Chapter 14: “Trapped Between a Collar and a Muzzle”

Celestia von Reingarde stood before the tall mirror of her dressing table, staring at the face reflected there. A pair of sharp, crimson eyes glared back, filled with turmoil. Those eyes were uniquely beautiful, like polished rubies set in porcelain, yet at this moment, she found them utterly repulsive. They were the color of blood.

The memory of this afternoon flashed in her mind: a spray of red across her pale hands, the wet warmth of life spilling out onto cold stone. Her stomach tightened. It wasn’t the gore itself that haunted her; she had never been particularly squeamish. What sickened her to her core was the realization that somewhere deep inside, some part of her had enjoyed it.

“This damned backwater world,” She muttered under her breath, tearing her gaze from the mirror. In frustration, she paced a few steps across the plush carpet of her lavish bedroom.

Moonlight peeked through the half-drawn curtains, illuminating the furnishings that surrounded her: silk draperies, a carved mahogany four-poster bed, gilded lamps. She had been living in the lap of aristocratic luxury for nearly two months now, ever since she awakened as Duke Reingarde’s daughter. Yet none of it brought her comfort tonight.

Yes, she tolerated living in this pre-industrial world of adventurers, knights, and magic, but by god, she missed Modern Earth. She missed the electricity, the glow of a phone screen, the endless stream of entertainment and information at her fingertips. Life here was lavish but stifling, devoid of the conveniences she once took for granted.

Her restless pacing brought her back in front of the mirror. This time, she forced herself to really look. Long golden hair, perfectly brushed, cascaded over her shoulders. Delicate features arranged in an undeniably elegant face. Rosy lips and fine bone structure; it was the kind of beauty that painters would beg to look at.

It was the face of someone born to high society privilege, and every day since she’d woken up in this body, it had grown a little more familiar to her. She had started to see herself in those refined features, started to accept that this was her face now.

Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table as she stared, unblinking, at her reflection.

Why? Why had she given in so easily? And… why had she smiled?

The question pounded in her head, an accusation and the dread all at once. This afternoon, even before the third man’s life bled out at her feet, she had felt something unexpected rising within her. Something thrilling.

The finality of exerting absolute power over another’s existence, of plunging that spear, had ignited a dark spark inside her however briefly. She’d smiled, and it had been real. Even now, recalling the visceral rush of that moment, she felt a shameful heat in her chest.

She clenched her jaw. She had never been a sadistic person, and she had never enjoyed mindless violence. She’d certainly never spilled someone’s blood with her own two hands until today.

“That wasn’t me,” she whispered. “I’m not that kind of person. I’m not…” She pressed a hand over her eyes, as if to blot out both memory and reflection. “I’m not…” she told herself. But doubt gnawed at the words. In the quiet of her room, with midnight approaching, she wasn’t entirely certain who she was anymore.

She drew in a breath and tried to gather herself. “Calm down,” she murmured. “Remember who you are. Remember your life before all this.” She forced herself to think back to the time before she opened her eyes in this world.

She remembered a skyline of a modern city visible through the windows of a high-rise penthouse. She remembered confidently smiling when walking into a room filled with executives falling silent, as her designer heels tapped and tapped on the floor.

She was once the heiress to a major conglomerate. A woman of brains, beauty, and riches. A princess of the corporate world.

A smile tugged at her lips. Yes, she could recall her past life easily. It felt a million miles away, but it was still there, like a hazy dream clinging to the edges of her mind. And yet…

Her eyebrows suddenly furrowed. A chill prickled along her skin. There was something crucial missing. She could picture her previous life’s lifestyle, her attitudes, and even the exact shade of the lipstick she’d favored. But the simplest thing of all, the foundation of her very identity in that world, eluded her.

Her heart began to pound, a cold spike of panic driving through it. “My name is…” She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. The name was on the tip of her tongue, but it refused to surface.

A blankness filled the space where her name should be.

How could she possibly forget her own name? It was absurd, impossible.

That name had once been synonymous with power and privilege, a name known to media and competitors alike.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Her pulse raced.

In her mind, she tried to remember more details: a corporate ID card with her photo, but where her name should be, there was only smudged ink; a newspaper headline praising the daughter of the conglomerate family, but the name was blacked out. Every time she tried to recall it, her past name appeared as a void.

“T-this doesn’t make sense,” she stammered. There was a weight pressing on her chest now, a suffocating anxiety. Her hands, she realized, were shaking.

She gripped the ornate frame of the mirror and leaned in, nearly touching her nose to the cool reflection. “I am… ████████,” she tried to say.

But the sound that came out of her mouth wasn’t a name at all, just a hollow, distorted silence as her lips formed syllables that her mind refused to supply.

A strangled sound of frustration tore from her throat. “My name is ████████!” she cried out, louder this time, almost desperately. Once again, the crucial word refused to appear, leaving only that awful blankness where the letters of her identity should be.

Her head felt like it was spinning. Anger and fear warred inside her, and a red haze crept into the edges of her vision. This world, this treacherous webnovel…

“I won’t let it erase me,” she snarled through gritted teeth. Her hand lashed out, grabbing the first object it found on the dresser-table. Her fingers closed around a delicate glass perfume bottle. Without hesitation, she hurled it at the mirror with all her might.