2. Dinnertime
A lavish feast stands in front of me. There's all types of meat cooked in all different ways, from pork to beef to turkey to quail. Mouthwatering smells fill the room from the various appetizers, and there are plates of buttered bread, creamy mashed potatoes, and leafy salads elegantly placed everywhere. There's no shortage of delicacies and there are constant refills of century-old wine that peasants can hardly dream about.
I can hardly stop myself from drooling. Everything looks so good, and it takes all of my willpower not to scarf down the glistening plate in front of me. Compared to my beggar's meals in my past life of stale moldy bread and sewer water, what's in front of me seems like Heaven. If this is the price for death, I will gladly pay it. It's not like my life was any better.
Unfortunately I don't believe I'm dead. Every sensation feels too real and what's more suspicious is my body. If I died wouldn't I still have the name of Elise? This Lady Scarlet, or whatever, is too unlike me. I was a dirty orphan in my past life, with dingy brown hair and empty eyes. My skin was stained and scarred and worn down by labor. Sure, if I cleaned up and got rid of the smell of piss and trash I could pretend to be a decent member of society, and at one point I was even "pretty" — and instance that only further led to my demise. Anyways, there is no way my hideous soul can be transformed into the gorgeous being I am now. I still can't believe it, and my perfectly manicured hands never fail to surprise me.
I must have been reincarnated, or I must have traded bodies with someone in another dimension. While it seems unbelievable, I can't offer any other explanation. Everything seems too real to be fake, and I'm certain I died. I killed myself after all, and with every last movement I acted with certainty. Yet now my body moves on its own, following the proper etiquette of nobles while keeping a gracious smile and beautiful posture. Based on my surroundings I am a noble, for my elegant dress and luxurious ornaments don't signal the plight of commoners and the rich that I know don't act so modestly. I'm still quite confused, but for now I should act as this Lady Scarlet would normally and try to find out more information later.
I almost laugh at this thought. Normally you would expect me to panic, but it appears that my last life left me wary and calculative. I'm always plotting how to benefit myself the most, always protecting myself.
"Ahem." The man in front of me coughs and I look up. He has vivid scarlet hair just like mine and a handsome, rugged figure despite being in his middle years. His red beard is well groomed and his clothes are luxurious and embezzled with gold.
"How was the test?" He asks, directing his question to the person next to him. This new person is a boy of about seventeen years, with crimson hair and golden eyes. He is lean and muscular, and wears a dark blue uniform bearing the insignia of the moon.
"I ranked second only to the Crown Prince, Father." Answers the boy.
The Lady on the other side of the first man smilea gently. She is incredibly beautiful, with long pink hair and shimmering gold eyes. She carries herself elegantly and amicably and seems to be quite the passive person. I haven't heard a word out of this person's mouth yet. But judging from their appearances and words, the people in front on me are a family, with the beautiful lady being the mother, the rugged man being the father, and the crimson-haired boy being the son. Perhaps they may be... no, I shouldn't assume anything more yet.
Speaking of which, why are their hair colors so weird? Red is a natural color, but it's only really rust looking and pink isn't natural at all. However, the colors all seem to be genetically transferred and look normal. Is this some kind of weird anime fantasy world like that magical girl thing I saw on TV once? But the setting is pretty western...
The father laughed, interrupting my thoughts. "That's my son!" He said proudly. "I bet you could even put the Crown Prince to shame if you tried!"
Evidently the family were not royals, otherwise this so-called Crown Prince would be here.
The lady coughs. "Dear." she says gently — I swear every movement she makes was somehow delicate and refined. Are people supposed to be so pretty when they're eating? She probably cries crystals too.
The father coughs. "Of course, that is only a father's pride saying foolish things. Our Crown Prince is incredible in every subject and the best of the best! Long live His Highness!" He announces.
I almost roll my eyes at this.
"And of course, His Highness deserves only the best of the best — our beautiful Elizabeth!" The father continues announcing while turning towards me.
I almost drop my fork in shock. "What?" I ask.
The man laughs again, a little differently from before and with some uncertainty. Maybe he has a laugh for each situation? "My daughter, you are so funny!" ...Wow that didn't sound fake at all. "You're engaged to the Crown Prince, of course! In fact, we're meeting your fiancé and the King next week!"
A million thoughts spiral through my mind at once. Me, engaged to a Crown Prince? That's the next person to be King, right? Surely he must be handsome, but well, he'd be rich anyways! Royalty must live in an even bigger place than this and eat even better food — if that's even possible! A life of comfort and luxury must await! Oh, but what if concubines and mistresses are allowed? Well, I'd probably be queen since my family seems so prominent...
"Elizabeth, darling?" The women asks me worriedly.
This brings me back to reality once again. "Of course!" I giggle awkwardly, but it passes the test and everyone else smiles. "I just had a moment of lightheadedness. I'm fine now though."
"I see." The father smiles — actually I think it's alright to confirm it now, that this is MY family. My father, my mother, and my brother. It would make sense, as everyone here is exceptionally beautiful and shares similar traits. My green eyes come from my father too. It's such a weird feeling though, having a family. I used to scour the streets for people who looked remotely like me in my past life and imagine if they were my parents, or my siblings, and long for a better life...
We continue chatting for a while — well it's really only my father and brother talking while the women serve to compliment the table, ugh stupid patriarchy — until dessert is brought out.
DESSERT! DESSERT! There is so much cake and cream and rich chocolate and oh my god it's strawberry shortcake. The cake of my DREAMS! The cake I would see in bakeries, the cake I would see happy groups of friends eating together, the cake that I once tried by chance and fell in love with... STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE!!! This must really be Heaven, I think as soft cream melts on my mouth and sweet strawberries flood my tastebuds.
I'm sorry, I lost myself a bit there. It's just that I panic whenever I see strawberry shortcake. Heck, you could pull out any secrets from me using it.
The rest of dinner goes swimmingly. There are no problems and I find myself pulling out strands of information from the conversation. Realizing that I'm now living a life of luxury and happiness, I happily munch away at my cake with promises of a better life surrounding me.