I answered in an indifferent tone, which sounded natural to me even if I didn't will it to sound like that.
The words came out smooth and perfectly modulated, carrying a note of high-born command and a complete lack of feeling.
It was the same cold indifference I had seen reflected in the mirror, an innate part of this body's presence.
The realization was striking: the previous owner's disposition was baked into the very way I spoke.
The door creaked open immediately, and a small, middle-aged woman dressed in a crisp maid's uniform slipped into the room, her eyes fixed on the floor.
She gave a quick, shallow curtsy, her body language radiating extreme nervousness.
'Right, time to play the part of "Your Highness," whoever that is,' I thought, turning away from the mirror to face her with that same unconsciously aloof expression.
She greeted me a good morning in a voice that was barely a whisper, her eyes still mostly averted.
Then, she quickly added, "Would Your Highness like for the bath to be prepared now?"
I really didn't care and just decided to go with the flow.
Whether I had a bath or not wasn't high on my list of priorities, which currently consisted of 'survive' and 'find out what the hell is going on.'
But a bath sounded comfortable, and resisting such simple requests seemed like unnecessary trouble.
I was really tired of living, but well... I was alive again.
The sheer exhaustion from my previous existence hadn't vanished, but the sudden, shocking reality of being in this new body, this new world, had given me a kind of detached energy.
I wouldn't seek out trouble, but I wouldn't run from comfort either.
Since fate had dropped me into a life of luxury, I might as well enjoy the amenities.
Ah, she was still standing there.
I almost forgot.
The poor woman was frozen in a posture of fearful readiness, clearly waiting for my reply and probably anticipating a complicated, demanding answer.
I then answered the same, saying, "Do it."
The words were clipped and devoid of warmth.
It was the tone of a master speaking to a servant, and judging by the slight.
An immediate drop of her shoulders in relief—or perhaps further fear—it was the response she had been trained to expect from 'His Highness.'
She gave another small, swift curtsy. "Yes, Your Highness. I shall see to it immediately."
And with that, she quickly backed out of the door, closing it softly behind her.
I walked back to the mirror, my light green eyes contemplating the handsome, cold face.
'A bath, a "Your Highness," and terrified servants. Looks like my new life is that of a privileged brat. I can work with that,'
I thought, a small, cynical smirk finally tugging at the corner of my lips, a motion the face didn't seem accustomed to making.
After taking the bath and getting changed, the maid, who had been waiting outside with three others, ushered me into an adjacent room.
It was smaller, clearly meant for private meals, but equally lavish.
I had a luxury breakfast laid out on a polished dark table.
It was a lot for one person.
Plates covered in silver domes, bowls of colorful fruit, a variety of freshly baked bread and pastries, eggs prepared in several ways, and slices of what looked like cured ham and various cheeses.
The table felt crowded with the sheer volume of food.
I couldn't finish this, I was sure. It was a staggering display of excess.
I ate what I could.
I focused on a small portion of the eggs, some bread, and a few grapes.
I didn't know if it was a lot or less than what the original 'His Highness' usually consumed; what was important was I was full.
My stomach, unused to such richness, felt satisfied and warm.
Still, looking at those leftover and untouched dishes, a familiar ache settled deep in my chest.
The waste was unbelievable.
Whole baskets of fresh rolls, pristine towers of fruit, and untouched portions of meat were destined for the bin, or perhaps the servants' quarters, though I doubted it.
In my past life, I couldn't even afford one of this.
Just the aroma of the fresh-baked bread or a single slice of that cured ham would have been a luxury.
Seeing this much food carelessly abandoned twisted something inside me.
'Well, I'm the Highness now. I need to get used to this level of waste, or find a way to stop it,' I thought, my cold exterior momentarily failing to suppress the bitterness of memory.
I quickly rose from the table, unwilling to stare at the remnants of the feast any longer.
I still didn't know anything about this world, especially this body... wait, myself.
I always kept forgetting it was me and that this was reality now.
The face in the mirror, the regal bearing, the sheer height—it was all so foreign, yet it was the only reality I possessed.
My mind kept trying to reject the sensory input, treating this opulent life as a dream or a vivid video game, but the silken feel of the clothes and the satisfying fullness in my stomach argued otherwise.
What I was certain about now was this place.
It seemed like a mansion—a really luxurious and a big one.
The sheer scale was overwhelming.
After breakfast, I had been led through a couple of massive hallways, and every room I glimpsed was decorated with the same level of antique, priceless detail.
The ceilings were impossibly high, the floors were shining marble, and every corner seemed to hold an oil painting or a priceless statue.
This wasn't just a house; it was a fortress of wealth.
Plus, the way they addressed me.
"Your Highness."
I was filthy rich.
Not just rich, but royalty or nobility of some significant standing.
The fear in the maid's voice and the deference shown by the other servants suggested a rank high enough to command respect and dread in equal measure.
'This is a huge advantage,' I thought, a pragmatic part of my mind calculating the benefits.
'Unlimited resources, protection, and a whole staff to take care of things...'
'This second chance isn't just a clean slate; it's a golden ticket.'
I needed to find something to read, a book or a journal, anything that could fill in the blanks about this world.
The name and history of the young man whose life I now occupied.
This body, my new self, was a high-value target, and I couldn't afford to remain ignorant for long.
'Right. Information first. I can't fake being "His Highness" without knowing the basics,' I thought, turning to the nearest maid, a quiet girl who had assisted with my bath.
It would be weird, but I didn't care.
A royal or noble asking a servant to retrieve documents detailing his own life and family history was certainly an odd request, perhaps even suspicious.
But my indifference trumped my need to act normal.
My goal was survival and comfort, and ignorance was the quickest path to failure.
I asked the servant to bring me journals and books about myself and my family details.
I kept my voice flat, maintaining the cold, demanding tone that seemed to come so naturally to this body.
"Retrieve any personal journals or correspondence that pertains to myself from the last year. Also, I require the family's official history, focusing on genealogical and territorial details. Do it quietly."
The maid jumped slightly, likely due to the sudden, direct order. She curtsied deeply, her gaze still avoiding mine.
"Yes, Your Highness. I will send word to the librarian and my supervisor immediately."
I knew it would just be general information, maybe sanitized for official records, but it was enough.
The journals might give me a hint of the previous owner's personality, tastes and histories would ground me in this new world's political and geographical reality.
With my luck, I had probably inherited a stack of political rivals and a very large, target-painted back.
I needed to know the lay of the land before I took my next step.
While the first servant scurried off to deal with my unusual request for personal documents, I decided to solidify my position of power, and frankly, indulge my new circumstances.
The breakfast, despite the small amount I'd consumed, had been genuinely excellent.
I asked the other servants around to bring me refreshments as well.
They were lined up against the wall of the hallway like statues, clearly waiting for their next command.
I motioned toward the nearest one with a flick of my hand.
"Bring me something to drink. Something cool. And a plate of those sweet pastries from the breakfast table."
The servant bowed low, his expression mirroring the same fear as the maid before him, but he immediately set off to obey.
It was delicious.
The food from earlier had been exquisite, prepared with a skill and quality I had never known in my previous life.
The simple act of commanding a servant to bring me treats was intoxicating, a physical manifestation of the power I now held.
'If I have to live, I might as well live like this,' I thought.
Taking a long sip of the cool, sweet juice the servant quickly returned with, the taste bursting with fresh fruit I couldn't even name.
'A life of ease and indulgence. I can get used to this.'