“See? Doesn’t that fit you so much better? You look like the underling that you are.” Seriously? I felt like a donkey as she forced me to carry more and more outfits in bags. At least I could choose one to wear, but it wasn’t like I was given a diverse set of options. It was either the red and black robe, the black and red robe, or an actual suit… with a red shirt.

“Is that supposed to be a good thing?” All these backhanded compliments were probably a part of her plan, which would be a mystery to me until I could research what the rose mark really meant. Finding out who it's typically used on would be my window into her real motives.

“Why of course! I, as the greatest future ruler of this region, shall project such an aura that you will be respected no matter your behaviour as long as you look like my servant.” I didn’t even have the energy to do anything but nod along to her delusion of grandeur.

“Sure. Where are we going now?” Disagreeing with her at this point would be a death sentence, and not because I’d get punished. It’d be because she would think I’m interesting, and worth observing at all times. That would practically end any hope I have to research the mark.

“A restaurant of course. Then my office, where I shall find somewhere for you to sleep. Don’t worry, I already know a restaurant not manned by those unsightly communists. I swear, they’re everywhere these days. It’s all the fault of that damn Silvia in Turkey!” I slumped even more as my tiredness got to me. I thought I was free of politics during the literal post apocalypse, but apparently not.

“Can we talk about anything else?” Her glare struck me like a bullet before she forced herself back to her usual patronising smile, but with an edge of harshness either directed at me, or as a compromise between her rage and rational thoughts.

“I’ll consider it if you say that nicely.” I could feel her teeth grinding on each other as she said that.

“May we please talk about another topic?”

“And to whom are you referring to exactly?” Oh come on! That’s just pedantic. I mean, I should’ve expected it, but it was still just as infuriating as it was before.

“May, you, my owner whose name I don’t know, please allow us to talk about another topic.” Her smile finally lost that edge as I said that.

“That’s perfect! But no. I will talk about whatever I want, and you will pay attention and respond to it or suffer the consequences. Is that understood?” I mentally sighed before nodding. “Good. Name’s Elizabetha, or Elizabeth, or any version of Liz. Now, the only good restaurants are the ones owned by former rich people of your world, or reincarnators that aren’t stupid. The rest are just plagued with the entitlement of paid workers or the aftertaste of knowing your ideological enemy made a dish that your mouth perceived as tasting fine.” I was about to respond to her blatant evilness, but bit my tongue to stop myself. My mission was to free myself, and talking to her went against that. “What are you doing?” Huh?

“What do you mean?” It was her turn to raise her eyebrow.

“You’re awfully silent. I don’t need a diary, I need someone I can bounce my thoughts off of.” I felt the rose mark burn on my neck as the slight pull of the invisible chain around my neck made me unable to not speak my mind.

“W-Why the actual f-fuck… are y-you…” I was holding myself back, but the mark just kept burning hotter and hotter. It felt like the air in my lungs just ignored the walls of its confines, escaping my body, and making everything a blurry haze until I started speaking normally again. “Why the actual fuck are you against paying workers? What backwater were you raised on that you think that’s acceptable?” The chain disappeared, and the air teleported back into my lungs. The people walking along the same street as me and her didn’t even look at me as my real thoughts got let out.

“Hahaha! I like you when you don’t have a filter, Never put one on again.” She turned around to enter a building after finishing her sentence. “Here’s the restaurant. Such a shame they only get this much space for such a rightful organisation.” This was certainly… a restaurant. The purple and gold really didn’t mix well together, but its general Baroque style did make it look royal to someone like me. She threw a satchel full of coins at the person manning the counter, who just nodded without looking to see what coins were even in the satchel. Elizabetha walked through the small corridor that led to the main dining room and rushed past the room and scaled the staircase leading straight to the outside table. I sat down after her, and watched as she duplicated the menu in her hands and teleported it into my hands.

Nothing was now restricting me from going back to my silence, but that would just lead to her making me talk again. I’d just need to–

“So, about your question.” Oh, right. ”It was a very righteous world, where only the strongest ones thrived. Luckily for me, I was extremely strong from years of training at the best academies in the empire. I wouldn’t bore you with my life story right now, but just so you know, I spent my whole life beating people like you into submitting to the empire’s law.” My mark itched after her last remark, and I just backed into my cushioned chair and opened the menu. The food was anything but sophisticated. It was simply gimmicky for a lack of a better word. It was the type of stuff rich people would buy for the ‘experience’.

“Sure seems like you only got into those academies thanks to being rich. You don’t seem like the ‘hard-work’ type.” She just continued smiling as I said that. I finally got to the dessert part of the menu just to see that the milkshakes were missing. What the hell was I supposed to get now?

“Sure, perhaps I didn’t work as hard as a poor peasant who would accomplish more with what I got, but why should that concern me? Possibilities are endless, but my life is singular. Shouldn’t you be concerned about the millions of people who would do better in your position?”

“They wouldn’t.” I held myself back just long enough from speaking as to not interrupt her. I had to find a sweet spot between staying completely silent, and letting my pride dictate what I say.

“And why so, swordsman? You should know that cuteness doesn’t make up for being weaker spiritually.” I barely saw her wink before I tore apart the menu, only to see it disappear and reappear fully intact.

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“Do these people not know how to make a good dessert?! What is this?” I grabbed the menu, flipped to the page I was on, pointed to jelly covered in enough whipped cream to kill a man, and whose dissection almost made me puke after seeing the pork bits in it.

“That’s Jelly. Sorry that it isn’t supremely processed like the foods in your modern era, this one is made using real–”

“None of the matters! It has pork in it, and is covered in cream. If a chef served you bacon and cream, you’d throw it right back in his face.” She scoffed before looking in the direction of the very much still not disappearing sun.

“Ugh, you’re so ungrateful. Chefs find a new, interesting way to serve food, and you throw it back in their face because of its origins.” Oh, right, she might not know of normal gelatin.

“Look, it’s not the jelly that’s the problem, it’s the pork bits–”

“Yea, yea, whatever you’re gonna say to run away from my original question.” I gripped the arms of my chair, then moved them slowly enough to drag out the silence before looking through the menu for something to eat. “The waiter isn’t coming until I make some noise, so quit delaying.” I’d backed myself in a corner by accepting her premise of nature over nurture. It was such an obvious debate that I wasn’t prepared for someone to come in with saying that nature is unironically more important.

“Nobody would’ve done better or worse than me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did do well with the cards I was dealt.” Her mouth opened up for her to speak, but words didn’t come up for a good ten seconds.

“What?” She leaned forward, putting her hand on the table and slightly moving the menu away from her hand.

“If someone was in the same situation as me, they’d be subjected to most of the same things that made me, me. If you were born in my body and lived my life, you’d just be a slightly different version of me.” Her curious stance shifted right back to her usual one as I finished.

“Ha! Normally people lie to make themselves feel more special, you lie to be humble.” She continued chuckling until her hand moved to cover her mouth, and she completely shifted back to her normal smile. Well, ‘normal’ was the wrong word, but you get what I thought. “Or maybe, that makes you feel special in your own little way. You’re just special enough that I can recognise it, but not enough to be leaps and bounds above everyone else you meet. Being the strongest wouldn’t feed your ego since you’d still have to struggle to win. Being humble would feed it because you being oh so generous to everyone below you makes you humble, saying that they’d be the same as you if born in your body. That’s bullshit, and you know it, so why don’t we drop the vei–”

“Nah. I’m still right.” Her smile briefly dropped before coming back without any edge. It was just a pure, real smile.

“So you admit you said it to feed your own ego?”

“That wouldn’t change anything, so it’s not worth talking about.”

“Very well, I’ll enlighten you, little one.” She clasped both her hands together before sliding her elbows on the table and leaning closer towards me. “People are different spiritually. If you pluck someone out of their body and transport them to another, they won’t completely change how they act. A rich person will always succeed no matter their circumstance thanks to their competitive spirit. The hierarchy is there for a reason, and will reinstate itself with the same people in every position even if scrambled by an outside force.” She probably comes from the times of the ‘great man’ theory, so it was not exactly shocking that she would think that.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Her smile widened after I said that. “I-”

“Copying me are you?” She chuckled to herself before waving her hand. “Don’t mind me. Please continue.” She finally grabbed her own menu, shuffling through the pages far too fast to actually be reading them.

“...As I was saying, I am who I am thanks to how I grew up. Every one of my traits can be traced back to something that happened TO me. Like, if you have a curious kid, and you punish them any time they ask a question, they won’t stay curious for long. I would have never been as willful as I am if my parents didn’t insist on sending me to every after school club just so they could have some peace. I would’ve probably just played games all day.”

“That kid would stay curious out of spite, and your ambition wouldn’t have been satiated by anything that wasn’t a physical or mental conquest. Stop trying to explain away the hierarchy. It is there, and it will always be there until the goddess is dead.” God, maybe the communists were right about re-education camps. What are you meant to do to people like this? Debate is far too blunt of a weapon.

“You’re just inexperienced with life.” Her smile vanished in the blink of an eye, as if all her emotions were masks to be swapped out on instants.

“Me? Inexperienced? Who out of us two has lived north of a hundred lifetimes?!” I heard the sound of distant footsteps clashing with her raised voice.

“Ok, sure, you’ve lived a bazillion years. Big deal. I could’ve cooked at a tavern for a trillion years, does that make me a master chef? You do not have experience with anything but being at the top, so you don’t know the indignity of the hierarchy.” I don’t think she even paid attention to the last part. She must’ve been too busy trying to not make my mark burn me to a crisp.

“Why are you using such a nonsensical example?! This is a serious discussion, and as such, you will treat it seriously by only referring to the material world around us.” Seriously?

“You act like a child.” That must’ve been the last straw, my mark burned, but immediately stopped as another voice interrupted us.

“Sir, Lady, would any wine diffuse the situation?” Said the tall waiter wearing a goddamned purple cloak over his typical black and white suit. How fake-rich can a place be?

“Very much so! Ten bottles of anything older than you by a factor of centuries, thank you very much.” This was going to be a long night.