Stolen Life, Broken Vows

This Is “Me” Now

The young woman staring back at her had a beautiful face with strong features. Her wide, piercing eyes were a brilliant blue in color, and her loosely braided hair was a blonde so pale it was practically white. She was taller than average and had a slender figure, but at the moment, her complexion made her look sick.

And why wouldn’t she be? Even though that face was displaying the same horror and confusion she felt, even though it blinked when she blinked, or shook its head in denial when she did, that still couldn’t erase the fact that that was not her own face she was looking at.

Feeling numb and weak all over, she stumbled away from her alien reflection and only made it to the side of the bed before dropping to the floor. As she drew her knees close to her body, she reached for her head to clutch it in a tight grip.

For a time, the shock of it all made her mind completely blank. She had short-circuited so badly that she couldn’t begin to make sense of what was happening. What kind of drug out there could even produce this kind of effect…?

But the moment it registered that her scalp hurt due to how hard she was pulling at her hair, she finally began to calm down and carefully reassess her situation.

Tearing out individual strands of hair had hurt her, which meant she wasn’t wearing a wig. That same pain also told her that whatever else was going on, she wasn’t dreaming. No matter how absurd and impossible everything was, she was sure she hadn’t gone insane—even drug-induced hallucinations weren’t supposed to be this “complete.” It’s only parts of your reality that get altered or distorted, not the entire thing.

Was this “that” kind of situation, then…? Was she somehow transported into another world or time period and was now possessing the body of someone else?

It sounded crazy because it is—she’d only ever seen things like that happening in books and on television. It was supposed to be impossible to happen for real.

But she had little choice right now except to pursue that crazy hypothesis. Looking around the room, she realized there wasn’t a single modern amenity to be found. There were no electric sockets, no wires or devices, not even pipes or vents for air conditioning. And unless she was deep in the countryside, the usual background noise you’d hear in any populated area was also missing.

A part of her still found it unbelievable that she was even considering this possibility, but no other explanation made more sense at the moment. Even if her appearance had changed, for instance, she should be able to recognize how her own body felt. But now that she was focusing on it as she examined herself from head to toe, this one just didn’t feel familiar. It was younger, taller, and heavier in certain places, yet she couldn’t find a single trace of plastic surgery. Though there was some pain and discomfort, it was only at the parts where you’d expect a woman to ache on a regular basis.

She could come up with countless theories about how she may have gotten kidn*pped, but not for how her entire body changed so seamlessly overnight, nor for how she could suddenly speak and understand a language she’d never even heard of before. No matter how “impossible,” it could only be because her consciousness had been transferred to another vessel, quite possibly to another world.

Now the question is… she thought in cold dread. How do I transfer it back?

…

She wasn’t proud of the things she did or contemplated doing after asking herself that question. Earlier when she woke up, the sun had just risen. Now, it was halfway to midday, but aside from gaining an aching forehead, the only thing she’d accomplished was deciding on an initial course of action.

Until she found a way to return home, she would have to pretend to be someone else.

Whatever she did, she knew she could not afford to appear crazy. If “she” were ever suspected of losing her marbles, the people around her might make her situation exponentially worse. Who knows how they dealt with insanity around here? For now, she had to appear as normal as possible and just play along. If this wasn’t just a temporary thing, she’d still have plenty of time later to fall into pieces.

Her first order of business was figuring out the identity of this body she now possessed. The software had unfortunately not come with the hardware—she had no memories from the body’s original owner.

Thinking of the maid who’d called her “my lady” earlier, she reached for the bell pull right beside the bed. A short time later, that same maid appeared. The girl of only fifteen or so was better composed now as she politely bid her a good morning. However, she still appeared nervous, like even the smallest thing could make her jump in fear again.

There has to be a reason for that, she thought. ‘I’m’ probably not a very nice boss.

“Shall I bring your breakfast here again, my lady…?” the maid asked hesitantly. It still felt odd that she could understand her, but she told herself to get used to it, stat. “O-or would you like to join your family in the dining room today?”

“I’ll join them,” she replied, answering so decisively that it made the girl widen her eyes in surprise.

There’s probably a reason for that reaction too, she noted absently as she looked down at her nightgown-clad body. She had to put on some real clothes, but she had no idea where to find anything in this room.

Knowing she couldn’t suddenly act nice when she was apparently a scary employer before, she ordered matter-of-factly, “Help me get ready.”

The maid moved to obey at once. “Of course, my lady.”

It was a struggle not to look weirded out during the entire grooming process. She couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it was, a grown woman having to be helped just to get dressed and dolled up for the day. But since she wouldn’t have known how to put on these old-fashioned clothes or make herself look the part of a lady, she just let the maid do whatever needed to be done.

While pretending to be zoned out, she forced herself to get used to seeing her new face in the mirror. It was something she needed to do if she was going to hold on to her sanity.

That face might not truly be mine, she told herself over and over again, but this is ‘me’ now. All of this is really happening. I haven’t just gone batshit crazy. This world is real… That face is mine… She is me…

Once she had internalized her new reality as best as she could, she thought about her next problem: dealing with “her” family.

Since I’m being called ‘my lady,’ she thought, my family must be part of the nobility. That means there’s strict etiquette that we’re supposed to follow. I could probably get away with treating a servant however I want, but not other nobles.

Knowing she needed to find out more, not just about this world but about “herself,” she took a stab in the dark and asked the maid, “Have you seen my diary?”

The maid, who was now doing her hair, nervously met her eyes through the vanity mirror. “Your diary, my lady…? I-I… I wasn’t aware you kept one…”

Disappointed that her gamble didn’t pay off, she was about to let it go when the maid continued, “H-have you checked your desk, my lady…? Y-you forbade us from cleaning it, a-and you keep the drawer locked at all times… I-I swear I’ve never gone near it—”

“Yes,” she said, cutting the maid off. What the hell had she done to her before? The poor girl was practically quaking in her boots, thinking she was being accused of stealing the diary. She didn’t even know for a fact that there was one. “I must have dreamt I misplaced it,” she continued, hoping to calm the maid despite sounding brusque. “Of course that’s where it is.”

“Yes, my lady…”

As the maid continued doing her hair with shaking hands, she decided it would be pushing it if she asked her where the key to that drawer was. For now, she had no choice but to go in blind when joining her family for breakfast. She didn’t even know where the dining room was.

Thinking on her feet, she pretended to feel too weak to move around on her own. Even though she badly wanted to give this maid a break from her, she asked to be supported all the way to where she needed to go.

Her room and the view outside it had been impressive enough, but as the maid steered her through corridors, stairs, and halls, it fully dawned on her that she was in an honest-to-goodness mansion. With its wide and bright interior, gold and crystal accents, and other old-fashioned but tasteful decorations, the place rivaled the most opulent hotels back in her world.

When they finally reached the dining room, a sharply dressed footman opened the door for her and even announced her presence to the people already inside.

That was when she finally learned “her” name.

“My lords, my ladies, Lady Isella has arrived.”