Chapter 1: Living a Second Life
The twenty-one-year-old college student had been locked in an agonizing, soul-crushing battle against her final graduation project for daysโand nights. Mostly nights. At this point, Rea Smith wasnโt even sure when she had last slept like a functional human being, or what natural sunlight even felt like.
Her cluttered desk had turned into a literal battleground. Her laptop, burning hot against the wood, was her only companion. A small army of empty coffee cups and half-empty energy drink cans formed a fortress around her mousepad, and every single glance at the blinding white screen sent a sharp, agonizing burn right behind her eyelids.
Just a little longer, Rea chanted in her mind like a desperate mantra, tapping furiously away at the keyboard. Just until this section is cited. Just until the project is turned in. Just until graduation. Then I can sleep for three days straight.
She had survived midterms, endless all-nighters, and brutal group projects. She could survive this. She had to.
But somewhere in the quiet, suffocating hours of another sleepless 3:00 AM, her body finally decided it had reached its absolute limit.
It started with a subtle tremor in her fingers. The keys began to blur together into an unreadable mess. Then, out of nowhere, her chest caved in as her heart slammed against her ribs with terrifying forceโthump, thump, thump. It felt less like a beat and more like a panicked bird trying to break free from a cage.
โWhatโฆ?โ
Rea tried to inhale, but her lungs refused to expand. Her breath hitched, catching painfully in her throat as cold sweat slicked her palms. Her vision began to tunnel, swallowed by dark, shimmering spots. Desperate to keep herself anchored, her hands reached out, her nails digging hard into the hard wooden lip of her desk.
Maybeโฆ I really should have taken a restโฆ
That was Rea Smithโs last coherent thought before the floor beneath her vanished, the world tilted ninety degrees, and she plunged headfirst into complete, heavy blackness.
When her consciousness slowly drifted back to the surface, the very first thing she registered was an overwhelming, almost absurd level of comfort.
Rea blinked. Her eyelids felt heavy, but there was no burning pain. No blinding blue light from a laptop screen. No stale smell of cold, leftover coffee. Instead, her body felt lighter, as if she were floating, sinking deep into a cloud-like mattress draped in smooth silk.
...What? Did someone throw me on the dorm couch?
She slowly cracked her eyes open, expecting to see her room's cracked plaster ceiling or her roommate's messy pile of laundry. Instead, a towering, grand canopy covered in delicate lace and deep velvet embroidery stretched high above her.
She blinked once. Twice.
The air smelled faintly of lavender and fresh linenโexpensive linen. The space around her was dead silent, save for the soft rustle of heavy drapes blowing in a gentle breeze.
Confused, Rea tried to push herself up. As she shifted her body, a tiny, high-pitched squeak escaped her lips.
โ...Huh?โ
She clapped a hand over her mouth, but the sound had come directly from her throat. Her voice sounded wrong. Unbelievably small. Squeaky. Like a cartoon mouse.
Panicking, Rea lowered her hand and looked down. She froze.
Where her calloused, coffee-stained hands were supposed to be, there sat two tiny, porcelain-pale hands. Delicate little fingers, neat rounded nails, and chubby wrists attached to tiny, slender arms clad in an overly ruffled white sleeve.
She stared at them. Then she stared some more, her adult brain utterly refusing to process the incoming visual data.
No. No way. This is a dream. A weird, sleep-deprived hallucination.
She willed her right hand to raise its index finger. The tiny finger twitched upward. She flexed her palm. The tiny hand closed into a little fist.
โWHAT?!โ
Rea shot out of the bed so fast the heavy, silk-embroidered duvet tumbled onto the floor in a heap. Her tiny heart thudded wildly against her chest as her eyes darted frantically around the room.
It didn't look like a dorm room. It didn't look like any apartment, hospital, or house she had ever seen. The room looked like the set of a multi-million-dollar historical period drama. A massive king-sized bed stood centered against a mahogany wall, carved with intricate floral patterns. Tall, gilded mirrors, antique wooden wardrobes, and crystal chandeliers decorated the space. Everything in sight practically screamed wealth, history, and pure luxury.
And then, across the glossy polished hardwood floor, she spotted it: a tall, gold-framed full-length mirror.
Her tiny, short legs practically ran on instinct before her brain could catch up. She sprinted across the cold floor and skidded to a halt in front of the glass, gasping as her reflection slammed into view.
A little girl was staring back at her in equal terror.
She had long, silk-like midnight-black hair that reached down to her waist, framed by neat, straight bangs. Deep, dark eyes like obsidian pool ink blinked back at her, set against pale, pristine skin without a single flaw. She was tinyโmaybe five years old at mostโand entirely swallowed up by a lavish, lace-trimmed nightgown that looked like it belonged to a Victorian porcelain doll.
Trembling, Rea raised a small hand and touched her left cheek. The girl in the mirror mirrored the movement instantly.
Desperate for proof, she pinched her cheek with all the strength her tiny fingers could muster.
โOw!โ
Pain. Sharp, unmistakable pain.
It was real.
โAAAAAAAAAH!โ
Her high-pitched, childish scream echoed loudly off the high ceilings, shattering the quiet room.
BANG!
The heavy mahogany double doors flew open violently, hitting the wall with a loud thud.
โLady Beatrice!โ
โYoung Lady!โ
โWhat happened?! Are you hurt?!โ
A flurry of frantic maids in crisp black-and-white dresses and servants in uniform rushed into the room, surrounding her in a tidal wave of panicked chatter.
Rea stumbled back toward the mirror, raising her tiny arms defensively. โD-Donโt come closer!โ
The servants froze mid-step, looking utterly bewildered by her reaction. One older maid, whose apron was impeccably starched, dropped down to her knees with a look of intense worry. โLady Beatrice, what is wrong? Did you have a nightmare?โ
โWhere am I?!โ Rea demanded, her squeaky voice cracking from the strain.
โLady Beatrice...?โ
โWho are you people? What is this place?!โ
The maids exchanged terrified, confused looks with one another. Amidst the low, panicked whispers, the same name echoed across the room like a bouncing ball: Lady Beatrice. Miss Beatrice. Young Lady.
Beatrice?
Rea stared at them blankly, her hyperventilating breath slowly coming to a halt as her mind slammed into a brick wall.
Wait. Beatrice? Thatโs not my name! I'm Rea Smith! I'm a twenty-one-year-old college student who was just dying over a stupid thesis paper!
For a terrifying, heart-stopping second, her actual identity felt like a fading memory, swallowed up by the ridiculous reality surrounding her. Her gaze drifted away from the confused maids and landed once more on the full-length mirror.
A five-year-old toddler. A sprawling, ridiculously wealthy estate. A room full of servants calling her a noble title.
It was a setup she knew all too well from her late-night w******l binges.
Reincarnation. Transmigration. The ultimate w******l clichรฉ: an overworked, exhausted modern woman dies of sudden cardiac arrest and wakes up inside a completely different world as a high-society nobleโor worse, the doomed villainess of a romance fantasy novel.
No way, Rea thought, her little jaw dropping open. Did I seriously die of overwork and transmigrate into a w******l?!
The sheer, staggering weight of the realization hit her like a runaway freight train. As the maids continued to crowd around her, asking if she needed water or a doctor, the room began to spin. Her vision blurred, her tiny legs gave out, and her brainโunable to handle the sudden genre shift of her existenceโsimply shut down.
โLady Beatrice?!โ
The last thing she registered before passing out for the second time was the frantic shouting of the maids and a flurry of white aprons rushing toward her as darkness took over once again.
