Morning sunlight spilled into the room, striking Straw's eyes. She groaned softly and raised a hand to shield herself as she slowly opened them. The light felt too bright, too warm, like it did not belong to her at all.
'Where am I?'
The thought surfaced before she could stop it, drifting through her mind like fog. Her body felt heavy, limbs slow as if she had slept far longer than she should have. Her head throbbed faintly, not painful, just enough to remind her that last night had been very real.
She pushed herself upright, the unfamiliar bed sheets slipping down her arms. The fabric was smooth, softer than anything she remembered owning. It whispered as it moved, brushing against her skin in a way that made her pause. As she sat up, her gaze wandered around the room, slowly at first, lazily, and then it stopped. She froze.
The room was luxurious. Elegant furniture lined the walls, polished wood gleaming in the sunlight. Silk curtains swayed gently by the tall windows, letting the breeze in. The floor shone so brightly she could see her reflection in it if she looked hard enough. Everything smelled clean, expensive, untouched. This was no place for a maid.
Straw frowned, her brows knitting together as she tried to remember how she had ended up here. Her memories felt scattered, pieces of the night floating out of reach. Last night, she had planned to escape the party before the Duke, her brother, noticed her.
But she had been distracted by food. As always. Food had always been her weakness. She ate whatever came her way, sweet or salty, rich or plain. Sometimes she wondered how she never gained weight at all. Even her girlfriend, Cassie, used to tease her about it. Cassie always laughed and said Andrea would explode one day from eating too much, her stomach finally giving up on her.
The memory of Cassie made something in Straw's chest tighten. Thinking of Cassie darkened her mood instantly, like a shadow passing over the sun. Last night, half drunk, she had kissed someone who was not Cassie. The realization came back in full force, sharp and uncomfortable. And worse than that, she had liked it. One kiss. That was all it took.
Straw pressed her lips together, feeling guilt twist painfully in her chest. It sat there, heavy and warm, refusing to move. She could still remember the feeling of lips against hers, the closeness, the way her thoughts had gone quiet for just a moment.
The maid had already left. Straw vaguely remembered seeing her slip out early in the morning. She had been too exhausted to ask where the maid was heading. Probably morning chores, Straw thought distantly. The kind of work that started before the sun fully rose.
Just as Straw's thoughts drifted back to her very questionable night, the door burst open.
There was no knock, just the sudden sound of wood slamming against the wall.
"Little sister, you're awake. Let's open my birthday presents together."
A cheerful young man dressed in extravagant clothing dashed in like an excited child, his steps quick and careless. His clothes were bright, detailed, far too grand for someone acting like this. He moved with ease, as if the room was his. Then he stopped.
His eyes landed on Straw, still sitting on the bed, sheets tangled around her legs.
"Hey. Don't you know how to fucking knock?" Straw snapped without thinking.
The words left her mouth sharp and fast. The moment they did, the air in the room shifted.
His expression hardened instantly. The cheer vanished as if it had never been there. "You are not my little sister. Where is my sister?"
"I ate her."
The answer came easily, sarcasm spilling out before Straw could stop herself.
"What?"
"I don't know who your little sister is, sir," Straw said calmly, forcing her tone steady. "Please leave this room. I need to dress so I can continue my escape."
"How dare you speak to me in such a manner." His voice dropped, becoming sharp and authoritative.
Straw finally really looked at him. Not just his face, but his clothes, his posture, the way he stood like the room bowed to him. His clothes were not just expensive. They were exceptional. Similar to the Duke's style, but far more refined, more commanding.
"And who are you supposed to be?" she asked. "A duke? A prince? A viscount? What, who?"
"Guess again."
"Just tell me who the fuck you are," Straw muttered, scratching her head while scanning the room for her gown. Her heart beat a little faster now. "I'm not in the mood for a guessing game."
"I am the king of this nation," he said coldly. "And you are currently sitting on my little sister's bed. I have no idea why she would allow a mere low noble into her chambers. I thought I was the only one with the right to enter."
Straw froze.
The world seemed to pause around her. For a moment, she stopped everything she was doing, fingers still tangled in the bedsheet. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding violently. Was this young man telling the truth. Was he really the king.
Her breath felt shallow. The room suddenly felt much smaller.
So many thoughts collided in her head that she could not decide what to believe. Fear, disbelief, confusion all tangled together. Still, she had to ask, just to be sure.
"Are you sure you know what you're saying?" she asked cautiously. "You're the king of this what now?"
He frowned. "I will be the one asking questions. Who are you, and what are you doing in my little sister's room?"
"S-Straw," she replied hesitantly. "I guess. And if what you're saying is true, that you're the king and this is your sister's room, then first, I'm sorry. Second, I was lured here. Probably by one of your maids. We kind of, well, you know." She cleared her throat, heat creeping up her neck. "But please don't punish her. She's too beautiful to deserve that."
Straw stood up slowly, movements careful, clutching the bedsheet around herself. Only then did she notice her gown neatly folded beside the bed. The sight of it made her swallow. She grabbed it quickly, holding it against her chest, then glanced at the king again.
Even now, part of her could not believe it. How was it possible that she was in the royal mansion. Worse, inside the princess's room. That maid must have been incredibly close to the princess to bring someone here without fear of being punished, or killed.
"Mr. King," Straw said carefully, "I know you'll probably punish me for committing treason, but please let me put on my dress first."
The king stared at her for a long moment. His eyes were unreadable, sharp and cold. Then, without saying a word, he turned and left the room.
The door closed behind him. That was easy.
The thought slipped through her mind before she could stop it. Straw exhaled shakily in relief as she watched the door, half expecting him to return at any second.
She dressed quickly, fingers trembling as she pulled the fabric over herself. Every sound made her tense. When she finished, she stood before the door, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She touched it, pulled back, then touched it again.
What would happen once she opened the door.
It had not even been twenty four hours since she reincarnated into this world, and she was already in trouble. Her chest felt tight as the weight of it settled in.
If only she had left the party earlier.
If only she had not gone to the food table.
If only she had not talked to the maid.
If only the maid had not kissed her.
And if only she had not been the one to suggest going further. And now here she was. Not just any room, the princess's room.
"No," Straw muttered, shaking her head. "I refuse to be part of this kind of story. I'm sure of it. I'm not even the main character."
Her eyes drifted to the window. The decision came suddenly, fueled by panic and instinct. She ran.
After climbing out, she scanned her surroundings desperately, heart pounding as she searched for a possible escape route. The palace grounds stretched wide, unfamiliar and dangerous. Before she could move further, voices drifted up from the garden below.
"My princess, I'm sorry. I swear it was the work of the devil. Please give me one last chance. I promise I will."
Straw's breath caught as she looked down.
Before she could even fully process what she was seeing, the kneeling man's head was severed in one clean motion. Blood splattered everywhere.
The headless body collapsed, blood gushing violently, staining the ground. The princess stood motionless, her clothes soaked in red, sword still in hand. Straw's breath caught in her throat. She was frozen in shock.
But when her eyes finally lifted to the blood covered princess, realization hit her like a blade.
"Holy shit," Straw whispered.
"I fucked the princess."