Healing helped, but I was still groggy and nauseated, feeling as if I were dead drunk.

I struggled to maintain my balance while removing my boots, staring dumbly at those boots. Cala's boots!

The inconsistency of wearing my pajamas over Cala's leather pants puzzled my foggy mind, but I urgently needed to get rid of those pants. They were much too narrow and uncomfortable.

With a considerable effort, I undressed, finally feeling relief once both sets of pants were off.

Why and how the hell did I end up spelling these boots and trousers? I examined them again, thoroughly confused. Were these things even real? How was this possible?

I looked at Cala's face in the mirror, taking note of her scars. I seemed to have messed things up royally now!

Addressing my own reflection, looking into those grey eyes, I spoke aloud to my alter ego as if accusing myself:

"You did this on purpose, didn't you!?"

However, it wasn't my voice that responded. Instead, someone else spoke.

"Dolores dear, are you okay? Dolores?"

Oh, fuck! Mrs. Robertson was at the door. The girls probably informed her about my vomiting.

A voice echoed in my mind: "Let me lead!"

I sighed. Certainly not! I was feeling frustrated, tired, angry, and frankly, I didn't care anymore. What could I do now with this face? I was already in deep shit!

"You did this on purpose!" I exclaimed once again, leaning against the mirror, almost breaking it.

How could I explain that it was still me behind those grey eyes? Who would believe me?

"Dolores dear? Who are you talking to?" Mrs. Robertson's concerned voice came from outside.

"No! How can you think that of me? Let me fix this quickly before she comes in!" Flo urged.

"You've messed things up! How could this happen? How can I live with this face?" I lamented.

Her response, delivered with confidence, caught me off guard. "This is not a problem; trust me, I can fix it."

Trust me, I can fix it. Yeah, right - trust me, I can fix it - the most outrageous phrase of the year! But what other choice did I have?

“Dolores dear, answer me!?” Mrs. Robertson's voice persisted.

I snorted. This was precisely what I didn't want—more pressure and close examination.

“I'm just not feeling okay, Mrs. Robertson!” I replied, hoping this would satisfy her curiosity.

She responded with a determined voice.

“I'm coming in, dear!”

She tried to open the door, but I resisted, pushing back. It was surprisingly easy. I almost didn't feel her pressure. Cala's muscles. Were those real?

“Dolores, don't be a child; let me in. I'm worried, dear; I need to see you!” she pleaded.

My alter ego insisted: “Let me lead, you fool!”

Finally, with a sigh, I let Flo take charge. She adjusted my face to resemble 'Dolores with her wounds'.

It was astonishing to witness how my features in the mirror transformed; the color of my eyes reverted to blue from Cala's steely gray, and her black hair morphed into a chestnut shade in an instant, as if I were customizing my avatar in a video game.

Flo watched my face in the mirror with a satisfied grin, still holding the door with one hand. In any case, Mrs. Robertson wasn't pushing hard.

Now, she moved away, freeing the door. The next moment, Mrs. Robertson opened it a crack and looked at me.

“May I come in? Do you have a fever, dear?”

Flo opened the door wider.

“I was not feeling well, but I am better now.”

“You cannot be OK, dear; you look so pale!”

I guess Flo did make me look too realistic!

She raised a hand towards my forehead, and Flo moved my head slightly to make sure she did not hit my damaged brow. Actually, the wound from the fire still on my forehead justified her movement.

I watched myself in the mirror. I was still flabbergasted by the transformation I'd seen: I looked like me, like Dolores!

How did Flo do this in an instant? What will happen when Mrs. Robertson touches me? Was her hand on my brow enough to cancel the illusion?

“But yes, you do have a fever, dear. You need to go to bed and rest. Should I call a doctor?”

I shook my head.

“No, no, not needed. I feel already better. It was just a wave of nausea that passed now. I'll wash that and go back to bed.”

“OK, dear, OK.”

I saw her preparing a bucket to clean the disaster I had made in my room. “Please, no, I'll do that myself!”

“Nonsense, dear, you are ill!” - she replied.

Well, I take my hat off to you, Mrs. Robertson.

As soon as she left, Flo undressed my panties and dispelled my t-shirt. Only now did I realize I was wearing Cala's illusionary t-shirt.

She went under the shower. I love the feeling of water running down my skin. It has a pleasant, calming effect on me.

While Flo did some kind of meditation under the shower, I tried to put my thoughts in order. Now that the first shock had passed... I always felt good being Cala. It is like tasting the forbidden fruit. Even if my alter ego made it, it might have done it because, in reality, I secretly wanted it to happen. I dreamed about being Cala. Even this 'damaged' Cala, as she is. I can hide that damage, and I can enjoy her power. Because I feel I have her power. I have her coordination. I can feel it. Yes, I know I need to test it, but I feel it as I felt it in the game. I recognize the feeling.

I watched my lithe silhouette in the mirror.

I'm a little taller now, but Mrs. Robertson did not realize it. I don't have the belly that Dolores had. It was not big, but it was there. Cala's belly is perfectly flat.

My bosom is still rather small than medium as it always was, but it is somehow cheekier.

My whole body looks trained, and it feels that way. My back is no longer bent down. My shoulders are straight.

I washed my naked shoulders, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Flo's camouflage was perfect. Water flows on my skin, and I look at Dolores, a better Dolores, but I cannot see any flaw. Nobody can say I am not Dolores. I move differently. Firmer and more efficient. Will this be a problem? I hope not. That calmed me a little bit.

Flo wrapped me in a big bath towel, and I got out of the bathroom. Mrs. Robertson was just coming out of my room.

“I'm finished here. I changed your bedding, and I made some fresh tea. Do you think you can drink some?”

“You guessed my thoughts, Mrs. Robertson. Very kind of you; yes, I'd like to drink a cup.”

I like how polite Flo is. It is always a boon to let her talk to the Robertsons, but I don't think she expected Flo to go directly to the kitchen to drink that tea. Anyhow, she followed shortly and offered me the tea.

The girls were not there; only Mr. Robertson was in the living room. I sat on a chair and got my teacup. The nausea was gone; that healing did really save me. I was feeling a little bit amused and curious. At first, I was confused by those feelings, but then I realized that they came from Cala.

I was happy and congratulated myself that at least my brain did not explode after Flo's new experiment, as it had happened to Cala before. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and filled my lungs, then I opened them and grinned at Mrs. Robertson. She smiled at me:

“I see you are feeling better!”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

My brain sensed something strange. This very small interaction, the way I moved, it was totally how Cala moves. How comes?

“Is now Cala in the lead?”

“Ahm, I thought it was you... I think it is Cala.”

I think it is Cala? I was confused. Do we have now a threesome? Not even in the game did Cala have priority over me. What is happening here? How can Cala know people here and act... OK, in the game, I have her memory; if this works the same, she knows everything...

“Could you eat something? It is past lunchtime, but...”

Oh fuck. The look Cala gave her! She answered.

“Ilon asotara!”

What did she say? I heard White Flower:

“That's Denik; speak English!”

“Ow. I'm starving!”

Oh yes, we had been in the denik speaking area. You can learn a language from scrolls, which most people do, or you can use an interpreter. If you learn it from scrolls, it can be so perfect that you do not even realize you speak a foreign language; your avatar translates it seamlessly into your brain.

It was not so perfect before. In previous game versions, it was just a trick: you heard some babble, and the interpreter translated into what you should have heard. Everybody spoke English to you when you bought the scroll and spoke directly English to them.

Now it seems they did the work to put it out there completely, inclusive the language? When? How could they do that?

What additionally shocked me was that I did not realize it until now. This is a level of brain manipulation equal to or above what I saw in those matrix films. And they put this in a game? This would revolutionize the whole translation business instantly: you take an avatar and can speak any language you want? Wow! Chinese, Japanese, German, Russian. Everything!

Thinking about this, I almost missed the follow-up conversation.

Mrs Robertson looked inquiringly at me.

“Do you think you could eat something?”

“Oh yeah, sausages. Do we have any?”

“Ah? I could make some... but are you sure?”

Cala nodded, stood up and went for the fridge. She opened it.

“Of course and... beer. Oh! This sounds good! I'm happy!”

Mrs Robertson watched me for a moment, surprised. Mr Robertson entered just at this moment and saw the beer bottle in my hand. He spoke dismissively:

“Kid! No alcohol for you!”

He tried to take the bottle from Cala's hand. He struggled for a while whilst Cala watched him amused, giggling.

He gave up, looking weirdly at me and tried with negotiations:

“Kid, give it to me!”

Cala shrugged and sat back on her chair with the bottle in her hand. She uncorked the beer with her fingers. Mrs Robertson had watched our struggle for a while whilst putting some sausages into a pan. She said nothing. Cala sipped, sighed and asked him:

“Please tell me honestly, when you would really feel the need to drink a beer in your kitchen and somebody would come to remove it from your hand, what would you do?”

He watched, unsure:

“That's different?”

“Different? Because?”

“Because you are ill!”

Cala shrugged.

“And if you were ill? Just the same situation? Do I take any medication that would forbid a beer? No.”

“You are a kid!”

“Really? I am at least as tall as you are? And as we've seen stronger...”

I would facepalm if I could. He gave me a strange look.

“I am twice your age!”

“Really? You look younger to me. Speaking of this, Mr Robertson, do you play backgammon?”

He was taken aback by her question, yet he answered hesitatingly:

“Ahm? Yes, I do, but what does that...”

I know he is a passionate player. He used to play with dad and drink a beer together. If I know this, Cala knows it, but why?...

“Why don't we play a couple of games and continue the conversation in front of a board? With possibly some sausages as accompaniment for the beer?”

“Do you play backgammon? Do you know the game?”

Cala shrugged.

“Sure”

The memory of her playing with soldiers and mercenaries came to my mind, but she did not add that. Our characters play backgammon in the game when we are off? And she treats him as she would treat a merc?

He watched me hesitatingly, not sure if I was mocking him, but at her sombre expression, he nodded:

“OK, I'll bring the board. I'll teach you some...”

She yelled happy behind him as he left:

“I want to see that!”

After he left, I saw Mrs Robertson smiling at me.

“Do you think these sausages would be enough?”

Cala looked at the pan.

“Oh, lovely little ones! At least double if Mr Robertson is also hungry.”

Mrs Robertson gave me another look.

“Are you sure your stomach is OK?”

Cala grinned.

“That I guarantee.”

Mrs Robertson laughed and prepared another pan. Fuck, Cala has a Cala hunger. What do I do? She will ruin me!

“Why does she not listen to anything I say?”

“She does not hear you; she can hear only me.”

She cannot hear me; she can hear only Flo? What is this for a fuck-up?

“When will she give me the lead?”

“She says you should not worry. She will give you the lead as soon as she is full.”

“Why did you give it to her?”

“I thought I was giving it to you, sorry.”

Mr Robertson appeared with a backgammon board under his arm. He set the board on the table, and they started to play. I've never played this or other board game, but it seems Cala did play a lot. She let him win the first time and beat him two times.

It was a surreal scene. Me and Mr Robertson? Playing backgammon? Me? The dice flew, and they made the movements expertly, talking and joking.

She'd already scarfed eight sausages and drank two beers when she won the second game. Mr Robertson had eaten two and one beer. He was now struggling at his second.

Mrs Robertson was watching me with a worried look.

The bell rang, and Mrs Robertson went for the door. As she came back, she looked inquiringly at me:

“A young man wants to see you.”

Cala licked her fingers happily, turned her head and looked through the cracked open door.

“Matt!” - she raised her hand with a bottle in it - “Do you want a beer?”

She stood up and grinned:

“Good games, Mr Robertson; we should redo this when you have time and Mrs Robertson, I love you! Thank you for the sausages!”

“A pleasure Dolores. Maybe you should not drink any more beer?”

Cala made a sad face and sighed:

“If you say so. OK, I will finish this and no more then.”

I heard Mr Robertson grumbling:

“Why does she listen to you?”

When Cala entered the living room to greet Matt, Mrs Robertson came behind me and pulled on my towel.

“Lady, you are not going to stay like this?”

Cala turned to her and rolled her eyes.

“True. Who greets somebody in a bath towel? I'll remove the towel.”

And she opened the towel. Well, she was with the back to Matt, and she only unbound it, then laughed at Mrs Robertson's shocked face and ran into my room yelling.

“I'll be right back, Matt!”

I heard Mrs Robertson laughing behind me.

Fifteen seconds later, I had panties and leather trousers on.

“Cala asks if you want the lead?”

“Matt is your friend. Let her do her worst.”

“Then I'll take the lead. He is my friend!”

Oh, fuck! Hopefully, Cala will not find her own prince charming! I have enough trouble with Flo.

Flo conjured a blouse on me, and I was back in the living room.