i won't lie

I blink for a second, and the next thing I knew, my heavy eyelids reawaken to find themselves in a dark and damp room, the pungent smell of rust, urine, and— my God— feces irritating my nose.

"You are finally awake, Mademoiselle," a voice in the dark says, followed by the clicking of heels. A dim, floating light blinds my eyes and reveals the silhouette of a tall and slender man. I squint against the assault of the voice's candlelight just to get a clearer view. "How are you feeling?"

The silhouette sits in front of me, and once my eyes have begun to adjust to the lighting of the room, I find a rather interesting individual appear. I'm not sure how to describe him since his facial features are hidden behind a sheet of metal, but the one thing that does stand out is the deep, red scar that peeks out from within the man's uniformed collar.

How long the scar is, I don't know. And how he managed to get it… that I don't think I have the right to know.

After all, I don't belong in this time. My only objective is to get back to Grandpappy's manor and to the age of cellphone-users.

If I were in a game, that would be my one and only mission. I don't have time for petty side quests nor relationship building with other characters.

"I see you are quite lost in thought," the man says in an accent that is rich and melodic, almost like French. But his pronunciation of a few vowels sounds a tad bit off, sounding like a different accent altogether.

I'm utterly confused.

"We don't plan to hurt you," he begins.

"We?" I state, glancing around the darkened room to find more sentinel-looking people lurking in the shadows. "Yeah, right."

The man chuckles. "We honestly don't plan on hurting you, Mademoiselle. If you cooperate with us, of course."

"Cooperate with what?"

Even though I can't see his expression, I can tell he wears a smile of satisfaction. He holds up his hand to which a guard from the shadows appears in my view, handing him a manila envelope unsealed at the top. He opens it and pulls out a stack of papers before setting them in front me.

I lean forward to look at the scripted words, finding the words Red Poppies bolded at the top. Beneath it is the name Rafael Downing, accompanied by a black-and-white image of an elderly man around Grandppapy's age with deep-set wrinkles and a permanent frown.

I furrow my brows. "What is this?"

"You tell me," the shrouded man says. He leans behind his seat. "You should know him. He was the one who hired you after all."

"What?" How the hell should I know who this crusty, old man is? I shake my head. "I'm sorry, but I really don't know who he is."

The sentinel doesn't respond. Instead, I feel his invasive eyes search for something in me that isn't there.

"If you don't know, then how did you manage to evade His Highness' security." The sentinel straightens his body before leaning over on his elbows. "We expected an assault, given this is His Highness' debut to the bachelor world. So, we made sure all perimeters were heavily guarded and no one, even the Duke himself, was permitted in and out of the garden. Which makes me question how you managed to make such a grand and, shall we say, clumsy entrance to the party. You wouldn't have been able to do that if it were not for Downing's help."

It's as if a whirlwind of hornets just invaded my mind, swarming around my ears with their incessant buzzing to the point that it makes me numb. Not a word that fell from this unknown man's mouth was able to be comprehended by this small mind of mine.

His Highness.

The Duke.

Raphael Downing.

None of them makes freaking sense at all!

I can tell he expects me to know something I don't; he expects me to confess to something I was never a part of. If I do, then punishment awaits me. But if I don't, I have a feeling the outcome won't be any different.

I wonder how in the hell I've managed to accumulate enough bad karma to be stuck in this situation. This sense of urgency makes me want to return home more than ever before.

"Return home, Mademoiselle?" The sentinel asks. I blink.

Did he just…

"Read your mind?" He finishes, concluding with a chuckle. "No, I don't have that kind of power. However, I am quite skilled in predicting your thoughts."

Yeah, I'm not staying in loony town any longer.

"Look, I don't know what you want from me nor do I know what you want me to say or do, but I honestly don't know what you're talking about." I look around the room. "Or why I'm here. To be honest, I don't belong in this city. I'm just a girl who fell from the sky and traveled back in—"

My voice suddenly cuts out, and my throat clenches tightly. I rise and so does the sentinel in front of me, mouth hacking as air escapes my lungs. It's as if someone's got my throat wrapped around their fingers, but without actually having any hold on me.

"Mademoiselle?"

'No one must know you're a user,' a familiar, female voice echoes. It blurs the commotion that's happening beyond me. 'If you do, I'll take your life and everyone who finds out what you are.'

"Madem—" The nonexistent grip on my neck loosens, knees buckling from shock before I fall into the arms of the metal-shrouded man next to me.

"Dammit," I curse. An inkling inside of my stomach causes me to wonder if death is the only route for me to take in this stupid adventure of mine. It makes me wonder if my inevitable end game would result with me seven feet below the ground.

Just the thought of it pisses me off. After all, I didn't wish to be here.

I didn't wish to be stuck in some fantasy, time-traveling novel where my ultimatum would be death or death.

The sentinel helps me upright, his lips exchanging words with his colleagues in the shadows. His head then turns to me, lifting his metal sheath to reveal a charming, soft-looking man.

"Are you really not part of the Red Poppies Division?" He asks, earthy eyes analyzing my truths and lies. "Do you really not know who Raphael Downing is?"

"No," I say with conviction. "I don't know who the hell he is, who you are, or anyone in this damn region. Like I said, I don't belong here. I don't even know why I'm here."

A moment passes without another word exchanged between us. The way he bears holes into my soul flusters me, making me want to avert my eyes. But I know if I do, I'll lose credibility with my words. And that's the last thing I want to do if I'm going to escape this time period.

The sentinel is the first one to look away. "I believe you, Mademoiselle." His tongue switches to another language, bellowing for the other sentinels to file out of the dungeon. He turns to me. "I believe you enough to release you temporarily. Of course, you will remain under heavy supervision until we discern whether or not you are a threat to His Highness."

His repeated mention of this 'Highness' person brews a feeling within me that our paths will one day cross in the future.

How wonderful.

"His Highness is wonderful, indeed," the sentinel chuckles.

I frown. "From the looks of it, you're as much of a great liar as you thought me to be. You definitely know how to read minds, don't you."

"I'm just good at reading people," he replies. He turns to me, hand out for a handshake. "I'm Lieutenant Damien Boice, by the way."

"I don't think we're close enough to introduce ourselves just yet," I answer, staring him down.

"But I think it would be beneficial if you do." He takes my hand in his, raising it up to his thin lips for a kiss. "After all, I, too, have an inkling that our paths will continue to cross later on."

I cringe, shoving off his grip. "I'll make sure it doesn't." His action is real corny for sure, but it flustered me as I have never experienced such a gesture before.

I suddenly have the burning urge to slap myself for thinking that it was quite adorable.

"Are you not accustomed to this, Mademoiselle?"

"We do handshakes not hand kisses in where I'm from," I remark.

"How strange," he comments. "It makes me wonder about your origins. I'm sure if you have nothing to hide, you would allow me to conduct a background research, right?"

I scoff. "Go ahead. But I'm pretty sure you won't find anything."

Because I never existed here in the first place.

Damien tilts his head. "How interesting."

"Lieutenant!" A voice from the end of the dungeon calls. "The arrangements have been set."

"Oh, what perfect timing." Damien holds out his hand, beckoning for me to take it. "I think that's our cue to leave, mysterious Mademoiselle of unbeknownst origins."

"What? Leave for where?"

"Your new apartment, of course."

I blink.

You've got to be kidding me.