"Oh, I like this one!" Flossy says, clapping her hands together excitably.


    I turn my head over my shoulder, examining myself in the full-body mirror as the seamstress’ assistant fiddles with the hemline of the dress I am currently trying on. Shopping as a noble is an activity that more often than not does not require one to leave their home, as I’ve learned. Miss Chantrea is the seamstress most commonly employed by house Corydalis. She and her assistant arrived early this morning with an array of fabrics, sample books, and a sliding rack of try-on designs all for my perusal.


    The dress I am currently wearing is black and features an embroidered velvet open-front bodice and pearl-studded stomacher, with a wide, multi-layered skirt. The neckline is low enough to reveal a few millimetres of lace-lined chemise underneath. The sleeves are bell-shaped, cinching tightly at the wrist, and have purposeful slashes at the elbows to showcase white ruffle padding underneath.


    The young woman staring back at me from the mirror looks elegant in this dress, yes. But she also looks even more of a stranger than usual.


    Most dresses in this world are so elaborate that they require an extra person to help put them on. There are multiple layers of underclothing involved. First are the stays, chemise, and corselet, followed by a minimum of two petticoats (more for larger skirted dresses), an underdress, and only then the gown itself. An overgrown may be added on top of this. In colder months, it is common to wear a surcoat and cloak too.


    When I first encountered a corset in this world, I assumed it would be the worst of my clothing-related worries. They seemed like they would be painful to wear every day. But honestly, it’s more comfortable than a modern-day bra. The endless layering is what gets tedious.


    That said, I suppose it is pretty cool having all tailored clothing. Everything I own now fits me perfectly.


    “Hmm,” I frown, fluffing the skirt exploratorily. The tulle in my four petticoats puffs out like a cloud. I can only imagine myself knocking over everything in sight. “Must they all be so… puffy?” I lament. “Miss Chantrea, do you not have any dresses with a slimmer design?”


    "This is the most popular style in current fashion. I can assure you that you would be the envy of everyone''s eye in this design," Miss Chantrea explains. She taps a pencil thoughtfully against her chin. Flicking through her design book, her gaze alights on something. "Ah, but perhaps this is more in line with the lady''s wishes?"


    She turns her book towards me to show me the design. I step down from my little raised platform to take a closer look. Immediately, I notice that this dress has a slimmer silhouette. It requires only one petticoat made of brocade. The gown itself is lilac-coloured velvet, featuring a sweetheart neckline and hanging sleeves that are open to the shoulder and secured at the elbows with pink ribbon. The colour is much softer in tone than anything else I’ve been shown today, which I take to mean the original Linnea preferred a darker colour palette. The powder pink ribbon detailing reminds me of Florian, and because of that I decide this is definitely the dress I want.


    “This one,” I confirm. “I’d like you to make this dress for me.”


    Flossy moves closer to also sneak a glance at the design. “Are you certain, my lady?” she asks me, her tone cautious. “Of course, you will look enchanting in anything, but… this is very different to what you usually wear?”


    Briefly, uncertainty spikes under my ribcage. Maybe Flossy is right? I resolved to not stray too far from Linnea’s established personality and behaviour. Perhaps it would be simpler—safer—to just wear whatever I am recommended?


    It’s just one thing, though. Surely the Linnea of the past also changed her mind from time to time. Who''s to say she wouldn''t have developed an interest in a different fashion style on her own? I spend so much time pretending. Let this be at least one decision I make as myself.


    “I like this one,” I repeat more firmly.


    Flossy, adaptable and clever as always, quickly switches tune. “It does have a very elegant shape,” she says, as if the thought just occurred to her. “I imagine everyone will want one just like it after you make your appearance at the Princess’ ball.”


    I still don’t really know how to interact with Flossy. We can’t be friends, not only because she is employed by my family, but also because this hierarchical society doesn’t consider us equals. As a lady-in-waiting to a duke’s daughter, her position is more prestigious than that of a typical maid, which means she isn’t a commoner. I believe Flossy is of minor nobility, perhaps the daughter of a baron or a viscount? Even that divide is too vast to cross, however. The quick turns she is able to manifest whenever she notices popular opinion shifting slightly outside her favour tells me more than I wish to know about how much of a hair-trigger the original Linnea lived on. I can’t be myself around her, but I don’t wish to emulate Linnea either.


    Miss Chantrea’s eyes become big. “That is a fascinating thought, Flossy,” she says slowly. “Lady Linnea is indeed in an ideal position to become a trendsetter, especially in my dress.”If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    After that, Miss Chantrea prepares a quote. The prospect of fame and honour has ignited a fervent enthusiasm in her that puts a bounce in her step as we part ways. The numbers on the page she handed me mean absolutely nothing to me. But I suspect the amount of zeros qualifies this as a luxurious expenditure.


    The Corydalis’ finances are managed by the Chancellor, Sir Morris. When I present Miss Chantrea’s quote to him, he does not so much as bat an eye at the price. So perhaps it isn’t as large a number as I thought? Or, more likely, the Corydalis family is just that wealthy.


    “Ah, before I forget,” I turn to Flossy. “Could you send Prince Isidore a letter informing him of my choice of attire for the ball? It would be best if he could select an outfit that compliments mine.”


    “Of course, my lady,” Flossy responds, dutiful and emotionless as ever.


    Once the hour reaches late morning, my lessons begin. At this age, the curriculum mostly primarily focuses on social training, courtly etiquette, marriage preparation, and household estate management skills—with the aim of arming me with the skills I will need to survive in the turbulent Palace social scene. After lunch comes a period called “project hour”, during which I am expected to engage in some kind of creative hobby. Embroidery turned out to be more enjoyable than I expected, so I usually choose that.


    My schedule becomes blissfully free in the afternoon, finally allowing me to do what I want. Usually, my lessons aren’t too taxing. Today though, all I have been able to think about is rushing straight to the library to look for books on magic.


    I had found the library exceedingly helpful in the first few days adjusting to being Linnea. I was able to gather a decent-ish foundation of knowledge about the history of this kingdom and its major social norms. After that, I looked around for novels—only to find a depressing lack of fictional works. In total, there were four novels in the entire library—three intended for children and one startlingly raunchy romance novel. None piqued my interest.


    Did Linnea visit the library? Perhaps she also liked to read? These are questions I know I will probably never learn the answers to.


    “Aha!” I exclaim, coming upon a section marked ‘Magical Theory’.


    I scan the titles eagerly, looking for phrases like ‘beginners guide to…’ or ‘the basics of…’. After I pick out a few titles that seem promising, I plop myself down at a reading table and begin to read.


    In this world, magic is categorized into five main types: elemental, healing, offensive, enchantment, and abjuration. It is more common for individuals to specialize in one specific school of magic rather than being a jack of all trades. The ability to harness magic is inherent and depends on how much aether a person possesses. However, those with limited aether can supplement their magical abilities through various means, such as summoning demon familiars, forming warlock pacts, or using magical stones. It is also technically possible to steal magic from another person, though this practice is highly frowned upon and is no longer commonly taught in this day and age.


    Most regular people do not have sufficient aether to learn magic and find any use in it. While those with large amounts of natural aether often choose to devote their lives to the cultivation and perfection of their magical practice at a place called the Witch’s Tower.


    The Witch’s Tower is technically a kind of scholars’ guild. It is notable as one of the very few independent organisations not beholden to imperial jurisdiction. They are incredibly secretive and difficult to intercept. This term is actually one I already know. In the novel, Prince Isidore (while under his commoner mercenary alias) successfully allied his group of rebels with the Witch''s Tower.


    My eyes are glazing over at this point, sliding over the words so that I have to reread certain passages two or three times. As interesting as the content is, it is still a lot of reading to do in one sitting. The last time I did this much non-fiction reading it was because I was cramming for a test.


    The evening begins to pull the sun down toward the horizon as I am flipping through the pages of the third book. Golden light floods the space.


    This book seems more practical. As the hour creeps closer to dinner—when I must leave to join my family in the dining hall—I feel a sharpening edge of frustration. Before I run out of time, I am determined to find a passage that mentions how one is to know how much aether they possess.


    I cannot help but hold my breath and cross my fingers in ardent hope that Linnea might have enough natural aether to allow me to learn magic.


    The light dips lower and lower.


    I am skimming through pages so quickly that I nearly miss the page on aether. Flicking back, I suck in a bated breath.


    ‘Aether is an element of the natural world, present in varying concentrations within all living things. For those with very little aether, magic will prove difficult to learn. Likewise,  those  born with a higher concentration of natural aether typically find it much easier.


    To measure the amount of aether naturally present in a person''s body, a qualified practitioner may perform a level reading. If this is not feasible, an alternative method  can be performed using a silver dish, a drop of the person''s blood, two spoonfuls of water, and moonlight.


    To conduct the test, mix the blood and water in the silver dish and then hold the dish directly under moonlight. If there is a sufficient amount of aether, the surface of the mixture will exhibit a shade of gold. A more vibrant shade of gold indicates a higher concentration of aether present in the blood.


    To further test aptitude in—''


    "My Lady," a voice calls.


    Darn.


    I reluctantly pull my attention from the words on the page to the young maid at the library''s entrance. I don’t know this girl''s name. I wonder if she is new? She does not look much older than Arwin. It really is heartbreaking how short a childhood the children in this world are allowed. Her posture is rigid and anxious, and she clasps her hands together with a white knuckled grip. "Your presence is requested at the dining table."


    Casting my pile of books a last longing gaze, I sigh. "Yes, I''m coming."


    I have what I need now, anyway. Tonight, as soon as I am alone, I''ll know what to do.