Book 1: Chapter 1 - Perfection [Part 2]
"The villa," she commanded.
Her chauffeur and bodyguard nodded silently, knowing better than to speak when his mistress was in one of her moods. He kept his eyes on the road, hoping traffic wouldn’t be heavy.
A former special forces officer, he had been chosen primarily for his qualifications. But he was also undeniably attractive—tall, broad-shouldered, with a dashing, almost insolent smile. And those dark eyes… she would never admit it, but her heart skipped a beat whenever he glanced into the rearview mirror to confirm one of her orders.
To keep her feelings in check, she pretended to forget his name on purpose. After all, she didn’t want him getting any ideas or putting on airs.
She opened her phone and scrolled through social media, smirking at the flood of positive comments. A frown briefly marred her perfect features when she noticed a single dislike. She’d have Hana, her personal secretary, coordinate with the three major internet companies to find out who had been so brazen. After all, she owned a majority share in each one; it would be laughably easy. Not really worth her time, but she made it a point to educate the masses. Whoever had disliked her post would soon learn their lesson. It was her obligation to society—her noblesse oblige.
In a world where many had stopped truly living their lives and were instead watching others live theirs, thousands upon thousands—no, millions—lived vicariously through her posts. She owed her adoring followers that much, at least. For them, the little glimpses into her life were the only respite from their otherwise excruciatingly dull existence.
She tsked when a news article popped up in her feed. They were blaming her company for poisoning a rural village’s water supply. Couldn’t they just drink bottled mineral water like civilized people? Honestly, some people. She’d been receiving death threats all week because of this nonsense. That was one reason she wanted to go on this drive in the first place.
But even that, of course, had been interrupted. There was no justice in the world.
A notification appeared on her phone: a game she’d personally funded was officially launching today. Long before the public or press, she’d played the alpha and beta versions to death, but she wanted her hands on the full, finished product. Not because she enjoyed playing games, of course, but to ensure it met the standards of one of the many companies under her group’s umbrella.
*****
Alone, she closed the doors to the master chambers after quickly preparing to retire for the night. The curtains drew automatically—she hated going near them. There could be a sniper lying in wait, or worse, a member of the paparazzi, that rare, dying breed she’d driven nearly to extinction. A free press was, after all, an enemy of the people and she had always thought herself an ally of the common man.
She pressed the power button on her console, waiting impatiently for the game to load. A dark screen faded in with the music, then the game’s emblem blazed across, followed by the title: The Maiden of the Wisterias. New routes had been added, and she was eager to try them out.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
As she pressed start on her controller, the world went dark.
“Hana!” she called, her voice notably not a scream. “Hana!”
Her secretary did not answer, the lazy thing.
This was odd. If it were a power cut, the backup generators should have kicked in by now. A feeling that was definitely not panic began to creep over her.
A strange sensation brushed her feet…cold, wet. Was she standing in water? Was she losing her mind?
She heard a splash behind her and swiftly turned, raising her hands in a defensive stance.
A figure in a long coat—or robes—approached, walking on the dark, liquid surface. Ripples trailed her steps. It was a surreal sight, and a chill of fear crept in.
“Welcome, my other self. I’ve waited so long to meet you,” said the figure, her voice ethereal, feminine, close yet distant.
Had someone tampered with her drink? Had terrorists or protestors finally found a way to release gas into her chambers? Anger surged, pushing aside her budding fear.
“You have five seconds to explain yourself, or I’ll have you killed and fed to your family,” she said icily.
But instead of the fearful or angry response she expected, the stranger only laughed.
“Of course. Even in another world, I’d be just like this,” the stranger mused. “Tell me, are you bored? Is life too easy? Do you feel… like you’re losing control?”
“I don’t believe I’m obligated to answer that,” the woman replied haughtily.
The figure laughed again, a musical sound with ghostly tones. “Of course you wouldn’t. I’ll talk first, then. I’m bored—bored stiff. The world moves to a predictable rhythm…surely the gods—oops—wouldn’t strike us down for a bit of variety?”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Now, her anger flared. Her foot sank another centimeter into the water, now up to her ankles. It was cold—freezing—and she realized she was only wearing a thin shift. Trembling, she steadied herself. “What trickery is this? Explain yourself,” she demanded, refusing to let her voice betray the chill overtaking her.
“Let us… change places. You are uniquely gifted to deal with the problems of Zed Valize and my Aranthia and in exchange… well, I will live your life out here. All of these world’s comforts are truly exquisite! I will be you and you will be me, how about it?” the mysterious woman, for she saw now by the lines of her body that it was a woman, before her insinuated.
The stranger radiated danger, yet something about her felt strangely familiar. It was the same feeling she had with her Burmese tiger—the one she’d kept since it was a cub, after killing its mother on one of her hunting trips. There was a certain thrill in hunting endangered species. The other cubs, of course, she had donated to a wildlife reserve, which still praised her generosity. A sizable donation probably helped with that as well.
But now was no time for her mind to wander.
"And… how exactly would we be 'swapping' places, as you put it so simply?" she asked, letting a sneer enter her tone.
"My dear, it would be a trifle! I’ve done all the hard work to come this far. All you need to do is say the words…" the stranger replied, draping her voice in mystery, the voice cultured and refined… and in a different language from her native tongue she belatedly realized.
Yet, she understood her on an intrinsic level.
Against her better judgment, the daughter of the country’s most powerful conglomerate could not help but feel intrigued.
It was enough.
Unbidden, the words came to her, and she felt an undeniable connection to the woman before her. They were words that held power. She caught the impression of golden hair falling forward, then felt a sudden, dizzying sensation of movement and dislocation before the world went black.