Hot fshes rushed through Eine. Her body felt heavy and ached everywhere. She tried opening her eyes and moving her fingers but could not summon the energy.

  “Is midy going to recover?” a worried young female voice inquired.

  “Don’t worry. The healer is working on her.” an older man’s voice reassured her.

  Midy? Who are they talking about? Am I in the hospital? Did someone inform my parents?

  Questions swirled in her mind as Eine attempted to gather her thoughts. Her head suddenly experienced an unfathomable, excruciating pain. Tiny sparks of strange memories stabbed her brain, merging with her own.

  These were not hers. But whose memories were they?

  Minutes passed by, and Eine’s body felt lighter and lighter. The pain and heaviness receded. She opened her eyes.

  “Midy is awake!!!” cried a young girl dressed in a medieval dress. Tears rolled down her eyes.

  Eine sat up on her bed and studied her surroundings, bewildered. She was in a room with architecture and furniture from a Baroque painting. Strangers in medieval outfits were circling her.

  Where is this? A movie set? Why didn’t they take me to a hospital?

  Eine dared not to speak, fearing a sudden attack from a room full of, in her view, lunatics.

  A woman rose from the crowd and stood in front of her. The woman was in her mid-thirties with beautiful, refined features and light golden locks pulled up into an intricate braid. Radiant multicolored gemstones and eborate bck ces adorned her crimson gown, further accentuating her ivory skin and curvy figure. The woman’s golden eyes gred icily down at Eine, dispying her displeasure.

  “Do you repent?” she commanded.

  Repent? For what? Who is this dy?

  “AHHHHH!!!” It hurt.

  Eine started screaming and holding her head, surprising everyone. Strange memories and the excruciating pain reappeared, piercing her mind. The woman yelled something at her. However, the throbbing in her head rendered Eine disoriented and unable to focus.

  A muscur, towering man emerged from behind. Heavy steel armor covered his entire body. The man’s hair grayed, and wrinkles lined his face, revealing his age. He approached and knelt before the woman. “Duchess, forgive my rudeness, but the healer only treated your daughter recently. Please allow her time to recover.”

  In her current state, Eine could not hear the man’s words. However, it seemed he was helping her. She gave him a small appreciative gnce and continued keeping her head down.

  “Fine. I will deal with this disgrace ter.” After a moment of silence, the woman finally agreed. She gave Eine one st inimical gnce and left. Everyone else slowly followed except the young, crying girl from earlier.

  She closed the door and returned to Eine’s bedside. “Midy, please y down and rest.”

  Though still hurting, Eine understood based on her gestures and y back on the bed. Time passed, and the pain she felt subsided. She closed her eyes and reorganized the fresh memories that continued to trickle in.

  This world was no longer hers but one with kings and nobles, mystical creatures, and ancient magic—a bizarre yet familiar world.

  Transmigration, a popur genre among young males and female readers, not in a million years would she have thought to encounter the same situation. Yes, she had transmigrated into the world of her favorite book and inhabited the body of Estel de La Croix, a side vilin in the story.

  Of all people, why Estel? Anybody would be better than her.

  Estel was the daughter of the Duke of Geris, Gerard Romaine de La Croix, one of the three most powerful noble houses in the étoile Empire. Her mother, the beautiful golden-eyed woman Eine recently met, Liviane Castia von Kleist, was the first princess of a small vassal kingdom in the West. Her parent’s marriage was political, and her father soon took many mistresses. Hence, the dukedom required her to produce a male heir to retain her power and position.

  Unfortunately, instead of a male child, Estel was born. Her birth disappointed many and delighted others. One of the Duke’s mistresses bore him a son a year ter. From then on, the Duchess viewed Estel as a source of shame and a constant reminder of her failure.

  After a few years, the Duchess finally gave the dukedom a male heir, Estel’s younger brother, Armes Ludwig de La Croix. She poured all her love and hope into him. The Duke, filled with joy, began grooming him as his successor.

  The young Estel grew up with everything she wanted except for parental love. As a result, she resented her younger brother, her parents, and even the children of the Duke’s mistresses.

  For as long as she could remember, Estel understood her fate. All noblewomen in the Empire shared an inexorable fate, a political tool for alliances—a mere puppet controlled by her family, with no thoughts or freedom of her own.

  Estel decided. Even as a puppet, she will become the Empire’s most beautiful, most respected puppet. She will become the Crown Princess.

  The current Empress was the Duke’s cousin. So, naturally, he supported Estel’s endeavor. The Emperor, simir to her father, sired many children. However, only one of his other sons could compete with the Crown Prince, the Third Prince, Alexander Henri de Castelne. Alexander’s mother, Lady Maria Cris d’Amboise, was from another prominent dukedom—the younger sister of the Duke of Lévis and the male protagonist’s aunt.

  Even though they assisted the Empire’s founding several hundred years ago, the two dukedoms regarded the other with contempt and frequently cshed. Only the third dukedom, the House of Marche, forever neutral in its stance, could bance the power and mediate between them.