I think I’m gonna die

Kayfair, Fondon

The kind of street where time forgot to move on.

The cobblestone lanes gleamed under the amber glow of the lamps, and the elegant townhouses stood shoulder to shoulder — silent, dignified, and probably judging her from behind their lace curtains.

Nae Rin could hardly breathe. This was it.

After years of unpaid internships, long nights, and courtroom coffee disasters, she had finally made it.

The townhouse before her stood tall and aristocratic, its windows like eyes watching her carefully — a relic of a world that no longer existed.

Once, dukes had lived here. Now, it was sliced into expensive little flats for ambitious people who couldn’t quite afford them.And one of those was hers.

Well… rented.

She dragged her suitcase up the steps and smiled at the brass plaque beside the door.

Her new “home” was a 55-square-meter, one-bedroom apartment on the second floor — creaky floors, stubborn radiators, and ceilings so low she could touch them if she stretched. But it was hers, and that was enough.

She smiled to herself as she hauled the last box inside.

“These beautiful old buildings used to house royalty,” she murmured. “Now they house overworked lawyers with student debt. Poetic, really.”

Inside, the apartment smelled faintly of new paint and dust. She could hear the faint hum of the city outside — taxis, footsteps, the kind of life that never slept.

The ceilings were high, the walls lined with faded crown moldings — and yes, the place looked much bigger online.

“I should’ve done a site visit,” she groaned, dropping her moving boxes. “The estate agent’s camera deserves an Oscar,” she sighed, eyeing the cramped living room. “The photos definitely lied. It’s… smaller. And the floor’s uneven. But hey — character!”

Still, she couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t perfect, but it was hers.

She put on her favorite piece — Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake — and let the strings fill the empty space. With each note, she unpacked, danced badly between boxes, assembled furniture, and laughed at her own clumsy pirouette.

By the time she collapsed on the floor, surrounded by half-built bookshelves, the clock read 4:06 a.m.

“Eh, it’s already past four,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Would be a waste to sleep now. I’m not even drowsy. Just one case study before bed.”

Famous last words.

She reached for a heavy leather-bound book she’d been meaning to read — Ancient Principles of Law.

The scent of old paper filled the room. Her finger traced the inked paragraphs describing punishments, decrees, and laws written centuries ago.

“Unbelievable,” she murmured, eyes narrowing. “These were real laws? No rights for women, no fair trials? They called this justice?”

Her vision blurred. The letters began to swim.

She blinked once.

Twice.

And then her world went black.

A soft knock woke her.

“Your Highness, may I enter?”

Nae Rin groaned. “No solicitors. Go away.”

Another knock. Louder this time. “Your Highness?”

She froze.

Wait. Highness?

Her eyes flew open. The ceiling above her wasn’t cracked plaster anymore — it was painted gold. The air smelled like lavender and candle wax.

“What the…” she whispered.

The door creaked open. A young woman in a maid’s uniform stepped inside, curtsied so deeply her hair brushed the floor.

“Your Highness, Princess Rinaelle,” the girl said breathlessly. “Forgive the intrusion. I came to help you prepare.”

Nae Rin blinked. “Prepare for what?”

The maid looked startled. “For your escape, of course. This safe house isn’t as grand as your palace chamber, but it was the best we could find on short notice. His Majesty’s men are already searching the capital—”

“Hold on—palace? Princess?”

But the maid was already fussing with the curtains.

Nae Rin stumbled to her feet and caught her reflection in a tall mirror. Her breath hitched.

That wasn’t her face.

Gone were her olive-toned skin and messy bun. In their place — porcelain skin, silver-blonde hair cascading over a crimson nightgown, and eyes like garnets.

“I look like I’ve been photoshopped by a maniac,” she whispered. “Who—what—is this?”

Before she could finish, another maid burst in, panting.

“Your Highness! Lord Jullian has learned you escaped the palace! His knights are already en route!”

“Who’s Lord Jullian?” Nae Rin asked, clutching the bedsheets.

“Your betrothed, of course! Please, we must leave—”

Before she could even finish her sentence “damp” the door slammed open. Two armored knights filled the doorway, swords gleaming in the candlelight.

“Princess Rinaelle!” one barked. “By royal decree, you are to surrender yourself at once!”

Nae Rin’s heart stuttered.

“I—uh—what—wait, I’m not—”

Their blades raised.

She backed toward the mirror, pulse pounding in her ears, and looking at her reflection shewhispered the only thing that made sense in that moment:“I think I’m gonna die.”

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