My lungs seize as invisible hands tighten around my throat, darkness crowding the edges of my vision. I jolt upright, gasping, my silky dress clinging to my chest like a second skin. My heart hammers against my ribs.

Finally free from that suffocating nightmare. Just a dream after all.

Relief washes over me, my breathing gradually slowing to normal. But as my eyes adjust to the surroundings, unfamiliar environment take shape across unfamiliar walls. My momentary calm evaporates like morning dew, replaced by a cold, creeping dread that starts at the base of my spine and works its way upward.

Damn. Where in the world I am at again? A bedroom of Maria Antoinette?

Above me stretched a vaulted ceiling you’d expect in a castle, not a modern home. A bed fit for a princess dominated the space, its headboard gleaming with gold leaf against pristine white upholstery, matching the embroidered bedding that looked too perfect to touch. The ceiling told stories in painted murals framed by gold moldings, while a chandelier hung like frozen fireworks overhead. Gold-framed paintings lined walls that had probably never known a poster or a thumbtack.

Sunlight poured through an arch window tall enough for Rapunzel, past crimson curtains that pooled dramatically on the floor. Outside lay gardens manicured within an inch of their lives and a stone balcony straight from Romeo and Juliet. My feet sank into a Persian rug worth more than my car, while antique lamps cast warm light over red brocade chairs. Even the plants looked expensive, strategically placed to soften all this royal splendor into something almost livable.

This is not merely a bedroom, but a chamber fit for nobility, where luxury and artistry converge.

My mind fractures with confusion. Is this still the dream? Reality shifts like quicksand beneath me. I dig my nails into my cheek, then bite down on my hand until I taste copper. The pain explodes, sharp and real. I slap myself hard enough to make my ears ring, desperate to wake up. But nothing changes. The silk sheets beneath my fingertips, the heavy scent of rose oil in the air—it’s all horrifyingly real. How did I get here? Seconds ago I stood with Ethan, waiting to meet the master, and now—

“You are from noble family, Lady.”

Ethan’s voice thunders through my memory. My heart pounds against my ribs like a prisoner demanding release. Could it be? My eyes dart wildly around the chamber—gilded mirrors taller than doorways, tapestries worth more than villages, jewels scattered carelessly across the vanity. I stumble toward a mirror, dreading what I might see.

I stare at myself in the mirror, pressing my fingertips against the cold glass until they turn white. It’s me—but is it? Same eyes, same face, but something’s wrong. If this is some multiverse twin’s life I’ve hijacked, shouldn’t I feel guilty? Or relieved it’s not my real life that’s shattered?

I can’t decide if I want to laugh or scream. No way back, probably. God, I’m terrified—but also curious. What kind of power does this version of me wield? Do I run a corporation here? Rule a kingdom? Or am I just some pampered prisoner? The silk nightdress sliding against my skin wasn’t what I wore before.

Someone must have undressed me while I was unconscious. I should feel shy, but what if they were just helping me to change my soaking dress?

But.. What if they’re still watching me now?

I look around and, suddenly a door slowly cracks open. My heart races—part of me wants to hide, to escape this bizarre situation, but another part desperately hopes whoever enters might explain what’s happening to me. I freeze, caught between these opposing instincts, as a shadow stretches across the threshold.