Ed had to let the voice help him get dressed. He didn't want to look helpless, but the unfamiliar clothes proved a challenge. He'd never worn anything like this before. The voice echoed in his head, offering advice and guidance.

Ed stood in front of the full-length mirror and admired his reflection. He was wearing a beautifully tailored outfit, as befitted an aristocrat of the highest class. The jacket was made of deep burgundy cloth, lined with gold brocade and decorated with intricate embroidery. The collar and cuffs were trimmed with fur, which made the ensemble look luxurious.

Under the jacket he wore a clean white shirt buttoned with gold cufflinks. The pants were made of the same fabric as the jacket and fit perfectly, tapering down to a pair of polished leather boots with silver buckles. Only the stubble spoiled the overall image.

Ed ran his hand over the fabric of the jacket, feeling the texture of the brocade and admiring the detail of the embroidery. "This is quite an outfit. What occasion calls for such a garment?"

"It is simply what one wears when one is an aristocrat," the voice explained. "You always have to look your best, especially when you're out in public."

Ed looked again at his reflection. The expensive clothing he wore only added to the illusion of wealth and status. But it wasn't him. He didn't belong in this body, in this time period, in this world. The man couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

The knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. A woman's voice rang out, "Your Grace, Marie is here to help you with your morning toilet."

Ed was taken aback. "Morning toilet?" he muttered, not sure what that meant.

The knock came again. "Your Grace?"

"Just let her in," the voice said in such a tone that Ed could clearly imagine the invisible Duke rolling his eyes at that moment.

He hurried over and opened the door, trying to act like this was all normal. But the shocked reaction of the maid took him by surprise.

"Oh gods, it was enough to answer her! Who opens the door for the servants themselves?" the voice was disgusted.

"Sorry," Ed mentally apologized, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

The maid was also extremely surprised by the master's action. But this was not his most eccentric trick yet, and she quickly composed herself and entered the room with the basket in her hands.

"Good morning, Your Grace. I hope you slept well," she said, her tone respectful but distant.

The Duke's personal maid was a small woman in her thirties with dark hair tied up in a neat bun. She wore a floor-length dress of dark gray fabric with tiny flowers and narrow white lace, giving her a modest and neat appearance.

"Yes, thank you," Ed replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Marie looked at him with concern. "How are you feeling, Your Grace? Should I call a doctor?"

"No, no, I'm fine. There's no need for a doctor," Ed laughed tensely.

"You're already dressed," Marie noticed. "Forgive my slowness today. I'm coming early in case Your Grace wakes up early."

Ed opened his mouth to reply, but the voice cut him off. "Be silent!"

Marie's help in the wash was to stand by his side and serve towels and toiletries. Then she called for the barber. Ed sat frozen in fear as a dangerous razor, more like a scalpel, removed the stubble from his face and neck. The man's hair was also combed and styled with sweet-smelling wax.

The barber offered him a small box of pomade. "Vampires have recently introduced the fashion for a pale look and red lips for men in the capital."

"Uh... You know, I'd rather be less fashionable," Ed declined.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"I thought Your Grace was still ill, so I asked that breakfast be brought here," Marie announced. "But if you wish, the meal can be moved to the small dining room."

"Yeah, I think that's not a bad idea. I'd rather have breakfast in the dining room."

Marie bowed and left the Duke's private chambers.

Ed let out a sigh of relief and sat down on the bed as she closed the door. He wasn't used to having a maid, let alone someone else taking care of his personal hygiene. He couldn't wait to get out of this situation and back into his own body.

"What do I have to do after breakfast?" the man asked the Duke.

"Hmmm. There is nothing important planned for today. We could visit the kennels, go for a ride. In the evening, if there are any invitations, you can attend some event. I don't arrange anything myself. First of all, I am still in mourning for my father, and secondly, it is very expensive and troublesome, and I do not yet have a wife who could take care of such an organization.

Ed was shocked. He had never thought that the owner of his new body could be married. He could only be glad that he didn't have to play a role in other people's relationships.

"Um... Do you have someone in mind?" he asked carefully.

"What do you mean?" the Duke didn't understand him.

"Well, some girl you're seeing, a fiancée."

"No fiancée. My mother died a long time ago, and my father was always busy at the Court and didn't have time to arrange an engagement with another family. There is, however, a ballerina; I sponsor her and sometimes take her to restaurants. But she's just a dancer, don't even pay attention to her."

Ed breathed a sigh of relief, although he did not understand what kind of relationship the Duke had with the ballerina and how he should relate to this affair.

***

Following the instructions of the voice in his head, Ed made his way to the dining room, where a set table awaited him.

Ed entered the dining room and was immediately struck by the grandeur of the room. The walls were lined with portraits of nobles, and the table itself was made of intricately carved wood, with ornate silverware and crystal glasses set neatly beside a plate of eggs and bacon.

"A new kind of tea was brought in from the capital yesterday. Would you like to try it?" Marie asked.

"Yes, please," Ed replied as he sat down.

Marie poured him a cup of hot tea and placed it in front of him. The other servants entered the room carrying bowls of porridge, toast and fruit. They all bowed to Ed as they placed the food on the table.

"Is there anything else you would like for breakfast?" Marie asked.

"No, this is fine," Ed said in confusion, looking at the cutlery in front of him: three forks, four spoons, and two knives.

Marie noticed that he didn't touch his food. "Is there a problem, Your Grace?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Ed said apologetically.

"Oh gods... Don't you know table manners?" the voice sighed. "What a country bumpkin I have got!"

The voice gave a brief lecture on table manners and the proper use of cutlery. Under the Duke's grumpy comments, Ed managed to finish his breakfast. Marie stood beside him, ready at any moment to respond to her master's request. The man glanced at her from time to time to make sure he was behaving properly at the table. But her expression was unmoved. Either he really was acting like a regular Duke, or she was so adept at maintaining her professional equanimity.

Ed folded his fork and knife onto his plate, as the voice had taught him, to indicate that the meal was over. And just then a servant entered with a tray. "Morning correspondence," he announced.

Marie waved her hand, and the servant quickly cleared the table and placed the tray of letters in front of Ed. The man picked up one of the envelopes curiously; the paper was thick and yellowish. It was sealed in bright red wax with some sort of crest imprinted on it. On the front were several lines of incomprehensible writing. Ed was taken aback. He had communicated freely with people since he came to this world, and he hadn't expected to encounter such an obstacle. Though, if you think about it logically, why should the writing be the same in different worlds?

"You can't read either," the voice concluded sarcastically.

"I can read," Ed took offense. "But not in your language," he added. "In fact, I went to university; I have a master's degree."

"You're a master? I've seen masters from the Royal Academy of Magic, but I've never met one so young," the voice said doubtfully. "In any case, your reading ability is no better than that of an uneducated peasant. But I will be kind and help you. I don't want you to violate etiquette and quarrel with any of my relatives and acquaintances because of your lack of knowledge."

Ed took letter after letter, opened them with a silver paper knife, and the Duke read each one, giving a brief summary.

"Okay, this is an invitation, some minor nobleman, you can skip it. Now, this is very important, will have to be present. But the event itself will be in five days, so in that time I will have time to prepare you, or you will leave my body. The next one doesn't matter either, one of the creditors is writing again."

"How is that unimportant?"

"They write all the time. If I have money, I'll pay the most persistent of them," the Duke explained nonchalantly.

"But what about the prison, the debt hole, the confiscation of property? Or what happens here if you don't pay your debts?" Ed was shocked at the carelessness of the body's original owner.

"This is all for the peasants and merchants, and I am a noble person. No one will dare condemn me and deprive me of my property for such nonsense," the voice seemed to boast of its origin at that moment.

"Hey! It won't work like that," Ed's stubbornness showed up here. "Let's talk about all your debts. If I am suddenly stuck in your body for a long time, I would like to know the details of all your problems."