DeathStorm

Okay, deep breaths, Aida. You are not in a slave cage. You are not being haggled over like a particularly stubborn pack animal. You are in a ridiculously fancy room, surrounded by people who bow when you walk by and call you 'Your Highness'. Progress? Debatable.

I was scrubbed to within an inch of my life, and stuffed into a luxurious dress that I can't stop my hand from touching, marveling at the feel of it. My hair brushed and freed from it's usual ponytail, curling down my shoulders, down my back.

My new chambers were less a room and more an entire wing of the palace, all polished dark stone, glowing floral arrangements that smelled faintly of cinnamon and regret, and furniture that looked carved from solidified moonlight. There were silken robes that shimmered with captured light, closets full of clothes I couldn't figure out how to put on without help, and a bed that was wider than my entire apartment.

The attendants, a small army of quiet, efficient individuals from various races I still couldn't fully categorize, hovered constantly. They seemed genuinely thrilled I was back, their faces alight with deference and relief. It was awkward. Massively awkward. When you know, deep down, you're just Aida from the bottom-dark, whose most complex morning routine involved hitting the snooze button four times?

"Is there anything else, Your Highness?" the young woman with beautiful, tan skin asked, holding out a tray of what looked like candied jewels.

"Uh, no, thank you, Jaeli," I said, remembering her name from the flurry of introductions. "I'm just going to stare blankly at the wall for a bit. It's a hobby of mine."

Her smile was polite, if confused. "As you wish, Your Highness. We shall be just outside if you require anything."

'Just outside' meant they were literally a foot away from the door, probably listening for the slightest hint of a royal sigh. It was the most luxurious form of surveillance I could imagine. A gilded cage, exactly as I'd thought.

Better than the iron one, obviously. But the sheer weight of expectations, the constant performance of being someone I wasn't it was exhausting. Every conversation was a minefield. I had to pretend to remember things I didn't, react to people I'd never met as if they were long-lost friends, and navigate social customs that made zero sense. I almost asked one of the older advisors if bowing involved touching your nose to your knees, just to see what he'd do

The Queen, my supposed mother, was difficult to shake off, It's strange with all this maternal smothering. She would gaze at me with such intense love and sorrow in her amber eyes, tell me stories about my 'childhood' that were utterly foreign, and reach for me with a desperate tenderness that twisted something in my gut. It wasn't her fault she thought I was her daughter, but every loving look, every shared 'memory' was a fresh stab of grief for my real family, my real life. It made me feel like an imposter, a cruel cosmic joke played on a grieving mother.

"Do you remember the Whispering Falls, Jiyoo?" she'd asked during breakfast one morning, her voice soft. "How you used to spend hours sketching the light filtering through the water?"

I choked on my glowing fruit. "Uh, no, Your Majesty. My artistic talents extend to stick figures and occasionally drawing a passable cat."

She just smiled sadly. "Perhaps trauma has clouded those specific memories. They will return, in time."

Or maybe I wasn't there because I was busy perfecting the art of trying to survive in the bottom-dark, Mother.

I thought, resisting the urge to say it out loud. It was this constant, exhausting tightrope walk between trying not to completely alienate them and trying not to lose my own mind by pretending to be someone else.

Princess Jiyoo, the real one, disappeared during a raging sandstorm. It wasn't just a kidnapping; it was a catastrophe near the palace borders It was a lot to unpack.

And that brought me to the real problem. If I was a substitute? Was she just gone? Or had she been eliminated? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I had to know. Not just because it was the key to understanding my own impossible situation, but because the idea of some intricate, decades-long plot still lurking in these gilded halls felt genuinely dangerous. If the conspirators thought their plan was being undone by my appearance, would they try again?

This was where the system came back in. My secret weapon, the only proof I wasn't completely bonkers, or, at least, that my bonkers was externally validated.

Okay, System, I thought, settling onto the plush cushion of a star-light carved bench in my chambers, making sure everyone is out of earshot. New query. Historical data on Princess Jiyoo of Ru'hun. Specifically, events leading up to and including her disappearance. Any mention of assassination attempts, political rivals, or specific individuals involved in the incident.

[Query: Historical Data Retrieval Princess Jiyoo of Ru'hun, Disappearance Event.] [Accessing Archived Records… Fragmented data detected.] [Princess Jiyoo: Designated heir to the Ru'hun Throne. Known for… (Data Corrupted/Sealed). Disappeared during Anomalous Event AE-7B, designated 'Ru'hun deathstorm', approx. 1 Standard cycle prior.]

 [Leading Theories: Abduction by hostile entities. Seizure and hiding by internal political faction.]

[Known Individuals Associated with AE-7B Circumstances: Grand Vizier Valerius (Current Commander Joon – Loyal). High Councillor Nebel (Current High Councillor – Loyal).

Lord Regent Vorlag (Status: Deceased. Circumstances of death: Unclear/Sealed). Lady Elara (Status: Unknown. Associated with… (Data Corrupted/Sealed)).]

 [Assassination Attempts on Princess Jiyoo prior to AE-7B: Documented instances (3). Methods: Poison, Sabotage, … (Data Corrupted/Sealed).] [Conspiracy Allegations: Pervasive. No definitive perpetrator identified in accessible records.]

"One cycle?" I muttered, mentally converting based on snippets of historical info I'd picked up. Cycles seemed to be roughly equivalent to years. So, she disappeared one year ago. And there were three documented assassination attempts before the big event? Yikes. This princess gig was apparently hazardous to your health.

And Lord Regent Vorlag, deceased under unclear circumstances? Lady Elara, status unknown, linked to… something corrupted? This smelled less like an unfortunate magical accident and more like a power struggle gone horribly wrong. Nebel and Joon were listed as loyal, which aligned with them searching for me, but what about everyone else in the palace? The other advisors? The powerful nobles?

My inner historian perked up, despite the terrifying context. This was a genuine, unsolved historical mystery! With potentially deadly present-day implications.

 Ah, yes, nothing like a bit of light treason and attempted regicide to liven up your day after being transmigrated.

I knew I couldn't just ask outright about Vorlag or Lady Elara. Not yet. People were wary, and my questions about my own supposed past already made them look at me like I had two heads. I needed to be subtle. Observe, listen, and prod the system for context when I overheard something.

I started spending time in the palace library, a vast, echoing space filled with scrolls, books bound in strange materials, and glowing crystal data archives. I told my attendants I was trying to 'reconnect with the history of my people,' which earned me approving nods and the occasional sad smile about my 'lost memories'.

I scanned historical accounts, focusing on the period leading up to my disappearance. Dates, names, political factions. The system, accessed discreetly, helped translate archaic terms and cross-referenced names that popped up. Lord Regent Vorlag appeared frequently in records from that time a powerful figure, appointed regent during a period when the Queen and King were incapacitated by grief, according to one account. He seemed to have consolidated a lot of power. His death, according to public records, was attributed to a sudden illness, but the system's note about 'unclear/sealed' circumstances was suspicious.

Lady Elara was harder to find information on. Her name surfaced occasionally in court records, often associated with diplomatic missions or cultural events. But anything linking her directly to the Princess or the Incursion was, as the system put it, 'Corrupted/Sealed'. Convenient.

I also paid close attention to conversations, using the system's language function to pick up snippets of gossip and hushed discussions among the court members and even the higher-ranking servants. There were whispers about the past, about 'unsettled scores,' about certain families who had gained prominence after the Princess disappeared and Vorlag's death. Paranoia? Maybe. But given the three assassination attempts, I wasn't taking chances.

One evening, during a formal dinner an elaborate, multi-course affair involving food that sometimes pulsed with faint light, I overheard two older nobles speaking in low tones.

"The Vorlag family still holds considerable influence, even after his passing," one murmured, sipping from a goblet that seemed to hold swirling liquid stars.

"Influence bought with ill-gotten gains, some say," the other replied, glancing around cautiously. "They benefited greatly from the Princess's absence."

Benefited from the Princess's absence, I repeated internally. Classic motive. Power, wealth, political advancement. My system hummed faintly, cross-referencing 'Vorlag family' with 'Political Factions' and 'Beneficiaries of AE-7B'. The connection was clear.

I decided to take a risk. The next day, I sought out High Councillor Nebel. He was a busy man, managing the affairs of the realm, but he always made time for 'Her Highness'.

"High Councillor," I began, trying to sound curious and contemplative, rather than like a detective. "I've been reading some of the historical accounts about the time before before I was lost." I winced internally at using their narrative, but it was the only way to get information. "Lord Regent Vorlag he seemed very prominent then. What kind of man was he?"

Lorien's expression became guarded. "Lord Regent Vorlag was a capable man, Your Highness. He steered the realm during a difficult period."

"And his death?" I pressed gently. "The records mention a sudden illness. It must have been quite unexpected."

He paused, his eyes searching mine. "Unexpected, yes. A tragedy for his family. The healers could do nothing."

He wasn't giving me anything concrete, but his evasiveness spoke volumes. And the system's note about the 'unclear/sealed' circumstances of his death echoed in my mind. He hadn't just died. He'd been dealt with.

My investigation was like piecing together a puzzle with half the pieces missing and the other half potentially being actively hidden. There was a conspiracy. It involved powerful people. It led to the disappearance and perhaps death of Princess Jiyoo. And it benefited certain individuals or families, like the Vorlags.

The danger felt more real now. I wasn't just a lost girl in a strange land anymore. I was an unwitting stand-in, a living symbol of a past crime, surrounded by people who might have been involved, or who benefited from it. My gilded cage was starting to feel very thin.

That night, alone in my ridiculously oversized bed, I stared up at the ceiling, the stars swirling above. I missed my cramped apartment, the comforting predictability of my old life. This world was beautiful, yes, filled with wonder and magic, but it was also steeped in old secrets and potential betrayals.

I was Aida , artefact appraiser, accidental transmigrator, and now, reluctant detective in a fantasy kingdom. I didn't know who the real Princess Jiyoo was, or exactly what happened to her. But I was starting to get a picture of who might have wanted her gone. And until I figured out the full story and hopefully, found a way back home I had to keep playing the part. And watch my back. Because the people who erased the princess might not hesitate to erase her again, well me now. My survival, and perhaps even my chance of returning back to Gaurab city depended on uncovering the truth.