Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The historical, cultural, or legal references within are included solely for artistic and narrative purposes and do not represent factual statements or advice.
Chapter One — I Think I’m Gonna Die
Kayfair, Fondon.
The kind of street that smelled faintly of rain, old money, and history that refused to die.
Nae Rin had never felt so out of place in her life — or so proud of it.
After years of unpaid internships, sleepless nights, and caffeine-induced hallucinations, she was finally standing on the cobblestone street she’d dreamed about since law school. 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.
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.
“I should’ve done a site visit,” she sighed, eyeing the cramped living room. “The photos definitely lied. It’s… smaller. And the floor’s uneven. But hey — character!”
She set her phone on the counter, queued up her favorite piece — Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake — and let the music fill the space as she unpacked.
Between boxes and bad ballet twirls, she assembled her desk, hung up her degree, and proudly stared at her tiny “office corner.”
By the time she was done, it was 4:03 a.m.
“Eh,” she mumbled, stretching. “Too late to sleep now. Might as well study a bit.”
She reached for a thick, old book she’d found tucked into one of the built-in shelves. The leather cover was cracked, the title barely legible: Ancient Principles of Law.
The pages smelled like dust and candle smoke. The text, archaic and uneven, detailed laws written in a time when women could be executed for speaking against the crown.
Nae Rin frowned. “Unbelievable. Imagine living under this. No wonder history’s full of revolutions.”
Her eyelids grew heavier with each word. The letters blurred. Her thoughts tangled and slipped away into the hum of the night.
And then — the light flickered.
The air changed.
The same room was still around her… but it wasn’t.
A knock broke the silence.
“Your Highness, may I enter?”
Nae Rin stirred, groggy. “Huh? Who’s there?”
The knock came again, urgent. “Your Highness, please— we have to hurry!”
She blinked, trying to focus. The layout was the same — her small flat, same walls, same window — but the furniture was gone. In its place were heavy curtains, a vanity, and flickering candlelight that painted the air gold.
“What the hell…”
The door burst open. A young woman in a maid’s uniform stumbled in, breathless. “Princess Rinaelle, we must go! The knights have found the townhouse!”
“Townhouse?” Nae Rin repeated faintly.
“Yes, Your Highness! They traced your escape here from the palace! Please, hurry—”
Nae Rin stood up too fast, gripping the edge of a carved table that hadn’t existed five seconds ago. “Wait—palace? Princess? I’m a lawyer, not—”
Her words caught in her throat. A mirror stood against the wall — tall, gilded, impossibly ornate.
The reflection staring back wasn’t hers.
Long silver hair. Ruby eyes. A crimson gown that shimmered like blood.
She stepped closer, breath trembling. “Oh no. No, no, no. What—”
Before she could finish, another maid burst in. “Your Highness! Lord Jullian’s men have surrounded the street! They know you’re here!”
“What? Who’s—”
The windows shattered. Two armored knights crashed through, blades drawn, candlelight glinting off polished steel.
“Princess Rinaelle!” one barked. “By royal decree, you are to surrender yourself at once!”
Nae Rin froze, hands raised instinctively.
“I—I think there’s been a massive misunderstanding,” she began. “You see, I’m—”
The knight took a step forward, sword leveled at her heart.
“Silence,” he growled. “You’ll answer to Lord Jullian himself.”
Nae Rin’s pulse raced, her breath coming fast.
Her small, rented London flat — the one she’d dreamed of for years — was gone. And in its place stood a royal death trap.
“I think,” she whispered, eyes wide, “I’m gonna die.”
