I didn’t notice it right away when I entered into the world of a book I read.


    I did feel a niggling sense of unease, and I often wondered why the people and places around me seemed so unfamiliar. But, if anything, I assumed it meant I was coming down with a cold.


    Then, one week into living as Linnea Corydalis, I remembered everything. The memories of my former life flooded in all at once.


    It was not a busy day, so I was in my room by the window, flipping idly through a dress catalogue when it happened. The floodgates opened, and it all came rushing back. Numbness swept over me. The catalogue slipped out of my hands and landed on the marble floor with a loud thwap!


    “Goodness!” Flossie gasped. “My lady, are you alright?”


    For a moment I looked at her uncomprehendingly. A young woman in a long beige dress and white lace trim apron stood beside a dresser. Like a clock ticking back to life after factory reset, I slowly recalled Flossie as being one of my maids. One of my maids? My mind turned that phrase over again, struck by its incongruity. In the real world, I lived in a sharehouse along with three other students to save money on rent. Growing up, my mum drilled into me the importance of carrying your own weight and valuing the work of others. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to be self-reliant.


    “Flossie,” I stammered. “A-Are you being paid well?”


    The words left my lips before I had time to think better of them.


    Flossie’s complexion whitened, her mouth twitching with discomfort. I’d been in such a daze that I said out loud the first thing that came to mind. But a question like that, especially posed so point-blank, posed a mental minefield for someone in her position. The class divide between us was too vast to allow her the comfort of an honest answer. I’d been careless.


    “You don’t need to answer that actually,” I hastened to say, discomfort pricking. “On second thought, I don’t think I’m feeling well. You are excused, Flossie. I would like a moment to rest.”


    A brief flicker of confusion crossed her face, but she quickly smoothed her expression back to normal. “Of course, my lady,” she said, ducking her head and dropping a polite curtsy. “Would you like for me to call you a physician?”


    “No, that won’t be necessary. Rest is all I need.”


    “Of course, my lady.”


    With a polite but emotionally distant smile, she followed my instruction and departed the room. The door closed silently behind her.


    With a strangled breath, I jumped from my seat and rushed to a mirror. I knew what I’d find, but it still shocked me to see a stranger’s face looking back at me.


    Linnea’s black hair was thick and glossy, piled into an intricately braided updo. Her eyes were the colour of cold steel. At first glance her body appeared slender and delicate, but I could feel a firm layer of muscle supporting me. Her face was narrower than mine. The sharp angle of her chin and the severeness in her resting expression both gave off the impression of a “cool beauty”. She looks like someone who doesn’t smile much, I thought while touching my fingers to the corner of my mouth.


    My real body couldn’t have looked like this if I tried. With my round cheeks, short stature and tendency to smile when I’m uncomfortable, nobody would ever have thought to be intimidated by me. When I tried to smile now, it looked inescapably sinister.


    Feeling very shaky, I shuffled over to my bed—Linnea’s bed, my mind corrected—and sank into it. Pulling the covers up to my chin self-soothingly, I consulted the facts.


    What I know:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400"> Somehow, I’ve been transported into the body of Linnea Corydalis.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400"> I’ve been here for a week now.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400"> I don’t remember how I got here, or why.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400"> This world appears to be based on a fictional story. Specifically, the novel ‘The Crown Prince is (not) a Puppet’.</li>


    </ul>


    ‘The Crown Prince is (not) a Puppet’ is a romance fantasy novel. I don’t usually read romance, but a friend recommended it to me, so I gave it a go. The novel’s plot follows the main character of Crown Prince Isidor as he attempts to wrest back power from the ducal households.


    Though the common people of the nation believe their King holds all power, in reality, he has served as little more than a puppet figurehead for the past century. All true authority rests solely in the hands of the four ducal households. House Foltis, in the south, thrives on wealth cultivated from its expansive agricultural projects and robust trade networks.To the east, House Stannan is renowned for producing the kingdom’s most formidable knights. In the west, House Merrith boasts an expansive historical archive and a prestigious university that nurtures the brightest minds in the realm. Finally, House Corydalis, the wealthiest of the four, monopolises the many gemstone mines found throughout the mountainous northern region.


    Whenever a new royal heir reaches adulthood, an intense power struggle ensues, as each ducal house vies for the chance to marry one of their children to the crown prince or princess. The house who successfully arranges this marriage gains an invaluable foothold within the Palace and will be best positioned to wield power over the other three in the decades to follow.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    That’s where I come in.


    Linnea, the daughter of Duke and Duchess Corydalis, was betrothed to Crown Prince Isidor. They first met as young children, and continued to meet regularly at the Palace. Over the years, Linnea tormented the prince with her twisted personality and her warped idea of “love”.


    After demons began to appear in the kingdom, the nobles only concerned themselves with their own safety, leaving the common folk to suffer. The Crown Prince, who had been secretly escaping the Palace to masquerade as a commoner, became a folk hero when he stepped up to protect them. With the aid of his loyal crew of commoner mercenaries, he fought against the encroaching demon forces. It was during this time of strife and battle that he fell in love with a girl named Permelia.


    The story ended with the Crown Prince Isidor regaining power, dissolving all of the ducal households, and breaking off his engagement with Linnea to instead marry for love. His decision to marry a commoner was doubly significant for what it represented—a dissolution of unfair hierarchies and the start of a new era.


    As for Linnea…


    Like the rest of her family, Linnea was stripped of her wealth and title. With her betrothal reneged, she winded up penniless and alone to later die offscreen. Her absence in the final chapters of the novel barely registered for me as a reader, but now that I’m Linnea Corydalis, her future prospects filled me with dread.


    Was I destined to die?


    Stewing in my panic and uncertainty, that was when I first began concocting a plan by which to escape Linnea’s miserable fated end.


    I can only improve my standing with Isidor so much, even with a complete personality change. He won’t ever trust me. The best I can hope for is a future where he no longer actively hates me. It helps that I know exactly what he wants most in this world –freedom. Surrounded by spies and watched constantly, he is only rarely able to escape notice long enough to slip out the Palace gates and fulfil his duties as a commoner folk hero. It''s been a few days now since the crown prince and I met at the Palace and agreed to the terms of my proposed deal. I knew he''d be willing to bargain with me if I offered him an opportunity for greater freedom. Linnea would never offer something without asking for something in return though, so I had to think of something.


    I wasn’t lying when I said I was more interested in Prince Florian. As a character in the novel, he only made a few appearances, but I treasured each and every one. Florian was not as ambitious as his brother, nor as politically savvy as his sister. But he was kind, brave, and intensely loyal. Because he was ignored so often, he spent a lot of his youth in the library, and he grew to be very knowledgeable in a wide range of topics. His insights were even crucial in ensuring the crown prince’s eventual success.


    And, most importantly, he was very cute.


    One of the biggest reasons I avoided reading romance in the past was because the love interests were always so aggressively masculine. My tastes lie in the polar opposite direction. I like cute, adorable people—gender is irrelevant.


    The leading couple in most romance novels is always made up of a dainty little woman and a brick shithouse of a man who towers over her in stature and is absolutely yoked to the point of ridiculousness.


    I’ve never read a romance novel with a male lead like Florian (if I had, I might''ve cultivated more of an interest in the genre). He was described as petite and delicate-looking, with a vaguely androgynous appearance and shoulder length wavy hair. I don’t know if he’ll be different when I meet him in person, but I needed an excuse to make a deal with the crown prince anyway.


    I’m not actually expecting Florian to fall for me, but through “courting” him, I at least stand a good chance at gaining an ally and a friend for myself. Such a feat would be impossible with Isidor.


    ***


    The Corydalis Duke and Duchess have breakfast with their children every morning. Platters of food are spread out lavishly upon a table large enough to seat a small army, but only four places are laid. I sit beside my younger brother—Linnea’s brother—Arwin, opposite our parents.


    For such a cutthroat family, the Corydalis'' deeply value familial bonding. As Duke Corydalis is known to say, ''the bonds forged by blood are strongest of all''. His reputation in the novel as a sadistic hedonist feels dizzyingly at odds with the doting father who sits before me now.


    "I''m so glad to see you looking more yourself again," the Duke tells me warmly.


    "Of course," the Duchess chuckles, exchanging a fond glance with her husband. "I told you she was just missing that boy of hers."


    It suits their interests well that their daughter was so infatuated with the crown prince. It suits me well too, because they would never suspect Linnea of doing anything to jeopardise their betrothal.


    "Yes, I am feeling much better. Thank you, Mother, Father."


    I still don''t entirely know how to talk to them. Before, when I didn''t yet remember who I was, it was confusing to feel so distant from them. Now, I am hyper aware of every interaction lest they figure out I am not who they think I am.


    I pick at the salad on my plate without much interest, using my fork to roll a cherry tomato back and forth. I haven''t yet gotten used to eating a full meal so early in the day. In the past, often I skipped breakfast.


    “Did seeing the prince really make you feel better?” Arwin teases. Then his voice raises pitch, taking on a falsetto I can only assume is meant to imitate me. “Oh, Isidor, tell me how pretty I am? Kiss my feet while you''re at it. Isido—"


    “That is enough,” the Duke reprimands sharply, setting his knife and fork down firmly enough to rattle the crockery. “As a family, we must have each other’s backs. That is the only way our house has survived. I will not have my children at odds.”


    “I was only joking,” Arwin mumbles, kicking his feet glumly. He shoots me a pouty look. “Sorry, sister.”


    My heart warms at the sight of his half-hearted contrition. As a former only child, I cannot help but find his antics endlessly endearing. Arwin is seven years younger than Linnea. At only ten, he is a child. In my world, he would have been allowed to act his age. Here though, children are expected to grow up early.


    “Our Linn knows her duty,” the Duchess says sternly. The food on her plate looks barely touched, and she appears to be eating her rice one grain at a time. Still, there is fondness in her expression when she looks at me. Fondness, and weighty expectation. "You must remember to keep an eye on the prince always. If he does anything suspicious, report it to me at once."


    I force myself to return her smile, a chill skittering down my spine. "Yes, Mother. I will."


    "I''m glad that you and your fiance get along so well." The Duchess sighs. "But do not let your feelings for him cloud your judgment. The prince is a tool to be used, nothing more."


    "Yes, Mother."