NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: Sara
Drip. Plop. Plop. Plop.
The sound of water droplets falling into the still bath echoed melodiously. Inside the tub, a body lay motionless—pale as paper. Her dark hair floated around her like seaweed, her eyes shut as she remained partially submerged in water. One could say she was asleep. Or perhaps… dead.
Splash!
"Yeah, Sara!!"
A roaring crowd erupted in her mind—a distant memory, the only one she could recall for now.
Her brows furrowed as she tried to concentrate, desperately pulling at the edges of her mind for the moments that followed. But nothing came. Just a blank void.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Sara! Sara! Are you back in that bathtub again?"
Julia's voice came from outside the door, her knocks light but laced with exasperation. She was used to her daughter's strange routine by now.
Sara's eyes snapped open. A pair of striking blue irises—deep as the ocean—reflected in the water before she jolted upright. She wiped her face with her pruned hands, the consequence of staying in the bath for too long.
"Sara!" her mother called again, more insistently this time.
"Coming, Mom," Sara mumbled, stepping out of the water. She grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her long hair, then reached for her bathrobe, tossing her wet clothes aside before heading out the door.
Julia stood there, arms crossed, a wooden ladle in one hand. A chubby woman of about 5'6", she had the same signature blue eyes, though age had dimmed their luster. She eyed Sara's damp, pale form with a mixture of concern and disdain.
"How many times have I told you not to sleep in the bathtub? You'll get sick!" she scolded.
Sara groaned, rubbing her temple. "Mama, the water was hot. So don't worry, I'm not catching a cold," she retorted, snatching the ladle from her mother's grasp and strolling toward the kitchen.
"Tsk! At least change into something decent for once!" Julia continued nagging, but Sara merely chuckled.
The aroma of bubbling soup filled the small apartment. Sara inhaled deeply, her stomach growling. "Hmm... I'm starving," she groaned, peering into the pot.
"Ladies! I'm back with fresh bread!"
Alfred, a tall and sturdy man with a kind face, entered through the front door, carrying a paper bag brimming with long baguettes and vegetables poking out of the top.
A wide grin spread across Sara's face as she rushed toward him. Alfred smiled back, expecting a hug—only for her to snatch the bag from his arms and spill its contents onto the table, rummaging through it frantically.
"Where are my CRCs?" she demanded, her expression turning dark.
Alfred's skin paled. "They ran out…"
Sara gasped in horror. "Aghh! My Crispy Rice Cakes!!" she wailed. "I ran out of mine, too! I NEED THEM!"
Dramatically collapsing onto the chair, she let out a theatrical cry of despair.
Julia sighed, grabbing a wooden spoon and lightly smacking Sara's arm. "Get up, you spoiled brat! Eat what's already made."
Sara huffed, rubbing the spot where she'd been smacked. "I don't like it when you talk to me like that," she muttered, dramatically dragging herself up. With an exaggerated walk, she plopped back into the dining chair, holding up a bowl.
"Gimmi me food," she demanded, grinning like a spoiled child.
Julia sighed, watching her daughter with a shake of her head. "When will you grow up? You're already twenty-four! You'll have a family of your own soon. How are you going to deal with your kids?"
Alfred chuckled as he walked up behind Sara, hugging her from the side. "Why do you talk like that to my little girl?" he teased. "She's still small. Why are you bringing up kids?" His eyes glinted with hidden meaning.
Julia shot him a look before turning away.
"Kids? I don't want any kids!" Sara huffed. "They're annoying and bratty. Ugh." She shuddered at the mere thought.
Julia quickly placed the bowl of soup in front of her, along with a piece of bread.
"Yum!" Sara rubbed her hands together excitedly.
Julia exhaled deeply, shaking her head as she watched her daughter practically bounce at the sight of food.
"This is the last time I'm making this for breakfast. You should eat something more nutritious in the morning! What is with this soup?" she scolded.
"I just crave it every now and then… I don't know why," Sara mumbled, nibbling on her bread. She stared into the bowl, trying to recall. "I can't seem to remember…" Her voice turned thoughtful. "It's like I've had it for a long time—like it reminds me of something. I like the feeling of almost remembering."
She smiled faintly and looked up at her mother—only to find Julia staring at her with a pale face.
Elsewhere, in a mansion so massive that one could get lost for days, a group of servants rushed through the halls, their arms weighed down with gowns. The place was intimidating—not just in size but in its sheer extravagance. Tall windows stretched from floor to ceiling, flooding the polished marble floors with soft morning light. Chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls, their crystals casting tiny rainbows along the carved wooden walls. The scent of fresh lilies lingered in the air, blending with a faint trace of expensive perfume that had long since settled into the luxurious fabrics of the furniture.
The maids stopped in front of a heavy set of double doors, taking a moment to collect themselves. Then, with careful precision, one of them knocked.
"Madam, may we enter?"
A quiet response came from inside. It wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be. Even the softest word from her carried weight. The maids pushed open the doors and stepped in, keeping their heads slightly bowed.
The woman standing in front of the tall mirror barely acknowledged them at first. Sofia Core—the matriarch of the family, a powerhouse in the business world, and someone you never wanted to disappoint. She held a dazzling earring to her ear, adjusting it with slow, deliberate movements. Her auburn hair, thick and well-kept, framed a face that was both elegant and severe. Sharp hazel eyes flicked toward the maids, her gaze unreadable.
The maids stiffened.
"Do you see what time it is?" Her voice was smooth, but there was something about it that made it clear she wasn't asking.
The head maid lowered her gaze. "Madam, the dresses arrived late. There was a traffic accident that blocked the delivery."
Sofia clicked the earring into place, her expression unmoved. "And? Was there no other way to get them here? Do you think that's a valid excuse?"
The maid swallowed. "I am sorr—"
"Shh."
The sound was soft, almost effortless, but it stopped the woman mid-sentence.
Sofia finally turned, barely sparing the head maid a glance before shifting her attention to the woman standing next to her.
"You," she said, pointing without hesitation. "Take over her responsibilities."
The dismissed maid's breath hitched. She didn't protest. She knew better.
Being fired by Sofia Core was almost a blessing compared to the alternative. The Core family wasn't just wealthy—they were powerful. Even the lowest-ranking employees made more than corporate managers in good companies. Losing a job here was like watching a golden ticket slip through your fingers, but wasting Sofia's time? That was something you couldn't come back from.
Tears pricked at the maid's eyes, but she kept her head down.
Sofia, already losing interest, turned on her heel and walked toward the door.
She didn't waste time on people who weren't worth it.