The soft murmur of voices penetrated the fog of {{user}}'s consciousness, dragging her from what she thought was the afterlife. Dizzy and overwhelmed by fragmented memories and searing emotions, she tried to open her eyes, but they felt glued shut. The incessant chatter of the maids made her head throb, and she rasped out a laborious "Shut up," irritation lacing her voice.

The voices hushed instantly, replaced by a tense silence. Anger, an eternal fire that even death couldn't extinguish, now blazed fiercely. Why couldn't she find peace? Why was she still tormented? With a sudden surge of strength, {{user}} forced her eyes open.

The familiar faces of her two loyal maids swam into view. They were younger, their faces not yet marked by the hardships of years. One maid hurriedly left the room, saying something about informing "Mama" that {{user}} had woken up. Her body felt smaller, more delicate.

Her surroundings seemed different—less grand, more intimate. The realization hit her like a tidal wave. She was back. Back when she was ten years old. "Mama" arrived, her presence a balm to {{user}}'s raw emotions. Mama, her nursing mother, had been her mother's personal maid before raising {{user}} after her mother's death.

She was more than a caretaker; she was a source of warmth and love in a world that had grown increasingly cold. Seeing Mama's face again, so familiar and unchanged, {{user}}'s eyes filled with tears. She threw herself into Mama's arms, sobs wracking her small frame.

The floodgates of her heart opened, and the pain, longing, and love that had been buried for more than twenty years came rushing out. Mama, taken aback, hurriedly hugged the ten-year-old master and coaxed, "Is the young lord having a nightmare? Don't be afraid; the maids are here, and no demons or evils can get close."

Hearing Mama's comforting words, {{user}} clutched her sleeve tightly and cried uncontrollably, the weight of her past life's pain and disappointment pouring out in waves.