It seems I've died and been reborn. I've spent quite some time in this unfamiliar bed trying to make sense of everything, and that's the only conclusion I've come to.
Worse still, I appear to have been reborn into the body of a tyrant prince, if the terror in the maid's eyes is anything to go by. Frankly, the whole situation is irritating. A magical event like this might have thrilled me five years ago, back when I had no direction and still chased fantasy. But that was before I found something meaningful in life. Before I had an adorable goddaughter I was helping raise.
My best friend Ryan and his wife Natalie were constantly busy. Ryan ran a nonprofit, and Natalie was a state congresswoman. Since I worked for myself from home and had been close to them for years, I was happy to help with their daughter, Grace. Taking care of her came naturally. I enjoyed it so much, I even made an effort to get serious about dating again—
even though I used to think I'd never want a family of my own.
"Y-your Royal Highness, please… we must prepare you for dinner this evening. All of the royal lineage will be present."
The voice came from outside the curtains of the princeling's bed. It was Ella, the maid I mentioned earlier. Contrary to what I'd expected, this version of me wasn't surrounded by attendants. There was only one, and she was so nervous that she nearly fainted when I first glared at her after waking up. Even after I locked myself in this room for the last two days, no one else had come to see me. Just her.
"Inform them that I am ill."
The words flowed naturally, though they didn't feel like mine. My thoughts were still in English, but what left my mouth was distinctly foreign. It was an odd sensation, knowing I was being understood, yet feeling like the sounds were off. I hadn't tested the limits of this translation yet. Were the grammar rules the same? What about abstract concepts? Idioms? Slang?
"Highness! His Majesty w-would be most d-d-displeased if you miss such an occasion!"
There was real panic in her voice. It was clear that his displeasure wouldn't stop with me. That stirred something. I felt a twinge of guilt for the girl. She couldn't be older than sixteen. Certainly not a rambunctious five year old, but still young enough to remind me of her. Though, really, I was only twenty-eight when I… crossed over. Maybe I'm not old enough to be calling sixteen-year-olds "children."
That thought made me laugh, breaking the stillness that had settled over the room.
"Fine. I suppose it would be more trouble to skip it."
I threw off the blanket for the first time since arriving here and sat up. My joints cracked unpleasantly from the lack of movement, and my face flushed at the sound. Thankfully, Ella kept her head down as she pulled back the curtains, maintaining the discipline I'd expect of a proper royal servant.
"So, what preparations must I make?"
I sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for the tingling in my legs to fade. Now was the time to gather information. As much as I'd liked to pretend I was ready to give up, I had kept eating and drinking. The truth was, I wasn't quite ready to throw my life away. And maybe, just maybe, there was a way to return home.
"W-we must get you cleaned and groomed, Highness. Then comes the fitting. The dinner dress need not be pristine, so dressing should only take an hour."
An hour? I stared at her, incredulous. How could it possibly take that long? My eyes dropped to her clothing: an ankle-length wool gown, modest in shape, with a linen apron tied around her waist and a white coif covering her hair. It looked exactly like something a maid from the fifteenth century would wear.
I sighed and took a moment to study the room. It was painfully lavish, adorned with gold, silver, and some bright blue metal on nearly every piece of furniture. The gaudiness hurt my eyes, and I was tempted to bury myself back under the covers. I'd caught glimpses of the room when food was brought in, but I hadn't taken a good look until now.
My own clothes were simple enough, loose white silk shirt and pants. The canopy above me displayed a mural of a woman weeping into a field of crops. It was clearly religious, though I had no idea what it meant. I'd assumed the people of this world might have taste, having seen that mural. Clearly, I'd been wrong.
"Then take me to be cleaned."
If I understood this setting correctly, I should expect a bath of some kind. But I wouldn't place money on it just yet.
Ella gave a small, nervous nod and stepped back from the bed, gesturing toward the doorway with both hands as though presenting an altar. I stood slowly, letting my feet settle against the polished stone floor, cool and unwelcoming. It was slipperier than I expected, and for a moment I had the irrational fear I'd fall flat on my face and die again. That would be just my luck, to snap my neck slipping on marble tile the moment I decided I wasn't going to kill myself.
"Th-this way, Highness," Ella said softly, keeping her gaze fixed somewhere just above my shoulder.
She led me through the chamber's massive double doors. Outside was a hallway wide enough to drive a car through, flanked by ornate columns and draped in deep crimson tapestries. Everything gleamed. It was clear that the floors were polished often, maybe as a defensive tactic? Shine a light at the right angle and any would be attacker would go blind.
We walked in silence, our steps echoing faintly beneath the arched ceiling. My legs still tingled slightly, but I tried not to limp. I didn't know what sort of reputation this prince had, but based on Ella's visible anxiety, I doubted showing weakness would help my standing.
"Ella," I said quietly, watching her flinch at the sound of her name. "What exactly is expected of me at this dinner?"
She hesitated, clearly unsure if she was even allowed to answer. I waited.
"I-it's the standard court dinner, where everyone shares their progress with His Majesty…." she finally let out, her voice tight with the fear that she'd somehow overlooked some hidden malice in my silence. Sorry, Ella. It's not that I'm continuing to torment you, I'm just more clueless than you could possibly imagine.
We reached a tall, arched doorway flanked by twin statues of armored women holding spears. Without another word, Ella stepped forward and pulled the iron handle, revealing the bath chamber beyond.
The room was warm, lit by flickering sconces and high-set stained glass windows that cast soft patterns across the floor. Unlike the rest of the gaudy palace, this chamber felt serene and grounded, like a hidden sanctuary carved from nature itself. The enormous sunken bath stretched nearly wall to wall, its stone basin shaped with smooth, organic curves that mimicked the flow of a natural spring. Polished rocks framed the edges, and moss-colored tiles gave the water a faint green shimmer. From the far side of the room, a gentle waterfall poured steadily from an arched stone outlet, the sound soft and rhythmic, almost meditative. How did that work? Buckets and basins were arranged neatly along one wall, accompanied by soaps, oils, and folded cloths. The air smelled faintly of lavender and something sharper—mint, or perhaps pine—clean and refreshing in a way that made me almost forget where I was.
"This is the prince's private bath," Ella said. "Would you prefer to bathe alone, Highness, or shall I—"
"Alone," I said, perhaps too quickly.
Ella looked relieved. "Of course. As you can see, the water has been set to your liking. Please ring the bellpull by the door for assistance, should you require anything."
She gave a brief curtsy, then turned to leave. Before exiting, she paused and added, "I will return with your dinner attire once you are finished."
With that, she slipped out and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving me alone in the steam-filled chamber.
I exhaled, savoring the quiet, though it did little to calm the anxiety churning inside me. I had no desire to bathe with Ella present, but my time to figure out how I should carry myself was quickly running out. As much as I wanted to linger and enjoy the strange peace of this place, I needed to be quick. Part of me wanted to skip the whole thing, but I knew showing up smelling like two days of sweat and stress wouldn't exactly endear me to my new family.
Even so, I let myself linger a moment longer, staring at the golden-eyed figure reflected in the water. The face that moved with mine looked young, perhaps fifteen or sixteen. Messy black hair clung to it in uneven strands, greasy and just long enough to suggest someone had stopped bothering to trim it. The features were delicate, almost androgynous, with a softness that gave the whole face a quiet, vulnerable charm.
It wouldn't look out of place in a BL story.
God, I hope I haven't landed in one. My build was small, my shoulders narrow, and I had no real muscle to speak of. I looked every bit the helpless, flustered type. The damsel. Fantastic. Wasn't I supposed to be terrifying?
With a quiet sigh, I stepped into the water. Heat wrapped around my ankles, then my legs, until I eased in fully and let it close over my shoulders. The warmth seeped into everything and for the first time since waking up in this world, I felt something close to comfort.
I hadn't planned to stay in long. A quick rinse, maybe a scrub, then on to whatever ceremonial strangeness lay ahead. But the water was patient, and I found myself sinking lower, chin barely above the surface, arms floating at my sides. The gentle rush of the waterfall in the distance filled the room with a white noise hum, lulling my thoughts into something slower and quieter.
Just five more minutes.
That lie bought me nearly thirty. By the time I finally pulled myself out, my skin had gone pink and wrinkled from the heat. I reached for a cloth and began drying off, then pulled on the robe that had been folded nearby. It was thin, soft, and barely decent by modern standards. As I moved toward the bellpull, I caught my reflection once more in the polished stone wall. Wet hair now clung to my cheeks, making me look even smaller than I already was. I stared at the reflection for a moment, then made a quiet, deeply serious resolution.
I would be avoiding any handsome, broad-shouldered knights who tried to strike up conversation.
Just in case.
After dressing in the linen underlayer provided, I gave the bell a firm tug, and the cord twitched in response. Within moments, the door opened.
Ella stepped inside, eyes lowered, followed by two other figures—older women, maybe in their fifties. Both wore the same traditional uniform, but their postures were practiced and brisk, not nervous like Ella's. They carried tools: one with a case of thin scissors and combs, the other with a small tray of powders, brushes, and a soft cloth.
"I brought the groomers, as promised, Highness," Ella said, her voice careful.
"Understood," I replied, stepping away from the bath toward a padded bench I hadn't noticed earlier. Surprisingly, the humidity of the bath didn't reach the entrance.
I sat down as one of the women moved behind me and began gently combing through the damp tangle of hair. Her touch was efficient and impersonal.
Still, I couldn't help tensing slightly when the scissors began snipping away. Strands of black fell to the floor. The other servant approached next, dabbing a bit of powder onto a small brush and lightly working it over my face. Despite an instinctual rejection, I force myself to allow it. It should be fine, just so long as I send any handsome knights who approach me straight to the dungeon...
Ella stood off to the side, watching quietly. I glanced her way as the scissors continued to snip.
"So, what news is there on my siblings' accomplishments? I trust there's been progress worth presenting to His Majesty tonight." That seems a natural enough way to get a handle of what I can expect from this dinner.
Ella blinked, visibly caught off guard. "Y-yes, Highness. Crown Prince Alric recently secured a major victory on the demon front, he captured the Vatapi Plains just last week. Princess Mirelle continues to oversee the Alchemy Tower. She has no formal accomplishments to present tonight, but her progress is steady and well-regarded. As for Princess Thalia…"
She hesitated, then added softly, "It appears she's brokered peace talks with Auremath. She will… almost certainly be the star of tonight's gathering."
I sat quietly for a moment, letting it all sink in. So there is magic here. I guess that tracks, being flung into a new body isn't exactly mundane. Still, it was a lot to process.
Apparently, this royal family is filled with overachievers. Of course it is. Why couldn't I have landed in one of those dynasties where everyone's useless and idle? I could've simply nodded along, kept my head down, and bought enough time to figure out how the hell to get back home. Then again… that kind of setup probably comes with its own threats.
Damn it.
"And how would my own achievements compare to theirs, in your estimation?"
Ella went completely still. I watched her throat bob as she swallowed, her eyes locked just past my shoulder like she'd glimpsed death lurking behind me.
The two other attendants—one still holding a tray of grooming tools, the other folding the discarded towel—both froze mid-motion. Neither dared to look up. One of them instinctively took a step back, eyes downcast, while the other held her breath so sharply that the silence in the room seemed to deepen around her.
"I… y-your Highness," Ella began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Of course your deeds are… are held in esteem."
The tray-bearing woman shifted her weight slowly, carefully, as though even the sound of footfalls might provoke punishment. The other began refolding the towel for a third time, fingers trembling just slightly at the corners.
Well, I had suspected as much. The fact that no one had checked on me while I lay in bed for two days was a pretty clear sign I wasn't considered all that essential. Still, I had to have been responsible for something. A prince, even a feared one, wouldn't be left completely idle.
As much as I hated pressing them, I needed more information.
"It is only natural," I said smoothly. "So then—recite them for me."
I made the educated guess that the previous occupant of this body had expected praise regularly. Probably demanded it.
"Your Royal Highness has made impressive strides in his education," Ella said, her tone suddenly polished and rehearsed. The stammer vanished. "Your tutors often remark that you will be more than prepared for the academy in the coming season."
Academy?
I have school again?
And not just that—I'm expected to be prepared for it? Am I supposed to recite things at this dinner? Perform magic? Fuck, I don't even know what language I'm speaking. If someone so much as asks me what year it is, I'll be done for.
"I, uh, I wouldn't happen to have some notes of my recent studies lying around, would I?" The princely facade I'd been struggling to maintain slipped, cracking under the weight of real worry. If I hadn't spent the last two days wallowing in bed, I might've had time to prepare.
Damn it, past me. Turns out procrastination survives body-swapping.