Magnolia's diary read,
[Dear Dahlia, I really want to die right now.]
Not even past the first sentence, and I could already smell the angst coming off these pages. Did I really want to subject myself to this emo shit? And who the heck was Dahlia?
Besides that, was it ethical to read a dead girl's diary? And beyond that, was it ethical to read a dead girl's diary if your soul came to inhabit her body? I hoped so. I really did.
I didn't want this being the reason I went to hell, or whatever the actual bad place was.
If it wasn't ethical, well… who the heck was gonna stop me?
My nosy self kept on reading.
[Another tea party. Always these fucking tea parties that I don't wanna go to.]
"Woah, language."
[Mother says that a proper young lady needs to learn how to socialize and make friends, and that these gatherings are the only way to do so.
But I say, fuck them. All of them have their heads up their asses, especially that arrogant, snooty, snobby little bitch Bella. I'm not going.]
That's how the first entry ended.
'Shit, she just like me for real,' was the first thing I thought. Though I wasn't as foul-mouthed as her.
But anti-social? Check.
Attitude? Check.
Angry at the world? Also check.
Still, I wondered. Was this how I should act? Would people be suspicious if I, Magnolia, was suddenly prim and proper? Was she as brash as this entry led me to believe?
Although it could've just been her confiding her innermost feelings to her diary, so she let loose, cussing as she pleased.
It definitely gave that vibe.
Even her handwriting was a bit scratchy at the end there. Especially at the name Bella. What did Bella do to Magnolia? Whatever it was, I already hated her.
Did I? I didn't even know this Bella girl.
Did I hate her because Magnolia hated her? The feeling that swelled in my chest wasn't exactly hate…
'Well, whatever.' I dismissed it.
Being bratty and foul-mouthed was definitely not the way to blend into the background, so I'd stick to my game plan. Prim and proper. And that was most likely how Magnolia acted… at least I hoped so.
This face, this room, all these things, they belonged to Magnolia, and she was now dead.
Probably murder. And that fucking poison was agonizingly vicious. I could barely handle those few seconds before the god healed me. Imagine dying that way.
Like lava poured down your throat into your stomach, pain radiating like heat from your core. My body shuddered at the thought.
Another reason to escape this place. Maybe if I left, the murderer would just leave me alone. That was assuming Magnolia didn't know their identity. If she did… well, then I was fucked, because I didn't know shit, and the murderer probably didn't want any witnesses.
Was it Bella? Surely not. I assumed it was a peer of Magnolia's, with how flippantly she wrote about her. Maybe a rival, or a bully of hers. Did Magnolia have bullies? And who the heck was Dahlia?
My working theory was that it was her diary's name, which wouldn't be out of the ordinary.
And if Dahlia wasn't real, well then who did I have? A bully, a murderer, and an imaginary friend?
And Magnolia's family. How neglectful were they that their daughter died of poisoning in her own room and they probably had no clue about it, seeing as I was not in a coffin, or the morgue.
Well, she definitely died in the night, based on what the god had said. Something about getting me in before the body went cold.
Did the killer sneak into her room? Or was her food poisoned?
Looking around the room, sure, the bed was messy, but that was my doing. Nothing else seemed out of place. Even the windows behind the curtains were closed.
She didn't seem to have a single confidant or friend. Kept to herself, isolated, and her parents probably weren't really hands-on.
Fuck. I was about to crash out. This was too depressing.
I calmed myself. This was good news. Isolation was good. It meant I could easily slip away when I finally put my escape plan into motion.
'Yes… look at the bright side,' I told myself.
I closed the diary and glanced at the jewelry box. I'd definitely take them with me during my escape.
Just then, I heard footsteps.
My eyes snapped to the door as the footsteps seemed to get louder. Were they heading toward my room, or were they gonna go past? I couldn't tell. And from the cadence, whoever it was was running like hell.
Fuck, the mask. I still hadn't found a hiding place.
I quickly slipped the diary back into the far end of the drawer, hidden in shadow. Then the jewelry box fit snugly at the front end, making it seem like it was built into the drawer and there was no back end.
The footsteps got closer, and I could hear panting with them.
"Shit." I snatched the mask up by its long nose. "Where the hell am I gonna hide you, you big, fat… thing?"
The spot where the diary hid was too small. In fact, none of these drawers were good hiding spots. I jumped to my feet, looking around. Under the bed? Or maybe give in and hide it in the wardrobe?
Swinging it in frustration, I huffed. This mask was shaping up to be a real pain in the ass—
That was when it happened.
The footsteps went silent outside my door as the air itself seemed to still…
A deep, suffocating malice poured out from the mask, filling the room like thick fog, its aura oozing out from every carved crevice on its dark crimson face.
Of course, having graduated from the school of self-preservation, I yeeted it instantly, jumping back until my back hit the wall like a cornered animal.
But the mask didn't go far. It froze midair, turned itself right side up, and faced me.
Cold fear slammed into my chest. The mask trembled midair, vibrating violently.
The vibrations intensified with each passing second, the air around it rippling. It was as if something within it was struggling to break free.
The oppressive aura overflowed, inched toward me, and before I could make a move, it curled around my limbs like the tendrils of a deep-sea monstrosity—
Up my calves, thighs, hips, and waist. Then my torso, shoulders, up my neck, then down my arms, pinning me in place. My breath hitched, my body frozen.
I was freaking out. Of course I was fucking freaking out, heart racing like a cornered rabbit. Had I offended that damned mask?
And what the hell? I thought it wouldn't be a threat if I didn't pour my aether, or whatever the fuck, into it. Yet here it was, fucking with me.
God of luck? More like god of fucking liars!
The creaking sound of shifting wood scraped against my ears, as jarring as nails on a chalkboard, as the mask's expression began to shift.
The once-frowning face twisted upward into a malicious, mocking grin.
I thought, 'This is how I fucking die, isn't it… again?' Fuck me.
What a waste of a second life. That god set me up.
Death was near then—
POUF…
It plopped onto the floor in a cloud of pink, fluffy, swirling smoke that quickly cleared as if it were never there, leaving only a… ring?
Where the heck was the mask?
Then it dawned on me as I hesitantly inched closer and got on all fours, inspecting the ring. I didn't want to touch it. It looked to be made of wood, but polished and sleek.
'The hell?' The crushing aura from before was gone, but the memory of it clung to me like the aftertaste of something bitter.
I poked the ring, despite my body's protests.
Yep. It was the mask. How? Who the fuck knows. But how suspiciously convenient it was that it turned into a ring.
I picked it up. Did it want me to wear it? Maybe. But what made it think I'd put it on after that terrifying display it just pulled? Did it think I was stupid?
"Well fuck you, Mister Ring," I grumbled as I turned it in my palm, examining the burl figure, the waving, curling patterns it contained. It was heavy in my hands, cold as well.
I felt like Gollum as I inspected it. Almost even said my precious.
Before the door slammed open, sending another burst of panic through my body.
"Fuck!" The word slipped out before I could stop it, and I instantly cupped my mouth, knowing I shouldn't have cussed like that.
The ring hidden in my palm, I whipped my head toward the doorway.
It stood wide open.
And standing there was a girl.
…
A girl stood there, panting, wide-eyed, and frazzled.
She was dressed like… a maid?
Was she the one stomping down the hall in a hurry? I suddenly realized it had barely even been twenty seconds from the time I heard the footsteps to the time the mask turned itself into a ring.
The maid, I assumed she was, wore a simple black, floor-length, long-sleeved dress with white cuffs and a collar matching the cuffs.
A white apron covered the front of the dress with shoulder straps, along with a white cap. I noticed sturdy, flat-heeled ankle boots as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, trying to catch her breath.
She stared at me for what felt like minutes. Was she scandalized? She was definitely out of breath, and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I was on the floor like a gremlin.
I quickly hopped to my feet, slipping the ring onto my pinky. I didn't want to lose it, nor did I want her to notice it. Thankfully, she was too busy trying to breathe to notice.
It didn't feel weird on me. No ominous energy, just the cold, polished wooden ring and the weight of it. Nothing else.
I figured if it somehow didn't want to come off, I'd just chop off my pinky. That's why I put it there and not my middle finger. I needed my middle finger.
Finally catching her breath, she looked up at me, and instantly her eyes began tearing up as she tumbled toward me like a damsel in distress. The tumble—
"Magnolia!" she cried. "Lady Freya is gonna kill me," sobbing as she did.
I barely had time to react.
The maid was young, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with jet-black hair tied neatly into a bun under her white cap. And she was coming fast, the ditsy run becoming more like the charge of a bull.
'What should I do?!'
My brain short-circuited. First the mask, now this? How many heart attacks can one have in a day without keeling over? Now another was incoming at full speed, arms wide open. Did she want me to comfort her?
Time seemed to slow.
Was she gonna tackle me or run me over? Then I shuddered as I realized… a hug. My stomach churned.
Was I supposed to stop her? Move aside? Spread my arms as well? Would it have been rude to move aside?
I was about to raise my fist directly in front of her before deciding against it.
This was it.
A serene acceptance washed over me as I braced myself. 'At least it's not a truck.'
Time snapped back into place. Before she could even get close—
The maid tripped on nothing and face-planted spectacularly, her momentum dragging her all the way to my feet.
I looked down at her.
"A-Are you oka—"
She lifted her head, barely holding it together, and got on her knees before me.
I quickly scolded myself for the thoughts that arose in my sick head before she spoke.
"I'm sorry! I overslept, and now you'll be late!" It came out more as a sob than legible words, but I got the gist of it.
I kept my cool and cleared my throat. "Overslept? Don't you think you're being a little too dramatic?"
My voice was calm, meant to control the mood. The gentle inflections of Magnolia's natural voice helped a lot.
The girl gripped my nightgown in desperation as she looked up at me. Her hands trembled a bit, growing teary-eyed as she spoke. "Y-you know your teacher is a monster." She managed to croak it out before breaking into tears.
Fuck me, I grumbled uncomfortably as she cried. I was never good at comforting people. How did it go again?
"Uh…" Awkwardly, I reached out and patted the girl's head softly. "There, there… don't cry."
The girl immediately stopped crying.
'Damn. I'm good at this—'
Then the girl erupted into tears again.
'Never mind…'
Though she did let go of my nightgown, hopping to her feet and dusting off her dress.
"You're so kind to me," she said, sniffling and wiping her face, calming down some. "But we really are going to die." She chuckled, her eyes red and despondent.
Was Magnolia's teacher that much of a monster? Look how traumatized this poor girl was. And I guessed I was meeting that teacher soon, because this maid said something about being late.
Crap. I'd have to interact with a person.
I let out a slow breath. I probably should've been worried, but at this point, who gave a shit? I sure didn't. Though my body didn't get the memo, as knots of anxiety curled and wound in my stomach.
"I'll be quick! I won't let you be tardy… much," the girl said, cracking her knuckles, a look of determination overtaking her crying face.
"Wai—"
I barely had time to blink before I felt a sudden breeze where a breeze should not have been.
I looked down at my body. Oh wow, less curvaceous than my previous one, but overall nic—
Why was I naked?
My nightgown was gone.
My body was bare as the day my momma birthed me.
I instinctively covered myself with my hands, as one does, my face heating up.
My eyes shot up to look at the maid, who stood there in front of me, my fucking nightgown clutched in her fists.
'What the fu—'
…
What happened next was thoroughly disorienting.
Before I could protest, I was dragged into the luxurious bathing room, an aroma of sweetness hitting me in the face as I entered.
'Right, right… Magnolia was a noble. Of course she'd be bathed. No need to freak out,' I reassured myself.
Except I was freaking out—internally, of course. I wouldn't blow my cover.
I was like a deer in headlights as the maid manipulated my body around the room. Not literally. I just complied with everything she did. Went where she led me. Did as she asked. I found myself sitting on a stool, staring blankly at the claw-footed tub before me.
The way to describe this feeling? Like an invasion. A loss of control. I had never let anybody see me naked in my previous life, so for it to happen so suddenly was… overwhelming.
The odd thing was that my mind was in distress, but my body was as relaxed as ever, as if used to it. A jarring disconnect between the two aspects of being.
Her hand on my shoulder suddenly snapped me out of my dissociation, and my eyes focused on her. Her face. Her small voice asking, "Are you okay?"
I suddenly felt calmer. I took a breath.
"I'm fine," I said. And I was fine.
She gave me a curt nod and went back to work.
I looked down at my body, still a bit uncomfortable but easing up. She then proceeded to touch the claw-footed tub, and water slowly bubbled up from the bottom as if appearing out of thin air.
It was then that I noticed the energy pulsing at her fingertips. I realized instantly she was infusing the tub with some of her own aether.
A faint circuit-like design stemmed from where her fingers touched the porcelain, fading as it went outward, but I could clearly see its path.
Aether poured out in a controlled stream, flowing into the etched rivers or veins of the object—the object being the tub—and as a result, a reaction was created. That reaction being the bubbling water.
Once the tub was adequately filled, she removed her hand, and the water stopped rising, rippling gently in the tub.
"Fucking magical," I blurted.
That earned me a gasping look from the maid. My hands shot up to my mouth as if I hadn't already said it out loud. Useless behavior.
The maid, in a rush, unceremoniously picked me up and dumped me into the bath as if I couldn't do it on my own.
What surprised me was the sheer strength she had. Sure, Magnolia's build was petite, but how could this little girl lift me with no effort at all? Not even a huff.
From then on, it was a maelstrom of scrubbing and rinsing and—
'Instant dry towel?'
A magical little gadget. Have your maid wrap it around your damp hair and pouf, in a puff of steam, instantly dried hair, smooth as silk too. Aether supply sold separately, but having a maid who could control her own flow was handy—wait, why am I doing an ad?
Anyway, it seemed that aether was an everyday household utility from what I'd observed. If they used it in the bath, there was no telling what other uses it saw.
And what about the aurora ceiling lights in the bedroom? How did they hold light like that? Did they circulate aether in a loop? Wouldn't it be used up quickly, assuming the light drew energy from the aether?
If that was the case, then was there some kind of aether battery?
Was aether like electricity?
Well, I didn't think it was quite like electricity, considering running an electric current through a bathtub doesn't magically generate matter from nothing, like the water that came out of nowhere earlier.
If so, was the circuit I kept seeing when focusing on the aether flow some kind of magical configuration that achieved a predetermined effect when infused with aether?
Like the configuration inside the bathtub generated water, and all those complicated circuit-like paths fine-tuned the effect, deciding the temperature and how bubbly it'd be.
Programmed magic? It sounded kind of boring. Maybe there was a raw form of it. I'd have to see.
The mask didn't seem to have aether circuits, just raw malice.
I was absentmindedly fiddling with the cool wooden ring on my pinky.
I felt like a genius, deducing all this stuff, before a sudden constriction in my lower midsection snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Oh, sorry," the maid said, looking at me apologetically.
Her remorseful eyes won me over instantly, and I relaxed. She was currently attempting to fit a corset onto me.
While I was lost in thought, she had worked so quickly and efficiently that I'd totally tuned it out. She had bathed me, groomed me, applied light makeup, and was now layering on pieces of an elegant gown.
She loosened the corset a bit, and I could breathe again. It was actually quite comfortable and pushed up my chest, though there wasn't much to push up anyway.
It outlined my figure as well, making me look snatched, so that was a plus.
Then the corset cover, two layers of petticoats for a fuller figure, stockings and garters secured my legs before the main event.
A breathtaking mint-green gown.
High neckline. Long sleeves. A fitted bodice and a voluminous skirt that cascaded like flowing water.
All these fabrics landed on me with the softness of a feather. Then came the tight constriction as the maid fastened them in place, and then, slowly, my body relaxed.
The layers hugged me, holding me together.
It was… comforting.
Like being secured in a room that wasn't mine, attended by a personal maid who was a complete stranger, while I resided in the stolen body of a dead girl.
Brushing off the melancholy, the maid held up two pairs of shoes.
"Buttoned boots or heeled slippers today?" she asked.
I smiled, as regal a smile as I could muster, and said, "Buttoned boots, please."
I felt that please really sold my nobility, don't you think?
The maid then presented me with a pair of gloves, and my heart did a little pitter-patter.
Don't ask me why, but gloves had always been a fantasy of mine. They looked so regal and chic, and I had to stop myself from squealing with glee.
I took them eagerly, sliding the smooth fabric over my hands.
More than just an elegant finishing touch, they served an important purpose.
Hiding that godforsaken ring.
I wasn't going to leave it lying around in a household where even the maids could infuse aether into things. What if someone accidentally awakened it? Oh, the horror.
Was I suspicious of why it suddenly decided to make things easy for me? Yes.
Did I want to waste more time worrying about it? Fuck no.
I was sure the maid had noticed it during the bath and dressing, but she didn't question it. I guessed they were trained not to question their master.
Was I her master?
I mean, I was all for some power play as much as the next gal, on some Armand-and-Louis shit, but it felt weird and uncomfortable seeing as this was a working relationship.
I liked being "her lady" more.
Yes. I was her lady.
All that to say… the gloves were perfect.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt… beautiful.
Magnolia truly was gorgeous, and this ensemble only highlighted what was already apparent. The rich fabric of the gown, the delicate lace, the way everything fit so perfectly.
It was like stepping out of a portrait.
The maid not so subtly cleared her throat, seeing me entrapped by my own reflection.
"We're running late. Your master is gonna murder me," she said as politely as she could, though some edge still leaked into her tone.
She didn't look as fragile as before. More like she was on the edge of cussing me out while I hovered by the mirror instead of rushing.
I sighed.
Did I really want to meet this master of mine? They didn't seem pleasant, from what I could deduce, and from the small fact that this maid kept saying she might get murdered.
What to do, what to do…
I thought for a second before straightening my posture and saying elegantly, "Very well. Lead the way."
I said that for two reasons.
One, because I had no idea where I was supposed to meet this master, and saying lead the way seemed like a natural, dignified way of saying, please show me before I embarrass myself by getting lost in my own fucking house.
And two… well, it felt like something a noble would say.
I was quite proud of it, too.
What I didn't expect was the maid picking me up like a sack of rice and bolting out the door like a lunatic speedster. Or a crackhead. Same difference.
Just like that, I was off to meet the master.
Whoever that was.