Chapter 6

As Gabriella found herself suddenly thrust into a body that wasn't hers and a world that felt more fantastical than a fairy tale on steroids, she couldn't quite wrap her head around the surrealness of it all. It was like waking up in the middle of a cosmic joke, except instead of punchlines, there were potions and spells and a distinct lack of smartphones.

With a groan that could rival the sound of a grumpy dragon with a toothache, Gabriella rubbed her temples, trying to shake off the disorienting haze that clung to her like an overzealous spell gone wrong. "Well, isn't this just peachy," she grumbled to herself, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just what every girl dreams of—tripping over her own feet in a land where the laws of physics take a permanent vacation, with a rich, handsome husband to boot."

But as she trudged on through the labyrinthine corridors of her new reality, Gabriella couldn't shake the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sure, the idea of tea parties and magical shows sounded like a hoot and a half, but she couldn't help but miss the comforting mundanity of her old life—the cozy familiarity of her childhood home, the reassuring sound of her mom's voice nagging her to eat more vegetables, and her friends' crazy banter.

"And here I thought I'd be living so well in a fantasy world," Gabriella muttered under her breath, her words tinged with a hint of bitterness. "But instead, I'm stuck in a castle straight out of a fairy tale, with not a single Wi-Fi signal in sight."

As she shuffled along, shoulders slumped and spirits low, Gabriella couldn't shake the feeling of being adrift in a sea of magic and madness. It was like being the only one at the party who didn't get the memo about dressing up as a mystical creature—lonely, out of place, and just a tad ridiculous. And her eyes started feeling warm as droplets of tears rolled down.

But just when she thought she couldn't sink any lower into the depths of despair, a voice cut through the silence like a beacon of hope in the darkness. "Well, aren't you just a sight for sore eyes," came a voice from behind, dripping with charm and mischief.

As Gabriella spun around, she found herself face to face with Duke Asher Von Rothchester, a striking figure that could have stepped straight out of the pages of a fantasy epic. Well, actually, he is. But that's besides the point. Dressed in black regal attire that accentuated his powerful frame, Asher exuded an air of noble elegance that was impossible to ignore. His jet-black hair was styled with meticulous care, framing his chiseled features in a way that could rival even the most fashionable of modern-day idols.

With his piercing gaze and confident demeanor, Asher was the epitome of dashing charm and charisma. He carried himself with the grace of a seasoned warrior, every movement fluid and precise, as if he were born to command the battlefield. And yet, there was a hint of mischief in his eyes, a spark of lightheartedness that belied his noble status.

But at the sight of his teary-eyed princess, Asher's charming grin faltered. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort gnawing at the edges of his pride. Sure, he hadn't known her for more than a day, and his feelings toward his foreign bride were about as shallow as a kiddie pool, but seeing her in distress stirred up a strange sense of irritation within him.

"I swear, this is not how I imagined my first day as a duchess," Gabriella sniffled, her voice wavering as she struggled to contain her tears. "I mean, who knew trading in my Netflix subscription for a one-way ticket to the Dukedom would come with such emotional baggage?"

Asher arched a skeptical eyebrow at her melodramatic lament, his own emotions a tangled mess of confusion. "Net-what?" 

And she realized that she blurted out a modern word that this man would never understand and hastily made an excuse.

Gabriella's mind raced to come up with a plausible explanation, her inner monologue a frantic jumble of panicked excuses. "Uh, well, you see, Your Grace," she stammered, desperately trying to buy herself some time. "Netflix is, uh, a magical...uh, tool, used by a wandering sorcerer that I happen to meet in my homeland to, um, access...uh, enchanted...um, entertainment."

Asher's expression softened with understanding, though a hint of skepticism still lingered in his eyes. "Ah, I see," he replied slowly, his tone laced with amusement. "Enchanted entertainment, you say? Well, I must admit, it sounds positively enchanting. Perhaps you could teach me how to use this Netflix sometime."

Gabriella breathed a sigh of relief at his seemingly accepting response, grateful that her impromptu fib had managed to pass muster. "Unfortunately," she replied with a grateful smile, her cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "I mean, I'd be happy to show you the ropes...uh, the magical incantations required to access the enchanted entertainment… However, I haven't seen that sorcerer in a long while…"

"It's alright, we can find them if we search well enough." he retorted. "Besides, you're a Rothchester now, and we don't do tears—we save those for when the wine runs out," he said as he gently wiped her cheek with his hand.

Gabriella sniffled again, her tears giving way to a watery chuckle at his attempt at humor. "Right, because nothing says 'nobility' like drowning your sorrows in a vat of expensive wine," she quipped, her words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Asher couldn't help but smirk at her dry wit, the tension between them momentarily easing. "Ah, see? You're getting the hang of this duchess thing already," he teased, his grin returning in full force.

-

"By the way, aren't you busy?" she asked.

Asher's expression remained nonchalant, as he remembered the betrayed face of his assistant toward his impulsive decision to abandon his duties at the mere sight of Gabriella's figure. "Ah, you caught me," he replied with a charming grin, his voice dripping with faux innocence. "I must admit, the allure of the great outdoors proved too irresistible to resist."

Gabriella raised an eyebrow, not buying his flimsy excuse for a second. But she just laughed at his excuse.

Asher chuckled, unable to suppress a smirk at Gabriella's perceptiveness. "Alright, you got me," he admitted, his grin widening into a smirk. "I may have... accidentally forgotten about my paperwork the moment I caught sight of your radiant presence from the window."

Gabriella's eyes widened in mock horror, her hand flying to her chest in an exaggerated gesture of disbelief. "You mean to tell me that the great Duke Asher, the symbol of paperwork and champion of strict rules, abandoned his duties for little ol' me?" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with mock incredulity, hiding the fact that her heart almost leapt out of her chest at his smoothness with words.

"Guilty as charged," Asher confessed, his smirk growing wider with each passing moment. "But in my defense, paperwork has a way of multiplying faster than rabbits on a hot summer's day. A little break won't hurt anyone, right?"

Gabriella couldn't help but laugh at his audacity, shaking her head in amusement. "Just don't make a habit out of neglecting your duties for my sake, or else the entire dukedom will be in shambles."

Asher feigned a look of mock offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock dismay. "My dear Duchess, you wound me with your lack of faith in my multitasking abilities," he retorted, his voice dripping with exaggerated indignation. "I'll have you know, I can charm the socks off a centaur while balancing a ledger with my other hand."

As Gabriella found herself caught in a whirlwind of laughter and confusion, she couldn't help but marvel at the difference between the Asher she knew from the novel and the one standing before her—a mischievous man with a penchant for theatrics.

But as her laughter subsided, a nagging thought wormed its way into her mind like an annoying goblin in a dungeon. Was the Asher she read about merely a figment of someone else's imagination, she wondered? Had she been duped by flowery prose and exaggerated descriptions? Was this truly the same man who had been described in such reverent tones in the novel? Or had she somehow stumbled into an alternate reality where Asher was a less brooding second male lead and more of a woodland sprite?

The uncertainty gnawed at her like a hungry dragon, filling her mind with questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answers to. Did the saintly saintess truly possess a heart of gold, or was it all a facade? Was the enigmatic male lead as charming as he seemed, or was he just another dashing facade with a heart of lead?

Gabriella found herself lost in thought, pondering the mysteries of fate and fiction. As much as she wanted to uncover the truth, a part of her hesitated, fearing that the reality might tarnish the magic of the story she held dear. After all, ignorance was bliss, right?