—Darkness.
That was all her existence had become. Time no longer mattered, feelings were no longer there. An ever-present darkness flooded her very soul, drowning her spirit in a dark sea.
Like all deep waters, however, there was a surface, distant yet attainable. And soon enough, she reached for that surface.
As soon as her head rose out of the depths, the darkness of despair she’d been drenched in gave way to a more gentle, even peaceful darkness. A darkness clad in familiarity, one which Elena, no, every living being had experience with.
She had no voice with which to describe it, yet her subconscious mind could feel the difference: this was the darkness of sleep. A profound sleep, no doubt, but one unlike that of death. A sleep with an expiration date, one whose darkness would soon give way to light.
And her mind was correct, as soon enough, a ray of light broke through her dark realm.
—
A light-brown ceiling met her eyes, both eyelids working a Herculean effort to not close like blinds. Some faint decorative patterns adorned the ceiling, but what most stuck out was the giant chandelier hanging down, its bowl as well as its chains made of gold.
She twisted her body a bit, a simple action she’d become unaccustomed to. She was lying on a bed, her head resting on a pillow while her lower body was covered by bedsheets, the fabric adorned with ornate flower patterns. Further observation of her surroundings revealed a large closet, a large double door, and a window through which light entered the room. A desk with a mirror also stood opposite to the bed, all sorts of fancy jewelry scattered on top of it.
On occasion, Elena’s view of the world would shake, but it was only an illusion, her head not yet back into the habit of perceiving reality. In truth, everything was static. Unlike the dizzying interiors of the pirate ship, everything stood in place. The wardrobe stood in place, the chandelier stood in place, the mannequin by the door frame stood in place…
Wait… a moment.
What Elena was seeing wasn’t actually a mannequin. Despite her lack of even the faintest motion, it was evident the female figure by the door was no doll, but instead a real, human girl. This clarity came from her deep blue eyes, which were aimed at the wall in front of her, then suddenly switched to intently watching Elena.
“...”
Elena had already arrived at the conclusion that this was a person of meat and bone. Yet as the seconds ticked by with nothing but stares exchanged between the two of them, she began to cast doubt on her own assessment. Now that she got a better look at the girl’s pupils, she could tell they were in an uncomfortable middle ground between reality and artificiality; her eyes were too devoid of life to belong to a person, yet her pupils had a natural beauty no human creation could ever imitate.
The eye contact would be shattered, as the girl abruptly turned her body around and opened the door, leaving. The presence of large windows and a red carpet were the only hints Elena could catch of the room’s exterior.
Left alone and fully back to her senses, Elena took the time to make sense of her situation.
There was no chance she somehow found herself back on Miles’ ship. From the little she’d seen of this place, it seemed far too lavish compared to the modest living quarters of Miles’ crew. Not to mention, the ground wasn’t moving all the time from constant waves.
She’d woken up somewhere else, somewhere she couldn’t recognize. In a sense, she was in the same position as when she first arrived upon this world.
The door opened, bringing her contemplation to an end. The girl from before strolled in, her face carrying no emotion but with steps of precise intent; she stood right in front of the wooden door like a statue. With her light-brown skin and brown clothes, it was easy to think she was trying to use the door as camouflage; her unusual silver hair shattered any chance of that occurring, however.
Notably, she hadn’t closed the door while stepping in, with a good reason. Soon enough, a tall, young man rushed into the room, his blond hair a mess.
“You’re finally awake. Thank Goodness.”
Once again, Elena had Skyrim flashbacks. After a small shake of her head, she brushed them aside and concentrated on what was going on.
The man stared at her lovingly, with an earnest smile to accompany his piercing green eyes. Throughout her time in this world, Elena had been on the receiving end of many a stare, yet something about his felt different. It felt like his pupils were camera lenses, trying to capture as much of her as possible.
“Number 9, help her get dressed,” he suddenly ordered. “I want to see her in the most beautiful dress this land has ever seen!”
Breaking her camouflage, the girl nodded her head, then finally said, “Yes, Master Charles.” Her words were as devoid of emotion as her body was devoid of motion. It’s surprising she didn’t just die from her heart not moving fast enough to pump blood.
“Oh, don’t worry, that won’t be necessary,” Elena said. “I can get dressed by myse—”
Elena tried to get up, but the moment she planted her feet on the ground, she caught wind of her own naked body. She let out a “Whaaaaaat”, her face shifting between discomfort and embarrassment.
Charles briefly stared open-mouthed, before turning around and crossing his arms. He began stammering, “E—hem. My… my dear, it is improper to show yourself like that in front of a man.”
“Where’s my dress?” asked Elena, throwing glances at every corner of the room.
“It was dirty and full of holes. Improper cloth for such a beautiful girl as yourself. But inside that wardrobe you’ll find dresses that’ll make you forget about that old rag.”
Every sentence he said was followed by a brief pause, during which he cast a quick look at Elena’s body. He was trying to be discreet, but Elena wasn’t fooled, causing her to roll her eyes and groan. Even if this body wasn’t hers, she didn’t appreciate being ogled.
Defeated and with a grimace, Elena said, “Fine, she can help me out. But you better get out of here!”
She voiced her order like she owned the place, and Charles reacted accordingly. “Yes, of course, I’ll leave you two ladies alone.”
Fast on his feet, Charles abandoned the room and closed the door. Elena let out a long sigh. “I thought that creep would never leave,” she voiced out loud. Immediately after, she covered her mouth with her hands, remembering she wasn’t actually alone. Just now, she’d been struck by the realization that saying such things in front of one of Charles’ subjects might be unwise. With hesitation, Elena’s eyes slowly shifted toward those of the girl, expecting to be met with some sort of reaction.
“...”
In hindsight, she had no idea what had made her expect such a thing. Normal human behavior, perhaps, but that was not something this girl, whom Charles had referred to as “Number 9”, had displayed so far. Case in point, she reacted by not reacting at all, instead calmly approaching the wardrobe’s door, then opening it.
“Choose,” Number 9 said.
Water began flowing inside Elena’s mouth. A long row of elaborate dresses presented themselves before her like it was a catwalk. From diamond green to salmon pink, the full gamut of colors was represented. Even she, who cared little for dressing well, could not deny the glamour each finely crafted piece of tailoring exuded.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Please, make your choice,” Number 9 repeated.
“Don’t you dare rush me,” she replied, hearts on her eyes. She was bad at making decisions, and this time was certainly not going to be any different.
After about twenty minutes, her eyes became entranced by one with a crimson red silk, with open shoulders and accompanied by a scarf made of fur. She began imagining a movie scene where she, oozing in glamour, assisted a large ball while taking zips of wine…
Wait a moment, I don’t even drink.
Besides, it’s not like going partying was something she desired anyway. She had no idea where she was, but regardless of where this was, she wanted to get out of dodge and get back to her pirate adventure as soon as possible.
“...”
She took another glance at the dress again.
But… if I’m gonna be stuck here anyway…. might as well make the most of it!
Simply put, the dress was far too pretty to let herself wrapped up in silly worries, so she told Number 9 to help her put it on.
“Very well, My Lady.”
“No need to be so formal,” said Elena with a cheeky grin. She stood up, fully exposing her nude self to Number 9’s gaze. “Just call me Elena,” she added. As much as she enjoyed the sound of the word lady being used in reference to her, she’d rather not get treated like a master.
In contrast to Charles, Number 9’s focus remained solely on her lady’s eyes, it at no point diverting toward Elena’s breasts or thighs.
She at first said nothing, but then let out a “Very well, Elena.” Her body was firm as a rock, and her speech remained formal to the point of being robot-like, which made the use of Elena’s name by itself stand out.
“Wow, you learn pretty fast. I was expecting you to say ‘Yes, Lady Elena’ instead,” Elena said, imitating Number 9’s speech patterns. Or lack thereof. “Are you an AI or something?”
“I do not know what you’re talking about.” Ironically, her denial made her come across as even more robotic, still uttered in complete monotone despite the strange nature of Elena’s question.
“Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know what that is.”
Without bothering with some sort of closer for their conversation, Number 9 stretched her right arm, with the aim of pulling out the hanger with the red dress.
It was then that Elena spotted what appeared to be a tattoo on her arm. It was colored blue, and appeared to be in the shape of a full moon, with splashing water surrounding it. Presumably, this was an artistic representation of the changing tides of the sea.
“Please turn around,” she asked, holding up the dress.
“Uhhm, sure,” Elena replied. She wasn’t sure why turning around was necessary, but was happy to oblige.
As soon as her back was turned, something unreal occurred.
An audible gasp left Number 9’s mouth.
This was the first time the girl had shown so much as a hint of emotion, catching Elena off-guard. “Is everything alright?”
“You… you… are a… a…” she stuttered in response.
“I’m a what?” Elena asked, tilting her head.
Elena’s confused tone caused a flip to switch inside Number 9’s mind, as she performed a short hop in place, and then followed by bowing her head repeatedly.
“My apologies, Elena. It will not happen again.”
Elena giggled. “You have nothing to apologize for. Come on, help me out.”
“Understood.”
—
“Oh my gosh! I. Look. Incredible!”
She couldn’t believe what she saw as she stared at the mirror. Clad in an elegance worthy of making any supermodel quake in envy, Elena was overwhelmed with glee.
“Woooo!”
She stretched her arms to her sides like an airplane, then began spinning her body around. The hem of the dress spun along with her, a whirlwind of red possessing the air.
That lasted until she started to feel dizzy.
“Wowowow”—she flailed her arms, trying not to fall backward, “ok, let’s not do that again. Seriously though, just look at this thing! I look like a queen! Mara would seethe if she saw me like this!”
It was a simple pleasure, but not one she was used to. She rarely got to dress up in anything fancy during her previous life. And even when she did, she never felt her body could live up to the beauty of whatever clothing she’d decided upon. But now that she was borrowing someone’s else’s skin, that feeling was entirely absent.
For the first time in her life, the mirror had shown Elena a frame that pleased her.
“Man, screw feminism, sometimes all you need to raise your mood really is to just look pretty!” she joked to an audience of only herself.
She wasn’t being serious, of course, but she couldn’t help but admit her hypocrisy. Back when she used to read Isekai comics, she’d roll her eyes at all the screen time wasted on showing lavish fashion that existed for no reason but for the sake of costume porn, cringing at the protagonists who’d go crazy over some florid clothing even when far more important things were going on. Yet there she was, observing the dress from every angle, noticing small details she hadn’t before.
Of course, the fact that she was the one wearing the fabric instead of just being a reader with an escapist fantasy probably helped. Criticizing a character’s actions became a lot harder when she was the character in question. The emotional high of wearing beauty overruled any potential cynicism toward fashion she might’ve once had.
“How do I look?” Elena turned around and asked Number 9, who observed her shenanigans how a guard dog watches a house.
Number 9 didn’t respond. She showed no sign of having even registered the question. “Hey, how do I look?” Elena repeated. Again, no response.
Maybe she didn’t realize I am talking to her?
It’d be strange, since nobody else was in the room, but this girl was full of surprises. To guarantee no further miscommunication, Elena needed to refer to her by name.
Wait, her name…
Embarrassment overtook her body. She’d forgotten to ask for the girl’s name.
“Uhmm, I know it’s kinda awkward to ask for this now, but… what’s your name?” she asked, sounding as if she feared she’d get kicked in response.
Not even two seconds went by, and “Number 9” was the curt reply Elena received.
“Oh come on, that’s not a name. That’s a number.” It was at that moment that it sunk in that the girl’s clothes were all worn out, with torn-out spots all over her body that left her skin exposed. “Also, there are plenty of clothes there in the closet, you should get something better to wear.” The difference in their attires was vast, so much so that it was making Elena feel uneasy.
In a rare moment of showing emotion, Number 9 raised her eyebrows, then said, “Huh? I am a servant, I am not allowed access to the Royal Wardrobe.”
Her voice was clad in anxiety, and her hand gripped her shirt. Luster now filled her eyes, her stare no longer that of a robot masquerading as a human, but instead those of a frightened girl.
The feeling of uncanniness pounded further at Elena’s neck. While seeing some emotion come out of Number 9 was an accomplishment, to see fear be that emotion only served to raise the question of what the source of that fear was.
Furthermore, her answer also made no sense. Even if she was a servant, why would the owners of this place disturb the regal atmosphere by disallowing the staff from dressing well?
At that moment, a sudden knock on the door startled them. After a moment of hesitation, Elena said, “Come on in!”
The door opened, and a tall man of silver hair made his way in. He was clad in plate armor, and four scars of different shapes were strewn across his face.
“My lady, allow me to introduce myself,” he said to Elena, placing his hand on his heart, “My name is Thales Lockgood, head of the Knights of Luzterna and your escort for the day. I am pleased to meet you.“
“Uhmm, an escort, you said?”
“Indeed. Prince Charles requested for me to come pick you up. Please, follow me.”
“P—Prince?”
The gears inside Elena’s head began spinning at Mach speed. Not only had she awoken in some sort of luxurious palace, but in the most important place in the country.
If fortune kept up, she could maybe end up as a princess, as she’d only dreamed of as a child. Charles hadn’t particularly appealed to her tastes in men, but who knows, maybe talking to him would change her mind.
She began rapidly tapping her chest with her hands, a joyful reaction to such exciting news.
“Shall we go?”
“Y—Yes!” she confidently answered.
Wasting no time, she followed after Thales, eager to see what this would all lead to.
So eager, in fact, she nearly missed out on an important detail.
As she was crossing the door, she glanced back at the room of her awakening one last time.
She spotted Number 9. She couldn’t get a good look, but she appeared to be shivering and hyperventilating.
Worried, she tried to go back in, but Thales blocked her with both his arm and with words. “Please, let’s not delay any further. Prince Charles is waiting for us.”
“I just thought that…” She didn’t want to call someone by a number, so there was no path that allowed her to continue with that sentence.
“Don’t concern yourself with such matters. Making the prince wait could prove disastrous,” Thales spoke, with such sternness and conviction as to come across as a touch intimidating.
Elena felt a shiver down her spine. His black stare engulfed her body, and made her hesitant to disobey.
“Sure. Let’s go.”