Emily’s instructions, I hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open. As I stepped inside, the air grew heavy, and a metallic stench assaulted my nose.

Oh no…

The room was bathed in a sickly red glow. The walls were smeared with a crimson substance, dripping in uneven streaks. The sharp, coppery smell of old blood mixed with decay overwhelmed me. My eyes widened in horror as I spotted the source: the mutilated torso of a goat, its body pinned to the wall like some grotesque decoration.

Clutching the tray tightly, I forced my gaze away from the wall. At the far end of the room, near a large window, the Madam sat in a rocking chair, humming a lullaby. She cradled something wrapped in a blood-stained blanket.

“Rock-a-bye… baby… on the treetop…”

Her soft voice combined with the creaking of the chair sent chills down my spine. My hands trembled, the tea cups rattling on the tray.

Calm down. It’s just a little madness. Deliver the tea and get out.

With shaking hands, I poured the tea into the cup. The fragrant steam rose, mixing unpleasantly with the putrid air. My heart pounded as the Madam continued her eerie lullaby, oblivious to my presence.

The Countess watched me silently as I poured the tea, my hands trembling so much I was certain I’d spill it. In horror movies, characters who stay eerily quiet like this usually jump out with a loud bam! when you least expect it.

…Just imagining it made me more terrified. I had to finish quickly and leave.

“P-please, enjoy, Madam,” I stammered.

“…”

“I’ll leave the tea here on the table. I’ll wait until you’ve finished, so p-please take your t-time…”

I tried to place the teacup on the table with as little shaking as possible, but that’s when I caught sight of what the Countess was cradling. It was the severed, decayed head of a goat, swarming with flies.

Why in the world are you holding that?!

“Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye… my sweet baby…” she murmured, completely ignoring the tea I’d set down. Her pitch-black eyes locked onto me, unblinking. Ten seconds felt like ten years. Was time even moving at this point? How could I possibly stay here until she finished her tea?

Just kill me already.

“Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye…”

“M-Madam, is there anything you’d like me to do?” I asked, barely suppressing a scream. What I really meant was, Please stop staring at me if you have nothing for me to do. But, of course, she didn’t respond. I laughed nervously and backed away, though her gaze followed me persistently. It was unbearable. Compared to this, Adrian was practically pleasant.

As my fear peaked, resentment crept in. Why did Leticia send me here of all people? Sure, Hilda was a naturally hard worker, but courage wasn’t exactly part of the package. And Emily! She claimed she was too scared to go, but she had no problem shoving me into this nightmare. I even made her coffee earlier—how could she repay me like this?

“…”

Wait. Was the Countess even looking at me? …Could it be?

I stopped and glanced at the tray. The coffee I’d made earlier was sitting there, untouched but in her line of sight. Her gaze wasn’t fixed on my face but rather my chest area—right where the coffee was.

“Madam, do you… like coffee? I made this myself. Would you like to try it?” I ventured.

“…”

“Um, let me pour you some. It might not suit your taste, but please give it a try.”

Carefully, I poured the coffee and topped it with the frothy milk I’d made earlier. The Countess raised her hands, taking the cup slowly. Then, to my surprise, she sipped it almost immediately.

So, she had wanted coffee all along? She could have just said so instead of staring at me like a ghost! I thought she was going to pounce on me!

“You have gifted Priscilla a ‘Rarely Made Coffee.’”

“Priscilla is greatly pleased.”

“Priscilla’s favorability has increased by 300.”

“Priscilla Favorability: Level 4 (0/200).”

Just like the first time I interacted with Adrian and leveled up, a favorability gauge above the Countess’s head filled rapidly. I hadn’t noticed it before, likely because of the room’s horrifying atmosphere. But there it was, floating above her, before disappearing again.

So, the Countess’s name was Priscilla. But what use was her favorability? She was already out of her mind.

“Did you say your name was Hilda?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly soft and sweet, like whipped cream. Her gentle gaze was almost enough to make me forget about the goat head she was holding. Almost.

“Yes, yes, Madam,” I answered quickly, my nerves still on edge.

Priscilla put down the now-empty cup, her expression warm and motherly. The incongruity of her kind demeanor in this nightmare of a room left me feeling uneasy but oddly sympathetic. She must not have been like this before. A gentle soul like hers would have been more vulnerable to breaking.

“You should visit the village.”

“The village?” I repeated, startled.

“There’s much to see there,” she said wistfully. “Andrew at the tea shop recently brought in a rare orange-scented rooibos blend from far away. I’ve been meaning to get some but haven’t had the chance.”@@novelbin@@

“Map Unlocked: You can now access Aida Village.”

“You can now leave the mansion.”

The sudden appearance of white text caught me off guard. I had been blocked from leaving the mansion before, but now Priscilla had unlocked it. My near heart attack seemed worth it in hindsight—if Leticia hadn’t sent me, I wouldn’t have unlocked the map.

I hadn’t realized that raising favorability with key characters was just as important as earning experience to unlock skills. If I’d known, I might’ve tried giving Adrian something earlier. He was a main character, so gaining his favor might have opened up even greater benefits.

“Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye… my sweet baby…”

The Countess had already reverted to her vacant, humming state, her head drooping forward as she cradled the goat’s head. The eerie lullaby and blood-soaked room still sent shivers down my spine, but my pity for her now overshadowed my fear.

Why am I feeling this way?

Perhaps it was because I knew her story and Adrian’s true nature. The world outside didn’t understand her. To them, Priscilla was simply mad. But I knew she had been a kind, gentle woman who shattered under the weight of a truth no one believed. She had cried out against the demon Adrian had become, only to be silenced and abandoned, locked away in her crimson cage.

“I’ll come back, Madam,” I said softly.

“Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye…”

“When I do, I’ll bring more ingredients from the village to make even better coffee for you.”

Balancing the tray carefully, I bowed my head before leaving the room. Priscilla didn’t respond, but her slumped shoulders radiated loneliness.

As I reached for the door, her voice, deeper and more chilling than before, floated through the air.

“Rest peacefully, rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye… my Adrian…”

My hand froze mid-motion.

Eyes wide, I turned to look back into the room, but the lullaby had stopped. Priscilla sat motionless in her rocking chair, her head tilted awkwardly as if she had fallen asleep.

Did I mishear? I could have sworn I heard her say Adrian’s name.

A wave of dread washed over me as I glanced around the hallway.