"Wait… you're telling me this is all because of that random gift?!"
My thoughts were spinning as I tried to recall the words of that strange man. He had handed me the box with such a nonchalant smile and said, 'If you want something different, open it.'
Different?
"This isn't just different!" I shouted inside my head. "This is insane! I have a whole new body… a whole new gender! And don't even get me started on the fact that I have no idea if this is even the same time period—or the same planet!"
The weight of that thought hit me like a hammer, and for a moment, I just stood there, frozen.
Then panic surged through me, and I dashed to the nearest window, fumbling with the latch before shoving it open.
What greeted me took my breath away.
Endless cliffs rose like pillars to the sky, each one crowned with emerald trees swaying gently in the wind. A faint mist curled between the peaks, giving the landscape a dreamlike glow. It looked a bit like Meteora in Greece… but not quite. It was… grander. Wilder. Like a scene pulled straight out of a fantasy painting.
"…Yeah. This is definitely not my neighborhood back home," I muttered under my breath.
The wind carried the scent of pine and fresh earth, cool and crisp, like it had never known the word 'pollution.' For a fleeting second, the tranquility calmed my racing heart.
But reality quickly crashed back in.
"Okay, think, Sammy. Step one: figure out what year it is. Step two: figure out whose body you're in. Step three… don't die."
My eyes swept across the room for clues. The furniture was elaborate, the bed massive and covered in silk sheets, the walls lined with paintings and gilded decor. Everything screamed wealth and power.
"Yep… no doubt about it," I sighed. "This body definitely belongs to some rich kid. Only a powerful family could build a mansion this high up on a mountain like this."
Does this kid have a diary? Sammy tilted her head, scanning the room. Classic noble kids usually keep one to document their oh-so-important lives, right? Maybe I can find some juicy clues there…
Her eyes landed on the neatly arranged study table. Bingo. That's gotta be it.
But after rifling through the books—thick tomes on history, mathematics, and who-knows-what—there was no diary in sight. Seriously? Not even a single embarrassing love poem? What kind of noble kid doesn't keep a diary?
Before she could complain any further, a knock came at the door.
"Young Master, I've come to dress you. Your fiancée and her family arrived earlier than expected," said a calm, refined voice—probably the maid.
The door opened, and the maid quickly began preparing a bath with practiced efficiency.
Wait—fiancée?! Hold on. Back up. Since when does this body come with a whole relationship package?!
She wanted to ask a million questions, but… right. She didn't even know this kid's name. Asking would definitely put her in the suspicious weirdo category. For now, she just nodded like she totally knew what was going on.
Soon, she was soaking in the warm bath, the maid fussing over every detail before dressing her in an outfit what could only be described as "Rich Noble Prince Starter Pack."
Okay, wow. This fabric is screaming old money, Sammy thought, tugging at the stiff collar. But this design? Nope. Too boring. Too… 18th-century wallpaper.
Maybe… just maybe… I can revolutionize fashion in this world while I'm at it.
While the maid busied herself with tidying the closet, Sammy's eyes wandered—until something about the wardrobe caught her attention.
Huh? That panel… it looks off. Like it doesn't quite belong.
She leaned slightly, studying the corner with growing interest. It was subtle—almost too subtle—but Sammy knew the signs.
Oh-ho… is that a hidden mechanism?
She smirked to herself. Back in her old life, she had a habit of stashing her valuables in trick spots too. Customized safes, fake bottoms in drawers—anything to keep nosy people from finding her stuff.
So that's how it is, huh? Maybe that's where this kid hides his diary… or his deepest, darkest secrets.
Her fingers itched to investigate, but the maid was still there, folding clothes like nothing had happened. Sammy sighed inwardly.
Guess it'll have to wait. For now, I have to meet this so-called fiancée. Priorities, Sammy. Priorities.
Sammy took one last glance at the suspicious wardrobe panel before the maid gave a slight bow, signaling it was time to go.
Fine, fine. Secret diary raid later. For now... let's go meet the mystery fiancée.
She exited the bedroom, the door closing softly behind her. The hallway stretched long and grand, bathed in the glow of golden sunlight filtering through tall windows. Velvet carpets muffled her footsteps as she passed rows of ancestral portraits—every single one of them staring down with the same striking silver hair, a trademark of the Deveraux family for generations.
Wow… even the paintings are judging me. Relax, I'm technically family now… probably.
At the end of the hallway, the towering staircase spiraled downward toward the grand entry hall were the ones she assumed were her new family. Father, looking dignified with his sharp suit and neatly combed hair, stood waiting with an air of quiet authority, his silver hair shining like polished moonlight. Beside him, her mother radiated elegance with the same unmistakable silver locks, while a younger girl—her supposed sister—peeked shyly from behind her father's arm, silver strands framing curious eyes.
Sammy descended the staircase with all the grace she could muster in her overly formal clothes. "Good afternoon," Sammy said politely, bowing ever so slightly.
The entire family froze for a fraction of a second.
…What? Was that too polite? Sammy wondered. What did this brat usually do, grunt and walk past them?
But before anyone could comment, the heavy doors creaked open.
A grand carriage rolled into the courtyard, black lacquer gleaming under the sun, the emblem of the Marquis family etched in gold on its side.
The butler stepped forward, his voice ringing through the hall.
"Welcome to the Deveraux Castle, Marquis."
From the carriage descended the Marquis himself—a tall, imposing man with dark velvet hair that caught the light like silk. He gave a noble bow toward the Duke. "It has been a while, Duke."
His wife followed, graceful and refined, her long velvet-colored hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of wine. And then came the daughter.
Sammy tilted her head.
The girl was maybe twelve or thirteen, her velvet hair flowing softly in the breeze, eyes the color of polished amber. She moved with the quiet grace of someone raised in a world of etiquette and finery, her delicate features framed by the sun's glow.
Okay… she's pretty, Sammy admitted grudgingly. But at her age? Sorry, sweetheart, I was prettier. Like, world-class idol prettier.
The Marquis family bowed in perfect unison at the grand entrance, the trio of velvet-haired nobles a striking contrast against our silver-haired Deveraux line standing before them.
Father—the Duke—welcomed them with his usual dignified composure, his silver hair gleaming in the afternoon sun. The Marquis, equally refined but marked by that deep velvet hair of his house, returned the greeting before the two noblemen disappeared inside together, clearly heading off for some serious political talk only adults cared about.
Before he left, Father glanced back at me. "Lucius, show Lady Aurelia our garden."
So that's her name, I thought, committing it to memory. Lady Aurelia. Elegant. Classy. Very noble romance novel material.
Mother and the Marquis's wife exchanged polite smiles before strolling toward the courtyard for their own conversation. My younger sister, after sneaking one last curious glance at Lady Aurelia, decided this entire event wasn't worth her time and slipped back to her room.
And just like that… everyone scattered.
Leaving just me.
And her.
I turned, ready to play the part of the perfect gentleman, only to be met with a look sharp enough to slice through solid steel.
Lady Aurelia stood there, posture flawless, her long velvet hair shimmering softly in the breeze… while giving me the kind of what-a-waste-of-time glare usually reserved for incompetent servants.
Whoa, okay. What's with the attitude? I blinked. Did I already commit some kind of high-society crime? I literally haven't even said hello yet!