Sylvia checked the window one last time before throwing the rope out. She winced as it hit the side with a dull thump, barely audible but deafening in the nighttime silence. Sylvia pulled on the end attached to the bedpost, testing the strength of her knot. The rope was made from silk sheets so she had no doubt it would hold her weight, it was the coming loose from the anchor that had her worried. That and would it reach the ground. 

And would her new scrawny arms hold her. 

All in all, she gave herself a 50/50 chance, not inspiring but better than staying here. 

Sylvia took deep breath, yes, she was getting out or break some bones trying. Only three floors up, she was sure that she would at least survive a fall. 

How had she gotten here? To planning a prison break from an honest to God palace? 

In brutal honesty it was an embarrassing cliché. 

Four weeks ago, she got up for work, ran out the door, and got hit by a bus. When she opened her eyes, she’d been alone in a full-on canopy bed. Sitting up didn’t improve things as she was exposed to lavish decorations, pastel furniture, and overly patterned rugs. There’d been too much to look at with no focal piece to the room. It made her dizzy. God it was like being swallowed by Rococo style painting. 

Sylvia remembered stumbling out of the bed only to find that her legs weren’t the ones she had this morning. Or her hands or her…she rushed over to a gilded mirror and screamed. Her face hadn’t been looking back. 

To make matters worse, the maid, an actual maid in an apron and everything, that rushed in kept calling her ‘Sylvia’. That wasn’t her name! She couldn’t remember what her real name was but THAT WASN’T IT!  

Naturally she told the maid as much and asked in no uncertain terms just what the heck was going on. The maid didn’t answer, instead ran out and screamed that “Sylvia” had gone mad. Who even says that? 

Sylvia had given her a solid minute before she decided the maid wasn’t going to be any help. She got to her wobblily feet and exited the garish room herself. No one stopped her, and there were plenty of people in similar period costume that could have said something. Anything! They all just stared, whispered, and pointed. What was this high school? She’d graduated and left that nightmare forever, thank you. 

Eventually Sylvia had found a flight of stairs and nearly fell down them. And then someone pushed her down them. 

She’d landed on ribs that were already bruised and figured out why this body that wasn’t hers was so weak. “Sylvia” had recently taken a beating and the person laughing at the top of the stairs was either behind it or a party to it. 

“What’s so funny?” She’d wanted to curse but couldn’t for some reason. Great what else could go wrong? 

Her assailant, a girl in her late teens seemed taken aback by her question but recovered quickly. “Seeing you where you belong dear Sylvia.” Was her retort. 

And then she left Sylvia there to limp away on her own. What a b@#*t! 

This medieval mean-girl turned out to be Sylvia’s half-sister, Chloe Bisclavret and over the next few days Sylvia worked out the rest. 

Baron Bisclavret, Sylvia’s adoptive and Chloe’s biological father, first wife had died and hoping to still produce male heir, remarried. In true fairytale fashion he fell in love with a laundress after hearing her sing. That woman had been Sylvia’s mother. Sylvia had also been a child of a previous marriage and was brought along into this Cinderella story. Chloe had instantly been hostile at the new arrivals but was kept at bay by the smitten Baron Bisclavret. 

Then Sylvia’s mother had died, and the Baron turned on Sylvia simply because she resembled the woman he once loved. Sylvia’s life descended into stereotypical romance web novel misery. 

That thought had set the lightbulb off in her head. 

She was in an actually transmigration novel. Or having a very detailed coma dream but she was ruling that out unless she woke up. The plotline was too perfect for her imagination: the dying, the waking up in someone else’s body, the tragic backstory…she was now a poorly written one-dimensional heroine. Someone who was destined to suffer until the male lead rode in and saved her. Or a male lead, this may be a reverse-harem gig. 

Problem was that the newly arrived female protagonist had always read the story in their past life and used that information to help herself and other characters. Sylvia hadn’t read this one!

Ok, so she secretly loved these stupid stories, maybe stayed up too late reading them but it wasn’t like she condoned the message in them.

It’d just been a harmless escape, something she hated that she liked and would never, never admit to. She was a good feminist, and this was her one exception. Well second, as an artist she had to appreciate classic animated princesses. 

Fortunately, her hidden secret vice gave her enough information to go on. Avoid your family, don’t try to meet any main characters, and never change the story. It always caused way too much trouble and she didn’t have the Dues ex Machina on her side. 

So, she bided her time and planned her escape. 

Sylvia laid low, kept out of everyone’s way the best she could, and took only what she needed. She’d have to survive on the outside, so she made a list of the essentials. Clothes, money, and a head start. 

Sylvia found the first bit outside. Apparently, the former Sylvia liked to wander the grounds, including where the maid’s hung up the washing. She got her hands on well-worn dress, boots from when the maids went swimming in the pond, and enough blankets to tie a rope. 

Chloe inadvertently provided the funds for her future life. Never one to be satisfied, Chloe had a massive wardrobe, often only wearing a piece a few times before declaring it out of fashion. It was all insanely expensive or so Chloe boasted, any one of them could have allowed her to retire early in her past life.

Retire and draw for the rest of her days, that had always been the dream, maybe it could be now. 

 Sylvia decided jewelry was the clear option, small, easy to disassemble, and quick to snatch. She was in and out of Chloe’s room in under three minutes and so far, the alarm hadn’t been raised. 

It would probably be months before Chloe discovered the jewelry was missing. She may even realize Sylvia was missing if her “family” paid her any mind. Not that she wanted them to, she wanted to be long gone by then.