Reborn for the Prince

“What on earth is happening?” I asked, stunned, as I found myself in a scene that seemed to have leapt from the pages of a twisted fairy tale.

A stern-faced lady, carrying the haughtiness of someone who sees herself above the world, watched with disdain. Beside her, a young woman dressed in garish, tasteless clothing mistreated a maid. The maid, with slightly teary brown eyes and blonde hair hastily tied with a worn-out scarf, wore a faded dress, nearly in tatters. Yet there was something serene about her. Dignity radiated from her upright posture and restrained movements. Despite the worn clothes, her body was clean, and she wore simple but intact shoes, standing in contrast with the rest of her appearance.

"You clumsy fool! You even let it spill!” the lady snapped, her voice as sharp as a whip, her face flushing with anger.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll clean it up right away,” the maid replied, trembling as she bowed and darted off in search of a cloth.

Only then did I notice something even stranger: the weight of a dress on me. I looked down—pink ruffles, intricate embroidery, satin cascading in waves. I touched my hair—soft, perfumed, meticulously curled. My lips burned slightly under the weight of a thick lipstick.

People in front of me stared with unease, as if I had lost my mind.

“What happened to me?!” I cried out, unable to contain the panic.

The two women turned to me instantly, as if I had shouted in a foreign language.

“What’s gotten into you, Patrícia? You’re talking nonsense,” asked the gaudy-dressed girl, wrinkling her nose, visibly bothered by my odd behavior.

Patrícia? My heart pounded harder. The pieces began to fall into place: the book I’d been reading on the bus the night before… the sudden flash… waking up in this place that smelled of lavender and furniture polish.

“This can’t be…” I whispered, trembling. With anxious steps, I crossed the grand hall adorned with luxurious tapestries and dark wood furniture until I stood before a tall mirror with a golden frame.

The reflection staring back at me had something of mine—but was not me. Brown curls fell in well-formed waves to her shoulders; green eyes of a shade I had never owned sparkled in a pale, almost translucent face. Her skin was fine, flawless. The dress, fit for a gala, seemed over the top, as if I were trapped in a theater without a script.

I pinched my cheek hard. Pain came immediately.

“I died and was reincarnated into the story of the book…” I murmured, the chill of the realization running down my spine.

The lady spoke again, less impatient and more curious:

“Patrícia, you’re as pale as a sheet. Go up to your room, girl. I’ll call a doctor.”

“That must be it…” I said, pretending to feel faint. “It feels like my body is burning from the inside…”

I need to act normal. If they think I’ve gone crazy, I could end up locked in an asylum.

I nodded, swallowing the words stuck in my throat. My body moved on its own, guided by a memory that wasn’t mine, until I reached the staircase covered by a thick, silent carpet. I climbed it, each step creaking underfoot. At the top, I turned left and stopped in front of a familiar door—the third room. How did I know that?

I pushed the door open.

The room was elegant, the air filled with a sweet, subtle perfume—maybe lavender with a hint of vanilla. Velvet curtains blocked the late afternoon sun, bathing the room in a golden twilight. I sank into the canopy bed, buried my face in a feather pillow so soft it almost swallowed me, and finally cried.

How did this happen? What do I do now? How do I get back to my life?

Panic burned under my skin like fire. I was trapped in a character’s skin—and not just any character. Patrícia, whom I knew had a bitter fate, entangled in betrayals and a tragic end.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Lady Eleonor and Elisa exchanged suspicious glances.

“What’s gotten into my sister? Is she crazy?” Elisa whispered, twirling her finger near her temple.

“She’s acting very strange indeed… Catarina, what are you still doing here? Go fetch the coachman. Patrícia needs a doctor,” ordered Lady Eleonor sharply.

“Yes, aunt. Right away,” replied Catarina, still surprised, but hurrying off.

Outside, the afternoon light warmed the garden, painting the sky in shades of copper and violet. Catarina knelt beside the dog and stroked his ears.

“You know, Bruno, it was strange how Patrícia defended me today… She seemed like a different person,” she said thoughtfully, watching the wind play with the leaves.

Later, when the doctor arrived, the sound of the carriage wheels on gravel announced his presence. He descended calmly, adjusting his hat.

“How have you been, my young lady?” asked Hernan, his voice low and kind.

“I’m well, thank you for asking,” Catarina replied, offering a tired but sincere smile.

He watched her closely.

“It’s admirable how strong you remain, despite so much effort. You look healthy.”

Catarina nodded in gratitude, but her mind lingered, stubbornly, on Patrícia’s strange gaze. Something had changed.

Lying in that bed, I felt the soft touch of the sheets against my skin and the gentle scent of lavender that filled the room. The flickering candlelight cast delicate shadows on the walls, making everything feel even more surreal. But my mind was far from there. Far from the body I now occupied.

My name was Lúcia. Or was it still?

I closed my eyes and remembered the smell of damp earth in the mornings of Minas Gerais, the lazy afternoons wrapped in the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee. But that past seemed to dissolve in the heavy air of the luxurious room I was now in.

At 23, I left the safety of my hometown for the impersonal vastness of São Paulo. I worked tirelessly, cleaning the halls of gleaming buildings, while the city pulsed around me like a living organism, indifferent to my existence. In the cramped hostel where I lived, I met Paula, who recommended me for a general services job. Even though I was clumsy, I made my coworkers laugh, but I constantly faced the critical eye of Renata, my supervisor, who seemed to feed off my missteps.

Two years passed. Through hard work and saving, I managed to set aside ten thousand reais, but at 25, I felt my life had been small. No great achievements, no unforgettable loves.

And now, I found myself here, between embroidered linen sheets, in a world that wasn’t