I sat in my chamber, a grand space with silk-draped windows, heavy tapestries, and more velvet than any room truly needed. It was beautiful, sure, but also a bit much. Everything was heavy and ornate, like it was trying too hard to remind me that I was now “Lady Liana Valen” of some important noble house. I ran a finger along the plush armrest of my chair, feeling like an imposter in a play I hadn’t auditioned for.

“Okay, this is... something,” I muttered, glancing around. Gold leaf on the mirror frames, embroidered cushions, tapestries probably worth more than my entire apartment back home. But as grand as it was, this room didn’t feel like mine.

The view outside was breathtaking, though. Rolling hills, a lush forest, and a river winding its way through the landscape, looking like something out of a fantasy novel—which, I supposed, this now was. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and sighed. Just days ago, I’d been Angela, the dedicated chemical engineer with a life purpose: to make the world a cleaner, healthier place, one disinfectant at a time. And now? Here I was, alive in some different world. All I had wanted was to improve sanitation practices, not end up as Lady Liana Valen, potential germ-buster of the North.

"Of course, I go out in a lab accident,” I chuckled bitterly, shaking my head. "Classic Angela.” I could almost hear my old self rolling her eyes. It was absurd—a lab accident! But while the world around me was confusing and weird, one thing was crystal clear: these people needed hygiene.

I took a closer look around, my professional instincts kicking in. The room was beautiful but, well…dusty. A faint mustiness clung to the curtains, and there was dust in the corners. Even the bed, with its mountain of soft pillows, seemed to hold onto that stale air that just screamed *deep clean me*. 

The rest of the castle didn’t fare much better. Earlier, I’d taken a cautious stroll through the halls, and I’d gotten a good whiff of the kitchen. That’s right—the kitchen! In theory, the heart of every home. But instead of a comforting aroma of fresh bread or roasting meat, it smelled...off. I wasn’t an expert chef, but I could tell that much. It felt criminal to have all this luxury but none of the basics.

“Are those dishes... unwashed?” I squinted at a far-off window, trying to catch a glimpse of the kitchen again. I could see the kitchen staff bustling around, but I knew they weren’t using disinfectant or even basic cleaning practices. Probably just rinsing things with lukewarm water, if that. “How do you have a castle with so much gold leaf but not a single sponge?” I muttered.

A deep-seated irritation started bubbling up in me, but not just because of the dust or the stale smells. No, it was the missed potential. Here they were, with so many resources, and yet the simplest health measures were ignored. If the kitchen looked like that, what else would I find?

I leaned back in the chair, an idea starting to take shape. If I was stuck here, then maybe I could make myself useful. I could improve the hygiene standards, bring in some modern principles, and maybe—just maybe—make life better for everyone around here.

But...how? This was a society entrenched in tradition. I could almost hear the resistance. “Why wash your hands before eating? We’ve been fine so far!” And then there was the social etiquette. My family seemed very invested in all those noble protocols I was still trying to remember. It was hard enough remembering to curtsy, let alone trying to teach the duchy about bacteria.

“Still,” I mused aloud, “this place could use a little education.” A spark of excitement buzzed through me. There were people living and working here, people who deserved better living conditions. I might not have a full lab at my disposal, but I had a brain that knew a lot about health and sanitation. And apparently, in this world, that was more than enough to start a revolution.

I stood up, pacing the room with renewed energy. I imagined drafting a list of supplies and practices: basic soap, some disinfecting concoctions, maybe a cleaning schedule to start. My mind raced with possibilities. I even pictured myself leading a workshop in the castle courtyard, demonstrating the wonders of handwashing while shouting slogans like, “Wash your hands, save your life!” Ridiculous? Maybe, but no one else seemed to know this stuff.

I laughed at the image of myself waving soap around like some kind of hygiene crusader. “Good one, Liana. ‘Lady Valen’s Cleanliness Crusade,’” I joked, giving myself an imaginary pat on the back.

But I couldn’t just march in and demand everyone listen to me. I’d need support from the higher-ups, namely my father, Lord Aldric Valen. He was a serious man, and I hadn’t spent much time with him yet, but maybe he’d be open to it if I framed it as a benefit to the family’s health and reputation. After all, what noble wouldn’t want to be the family responsible for sparking a cleanliness revolution?

“Right,” I said to myself, standing a little taller, “I’ll need to get Father on board.” The thought of convincing a no-nonsense duke to care about soap felt like a stretch, but stranger things had already happened. And besides, nobles were supposed to lead by example, right? I was pretty sure I could make example-setting sound appealing.

I went back to the window, staring at the vast, beautiful lands of the duchy as the sun began to dip. This place was truly lovely, and with some effort, it could be even better. Cleaner. Healthier.

There would be challenges, sure. But this world had given me a second chance, and I wasn’t about to waste it. I took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill my lungs, feeling that same spark of excitement I’d get when a lab experiment was about to succeed.

Standing there, I grinned. “Alright, Lady Valen, time to make a change.” With that, I turned away from the window, ready to take on whatever lay ahead. If anyone was going to clean up this world, it might as well be me.