It’s early in the morning. Time for my daily workout! Can’t be successful if your body isn’t in good shape!

Or rather, it’s time for the last section of my daily workout to conclude! Sit-ups! A core workout used to wrap up my day.

“Two hundred!” I whisper at the last crunch. I stand, popping up to my feet without issue. A smile arouses my face. “Dooooone!”

I look into the mirror by my wardrobe to admire my effort.

My arms are toned, but not too much. They’re clearly muscular, which is more evident now that I’ve worked them. Still, it’s not like I’m adding increased weight to my daily exercise routine. I’m only using my body. It’s probably why I don’t look like some sort of Cyclops gorilla in dresses.

The only definitive change in my body are my abs. I have them. They’re great. There are almost six. They aren’t completely visible, but I’ll take them!

Adorning my body is a pair of exercise clothes. I call them that, but there’s no such thing in these lands. To live is to exercise, and that’s a fact of life. Gyms only exist when society reaches a certain point of peace and industrialization. This world isn’t there yet.

My lower half is covered with a pair of baggy pants tucked into boots. My top is covered by an old white shirt, but the mid-rift has been removed, as have the sleeves. I tie the top to my side in a tight knot to keep it secure.

Underneath, an array of bandages bind my breasts to my chest.

It turns out that running in this top spread salacious stories between the guards. Or so I heard from my friends. Then when Alexander asked if he could be lucky enough to watch me run in the morning, I realized why people talked about me.

Sports bras don’t exist here, though bras do. I’m not sure why. If I had to guess, it’s because the materials to make them have not been discovered yet or are not used in that way. Felix never had to worry about Scarlet problems, them being my tits. I’ve been letting them bounce about in tight, homemade tops from old clothes like I’m putting on a strip show for the help. And damn did it hurt my nipples, then later, my pride.

Therefore, my boobs are bandaged while I exercise. It helps. I didn’t realize how much they were getting in the way of things. It’s been so nice that I keep them bound most of the time now except when I’m sleeping, bathing, or lounging around.

Anyways, life is great!

“Life is weird,” I audibly say in response to my thoughts.

Understatement.

And I was holding it in so well!

Gaaaaah! I let a fucking dude kiss me!

I gagged a lot.

Not in a dirty way. More of an “I’m disgusted” way.

Prince Christopher, I guess I’m just calling him Christopher now, is a kind person. He was attentive during our date, for lack of a better word.

Who am I kidding? If I were in his shoes, I’d consider it a date. So it was a date. Dammit, fine! On our date! There! Even I said it at the time! Why am I so confusing?!

Am I going to be sick again?

I feel it….

Annnnnd I’m good!

Eh, I’m overreacting at this point because my body’s adaptability is starting to scare me.

Essentially, I learned a lot about Christopher in our short time together. Most importantly, I got the vibe that he feels somewhat trapped being a prince. I was right on the money, too. When I confessed my lacking desire to get married, he understood why instantly.

We talked. I learned his intentions. They weren’t surprising, though he likely hasn’t told me everything. If I marry him, I’ll have to get pregnant. Have kids. The very idea of doing “that” makes me physically ill. Hell, nearly kissing him almost made me vomit. But him doing me? I’ll cry the whole time, I swear to the Gods.

I won’t ever let it get that far. Kissing is as far as I’ll go. I’ll escape long before I’m forced to screw. I’m never doing it with anyone. I’m way too uncomfortable with myself to ever go that far in a body I only vaguely feel is my own.

Neither are kids ever coming out of me. I saw the videos in health class. My first thoughts were, “Thank God I’ll never have to do that!”

Isn’t karma a bitch?

It was hard to give birth with the refined medical care of a twenty-first-century Earth. I’d have to do it in a fucking bed with some maids crowded around, a healer if there is one available, and a single doctor! There are painkillers, but nothing that comes close to morphine.

Hopefully, it won’t come to that!

All I need to do for now is keep up the act. I’m a willing, agreeable person. Make concessions for “me,” and I’ll stand by “you.” That’s all Christopher needs to believe for now. Because if he does, he’s controllable. That’s good. I was able to put off kids. Not forever, but I’ll think of something before the time comes.

Still, I doubt Christopher could just take my word on it. I had to show capitulation in some form. Thus, the kiss. The atmosphere at the pond, the haze of the day, the conversations we had. It made sense at the moment.

But I gagged.

Twice.

I thought I had doomed myself.

But then the man came up and kissed me right after the second gag. He didn’t give me time to think.

And the worst part?

It wasn’t that bad.

I think the best way to describe it is that I didn’t despise it. My body had no reason to. It was even receptive in some ways I don’t want to think about. It’s my mind causing the conflict. The kiss happened, my body accepted it, but my brain wanted to ‘puke again.’

Gods, I’m psychotic…

Christopher said it best, though. In this existence, I’m a woman. It isn’t weird for a woman to kiss a guy.

Granted, back on earth, it wasn’t weird for a guy to kiss a guy depending on your upbringing and preferences. Admittedly, I did find those types of couples awkward to be around, like they were bugging the back of my brain. The last gay person I met was Sofia’s friend. Never caught his name, but I was anxious around him all night.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

If a psychologist could view my life now, I’m sure they would say I was repressing latent feelings as Felix that culminated in my discomfort around homosexual behaviors. Stuff like that is why I never went to one in the first place. The fact that even Alexander thought I might be repressing parts of my sexuality made me feel like a clueless moron. Is he right or am I overcompensating because I’m suddenly feminine and feel I should act this way?

Huh. I never did try therapy when I was suicidal, did I? Damn, I made a lot of mistakes. Then again, I hate when people analyze me like they’ve lived in my skin and made my decisions. I reject the subject wholeheartedly. Absurd. All of it. I’m just overthinking things. That’s all psychology does. It makes you overthink shit with simple answers.

Regardless of my views, questions of my sexuality have slowly become a nightly topic I dwell on before going to bed. It’s wonderful. Not confusing at all. Exactly what I want to be doing with my time!

I’m like a living test case for an impossible gender studies scenario. I lived as a biological man in a biologically male body, died, retained my memories, then reincarnated in the body of a biological woman.

Gods, the books I could write…I’d make so much money…

If it weren’t for the whole “arranged marriage” thing, beyond the monthly bleedings, I’d be fine with this new life. Granted, I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, but it is bearable. I’m not suicidal anymore, and that’s the most important thing.

Honestly, I’m still not sure what’s going on with me. There’s no precedent. I may never truly know. So what does that mean for me? That my life is very nuanced? Probably.

“All that means is that I’m a whore,” I say. “Huh, Alexander?”

That answer is simpler. If only it were true.

I begin stripping off my sweaty clothes and drop them into a pile on the floor. A bath is waiting for me across the hall. I adorn a robe, cross the threshold, and soak in a tub for around thirty minutes to clean my body and relax my stiff muscles.

A knock sounds outside the washroom’s door.

“Yes?” I call out with mild concern.

“May I come in?” Sonya asks.

“I’m in the bath.”

“Child, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count. Are you coming out soon, or are you staying in?”

“Staying in.”

The door opens. Sonya casually walks inside. She stands some distance away from the tub. Water obscures my body, but this woman is essentially my mom in this life. I’m not embarrassed for her to see me like this, nor does she care. The woman changed my soiled undergarments when I was a baby. The bond between us is solid.

“How did your day go with Prince Christopher?”

“Why does my father care?” I ask, skirting the question.

“That obvious?”

“Very.”

“He’s merely concerned for your happiness,” remarks Sonya with a fake smile.

“He wants me to marry the prince over Gai, doesn’t he?”

“That’s certainly true.”

“Because he’s more politically advantageous?”

“That’s not it.”

“What then?”

“Well, Gai is rather…vacant as of late,” Sonya pronounces oddly. She dodges the actual words bubbling up in her mind.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he is rarely around. When he is here, he sleeps all day. At night, he steals from the kitchens before heading into town until the next morning.” Sonya shakes her head. “It’s not right. To think he comes from such a respectable family.”

“Family doesn’t make the person. They merely guide them for as long as they can.”

“As astute as ever, Lady Scarlet.”

“Thanks, Mom. And the assessment of Christopher?”

“A very polite, charming young man. He smiles at everyone who greets him. He’s in bed and awake at acceptable hours. When he’s not asleep or eating, he’s either practicing his swordsmanship or studying in the library.”

“So I’ve seen.” I frown. “It’s not like I can do anything about the duel,” I add after a tail-end of silence. “Whoever wins gets to marry me. That’s the deal. I’m a prize at the end of a competition.”

Sonya frowns as well. “Don’t think of yourself like that. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

“I’m sure they would.” I smile evenly. There’s venom to my words. “Have me. Use me as they wish.”

“You’re in…an unfortunate situation,” says Sonya as she looks away uneasily.

Sonya will not directly fight against her employer. While she may think of me as a daughter and raised me as such, she has no power over the parts of my life that matter. If she did, I’m sure I’d have a more liberated life. Alas, that is not the case. My family is her employer. No matter what she thinks, she abides by their wishes. It is her job to do so.

It’s also hard for me to honestly consider her my “mother” in a literal sense. I had one, as flawed as she was, in my past life as Felix. In this one, I’m an orphan. I have no familial connection with anyone here even if they birthed and provided for me. I have wrestled with this for years, and it is how I feel deep down. I left my real family, both alive and dead, in another world. At most, I think of Sonya as an older co-worker, but she’s fulfilled the role of “mother” in my life for the most part, so I treat her as such outwardly.

It is a painful truth that makes everything so much lonelier.

Hmm. Reflecting on what Sonya said, I suppose I haven’t seen Gai lately. Not since the ball. If he’s only active at night, that makes sense. I’m usually in bed just after the sun sets, and I’m up just as it rises for sword lessons.

Honestly, I always assumed Christopher would win regardless. He seems more prepared for battle. While I may like Gai’s personality, he’s very half-assed. I don’t even fully understand why he provoked this competition in the first place. He was probably so drunk he doesn’t remember why he did it.

“So Gai’s kind of a loser then?”

“I wouldn’t use those words exactly,” resists Sonya to my phrasing.

“I would.” I chuckle. “Oh well then. If Christopher’s trying and Gai isn’t, that goes to show who cares more. That’s fine. Christopher’s a fine alternative. He helped me through my first kiss even when I was being dramatic, so—”

“First kiss?!” Sonya interrupts me.

I cock my head to the side. “O-Oh, I mean. No. Th-That didn’t happen.”

Sonya glares at me. “Did anything else happen?” she stresses her words carefully.

Oh, Gods.

“Did he…make you do anything?”

I can feel my face glowing red with embarrassment. “No! It’s not like that!”

“I should have made Remi follow you. She offered. I thought you’d act a little more conservative.” Sonya crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m disappointed, Scarlet. Is it because I never talked with you about these things? That’s my fault for assuming. Here’s free advice. No matter how nice the man, all they want is the wet spot be—”

“Sonya!” I cut her off. “He didn’t do anything to me! Nothing more than a kiss! I promise! Geez, you make it sound like I stripped naked and let him ravage me!”

“Then you do know what men want!” snaps Sonya. “Yet you were so free with him on your first time out together?! Maybe other women can strut about kissing and doing whatever, but you cannot. It’s the implications, Scarlet! Let him work for it, even if you didn’t choose each other! Don’t give yourself away until he’s earned it!”

“Sonya!” I repeat, still shocked at my secondary mother’s crass words and teachings.

Gods, she did always talk shit about her “cheating husband,” but I didn’t know it’d bleed into her life lessons! She’s always been so reserved and sweet on every other subject. Men must be a sore spot in her kindness. It’s probably why she’s being so harsh about my chastity.

“It’s the truth!” says Sonya.

“There is literally nothing to worry about.” I pause. “Except for the gagging,” I murmur. “I need to get over that before the wedding.”

“What were you gagging over, girl?!” hisses Sonya. Her voice raises an octave.

“The kiss!”

“And where was this kiss?!”

“What are you implying?!”

“You know exactly what I’m implying! Just because you use the hole above your neck instead of the one between your legs doesn’t make it any better!”

“SONYA!”