"So, who are you? And where's the real Mira?"
Evelyn's question practically paralyzed me.
Instantly, a hundred and one excuses popped into my head—classic isekai-style:
I'm the secret daughter of a neighboring king, or I'm actually an ancient dragon trapped in a maid's body.
None of them sounded convincing. Not even in my own head.
A Hundred and One Excuses to Not Get Burned at the Stake — by Saya.
Looks like I've got no way out…
I mentally confessed, took a deep breath, and braced myself.
"Okay, Evelyn, you caught me. I'm not Mira—I'm Saya. And… you'd better sit down, this is going to take a while."
Evelyn, to her credit, actually sat at the table, and I launched into my life story like it was another overlong manga exposition flashback.
At first, her face was pure confusion, like she couldn't decide if I was joking or if she needed to fetch a healer—fast.
Then came bewilderment, the kind that made her look like she was searching for a "skip intro" button.
Only after all that did her gaze turn focused, like she was finally, actually listening.
"And that's the end of my story."
Silence fell so heavy in the kitchen that I could hear the tick of the old clock as its hand lurched forward.
And then, in true horror-movie fashion, something clicked above me. The knife I'd accidentally flung into the ceiling earlier chose that moment to fall, landing point-first right into the cutting board in front of me… and, I swear, winked at me.
I stared, stunned, at my own shell-shocked reflection in the blade.
Then glanced at Evelyn. She wasn't looking at me, but at the knife. Then, with one eye, at me. Her silence was louder than any scolding.
She was eyeing me like you'd eye a suspicious cupcake at a school bake sale.
"So, in other words, you're not Mira, but you're in her body. And you're not from this world, right?"
I nodded slowly, confirming her words. Another heavy silence.
Say something already! I can't take a second awkward pause!
"What's… Japan? And what's a metropolis?"
Evelyn's eyes suddenly sparkled with real curiosity, like I'd just mentioned some secret magical artifact.
I let out a breath of relief. At least she'd stopped looking at me like the prime suspect in a coup.
"Japan is an island country where people eat sushi, live super-organized lives… but somehow still end up in chaos."
"A metropolis is a huge city, like an ant farm, where everyone is always rushing somewhere and it's noisy, even at night."
Evelyn looked genuinely overwhelmed by this information dump.
"And people really live there… all together?"
She asked like I'd just described dragons who love playing chess.
"Yep. All together—and, sometimes, we even survive it."
If only you knew how many people dream of escaping a metropolis to a fantasy world like yours…
She gave me the look you usually reserve for people who start their day talking to furniture.
Though, in this world, that might be normal.
Evelyn fell silent again, drumming her fingers on the table.
"Well, at least you're not a spy sent to keep tabs on me."
Her voice had a distinct edge of sarcasm.
A moment later, she stood, closing the distance between us to something dangerously intimate.
In a movement so quick I didn't even have time to blink, Evelyn grabbed me by the collar and yanked me in close—almost nose to nose.
Her eyes, up close, looked even more icy and deep—like the winter sky on a polar night.
"Because if you were an enemy… your life would end right here."
Her voice was so cold I got goosebumps all over.
"Thank you for… your trust."
I managed with the fakest smile ever, cold sweat trickling down my spine.
I take it back. The knife wasn't the scariest thing in this kitchen—SHE was.
Evelyn let me go, and I immediately stepped back—just in case.
Still shaky, I couldn't help but ask:
"Why did you even believe me? Why give me a chance?"
Evelyn sank back into her chair. Her eyes reflected exhaustion—not just from a long day, but from what looked like a lifetime of disappointment.
Her voice was soft, but with that fragile honesty you almost never hear:
"Trust me… when you've spent your whole life being treated like nothing, when you've felt like a stranger in your own home for years…"
She stared at the empty table.
"At some point, strangeness stops surprising you. And pain just becomes normal."
She exhaled, like shedding a heavy blanket.
Then she looked at me—and for a moment, there was a whole different light in her eyes.
The kind kids get when they see a new toy at Christmas. Genuine curiosity, and a glimmer of hope.
"Although, you're certainly… unusual. But honestly, kind of fascinating."
Her tone softened, her lips twitching at the edge of a smile.
But in the next second, Evelyn shook her head as if to chase away her feelings and returned to her cold, distant stare, like nothing had happened.
"As long as you don't betray me, I don't care who you are or where you're from," she added with a small smile. But I could still hear the exhaustion—and the hurt—lingering in her voice and gaze.
For the first time, I saw her differently. Not as the arrogant aristocrat I'd imagined.
But as a girl who'd had to endure way too much.
"So… what should I do now?"
"If you want to survive, just act normal. Don't tell anyone who you are or where you're from. As far as everyone's concerned, you're Mira."
"Got it. No one will learn my secret!"
I nodded seriously, like an anime heroine before the final arc.
Evelyn just sighed, as if she was already bracing for disaster.
"And… be careful around spirits. They can see the true nature of your soul."
She glanced at Su, who had suddenly materialized right on the table like a tiny fluffy ghost.
Wait… that ball of fluff with paws is a SPIRIT?!
For a split second, I saw my own reflection in his big brown eyes—not this new, unfamiliar face, but the real me, from my old life.
"I'll keep that in mind."
I muttered, unable to look away from him.
Evelyn sighed and added with a faint smile,
"And please, no more of your 'deep cleaning' episodes. They stand out way too much."
"I'll try, milady!"
I replied, almost cheerfully, as if I'd just unlocked the achievement "Official Member of the Weirdness Squad."
But just then, I remembered one small but worrying detail.
"By the way, Ev—um, Lady Evelyn, that… bump on my forehead—was that your doing with the teapot?"
I awkwardly lifted my bangs to show the lump I'd been hiding.
For a second, something sharp flashed in Evelyn's eyes. She silently approached, gently moved my hair aside, and examined the bruise.
She looked momentarily irritated, as if someone had touched her belongings without permission.
"No, that wasn't me. Go treat your wound and get some rest. We'll talk later."
She turned on her heel, scooped Su into her arms, and left the kitchen.
I was left alone, absently rubbing my forehead—finally feeling truly exhausted.
If it wasn't Evelyn… then who hit me?