Ellen was stunned. "Who are you?" he asked. "And why are you here?"
Bronski, his face flushed red with anger, barked, "Look outside your window."
Ellen walked toward the window. He looked around and saw nothing. He looked up and saw nothing. He looked down and saw a maid, soaking wet, crying below.
He turned back without a word to the man in front of him.
Bronski screamed again. "Talk, you fool."
Ellen looked down as he replied, "It was an emergency."
Bronski tore off his wet shirt and threw it in Ellen's face. "I'll leave you for now. But during the festival, I will humiliate you in front of everyone." He took a deep breath and laughed. "Yes. In front of everyone. Your fiancée included."
Ellen pulled the shirt off his face, but Bronski was already storming out of the room. The slam of the door rattled a vase on the shelf.
As he stood there, another person entered. A butler—old, white-haired, with a neat beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose.
The butler bowed. "Sir Ellen, good morning." He waited for a reply.
Ellen thought to himself, Am I in Ellen's body? Or is this just a dream?
He lifted his head and replied, "Good morning."
The butler straightened. "Sir, Miss Alessia is here to see you. She said she has something important to discuss."
Ellen had no idea who this Miss Alessia was, and honestly, he didn't want to know—not yet. He decided to keep playing along until he understood what was really going on. "Can you lead me to her?" he asked.
The butler smiled. "Of course. It would be my pleasure."
They walked together, Ellen following a step behind, past hallways lined with portraits that didn't look painted so much as lived in—the eyes of an old woman in one frame seemed to track him as he passed. He shook his head. Nerves. Nothing more.
They reached a door. The butler opened it and bowed. "You may enter, sir."
"What about you?" Ellen asked.
"I can't, sir," the butler replied, and lingered a moment longer than a simple servant should have, watching Ellen with something like concern before he stepped back.
Ellen filed that away too. One more small thing that didn't add up.
He stepped inside. A beautiful girl with golden hair sat sipping tea from a marble cup. She looked up at him and bowed her head. Behind her stood a knight, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
The knight seemed hostile toward him, for reasons Ellen couldn't guess.
Alessia gave a quiet, pointed kick, reminding the knight to bow as well. She murmured, "Leo, I know you don't like him, but just act normal for now."
Ellen bowed his head in return.
The simple gesture stunned them both. Alessia and Leo stared at him, mouths hanging open, as if he'd done something far stranger than a polite nod.
Overacting, Ellen thought, though the reaction had looked a little too genuine for comfort. He sat down, poured himself a cup of tea, and took a sip. Alessia and Leo were still standing.
He let out a breath. He was still confused—this wasn't his body, wasn't his room, wasn't his life. He clung to the one explanation that let him keep breathing normally: some elaborate medieval roleplay hotel, where guests and staff dressed up and stayed in character for the full experience. It was the only story that let the vase, the portraits, and the butler's strange look all make sense.
Setting the thought aside for now, he spoke. "Why are you both still standing?"
Alessia sat. Leo didn't.
Ellen looked at him. "Aren't you going to sit?"
Leo blinked, confused, and glanced around as if checking whether Ellen meant someone else. He pointed at his own face. "Are you talking to me, dumbas—" He caught himself. "I mean, sir?"
Ellen giggled, convinced now that both of them were actors hired for the experience. He gave a small round of applause. "Nice, nice! Good bit, but I'm not a fan of the acting. No need to play the righteous knight in front of me—just act normal. Same goes for you, Miss Alessia. I already know why you're here."
Leo's grip on his sword hilt tightened, knuckles going pale, though he said nothing. Alessia and Leo both felt a chill run through them. Their hearts skipped a beat.
How does he know? They both thought. How does he already know we came here to break off the engagement?
Alessia set down her cup. Her hands were trembling slightly, and for a moment she just stared into the tea, gathering herself. When she finally looked up, her eyes were filled with tears.
"Yes, Ellen. Yes." Her voice caught. "I love another man. And I'm pregnant."
She said it like she'd been holding the words in her chest for weeks, and now that they were out, she didn't know whether to feel relief or terror at what came next. Leo took a half-step closer to her side, silent, protective, watching Ellen's face for any sign of the explosion they were both bracing for.
Ellen's face lit up with surprise, and then he smiled. "Oh, so that's it. Congratulations and all, but why tell me that you're pregnant?"
Leo and Alessia exchanged a glance, both certain Ellen was about to lose his temper the moment the words sank in.
Ellen laughed. "Sorry, I thought you were here to collect the bills. I got scared for nothing."
Alessia shot to her feet and slammed her hands on the table. The force snapped the wood in half, shattering the cup and an expensive-looking kettle and splattering hot tea across a carpet that probably cost more than most houses. Leo lunged forward on instinct, grabbing her arm to steady her, too late to stop any of it.
Ellen's heart sank as he took in the damage. He clutched his chest and dropped to the floor. "What are you doing?! Who's going to pay for all of this?!" he screamed, certain now that Alessia was simply trashing the hotel's furniture—and that this, at least, was a bit too far even for character acting.
Alessia snapped out of it, Leo's hand still on her arm. "Sorry for the damage—I'll pay for it. You're being awfully dramatic."
Ellen got back to his feet, brushing off his knees. "If you're paying, then it's fine. I've heard pregnant women are prone to mood swings." A small, nagging voice in the back of his mind pointed out that no actor breaks a real table for a bit. He ignored it.
Alessia asked again, more carefully this time. "Are you really okay with me being pregnant?"
Ellen gave a sarcastic little laugh. "Do your parents know?"
"No," Alessia said, quieter now. "They'd never agree to me marrying him."
Ellen leaned in close to her ear and murmured, "Then you should run far away with your lover and start a new life with your child."
Alessia had, of course, made the whole story up to break the engagement. But hearing him say that—so easily, so without malice—made something in her chest loosen that she hadn't realized was wound tight.
"I thought Ellen was just a spoiled heir who pressured my family into this marriage, she thought, glancing at Leo, who gave her the smallest nod. But he's surprisingly understanding. If he's willing to call it off, I have nothing left to argue."
She stood and bowed her head. "Thank you for listening. I'll take my leave now."
Leo bowed as well, a beat behind her, still watching Ellen with open suspicion even as relief loosened his shoulders.
Alessia turned and started for the door—only for Ellen to shout after her. "Miss Alessia." He pointed at the floor. "Don't forget to pay for that."
Alessia stopped. She turned back slowly, and something like amusement flickered across her face. "Of course," she said. "Watch closely."
She raised her hand. A circle of pale light bloomed in the air before her palm, unfurling outward in careful rings of inscription and geometry, each line settling into place like ink spreading through water. Leo took a step back out of habit, clearly used to giving the spell room to breathe.
The light pulsed once. Then the broken table knitted itself back together, splinter by splinter. The shattered cup rose in pieces and sealed shut without a seam. The spilled tea crawled backward across the carpet and vanished into the kettle's spout, and the kettle itself, dented moments ago, rounded out smooth and whole again.
Ellen didn't move. He didn't breathe. Every half-formed excuse he'd built over the last hour—the hotel, the actors, the elaborate set—collapsed at once, and for a few long seconds his mind simply refused to produce a new one. His mouth hung open, and the vase, the portraits, the butler's strange look all rushed back to him in a single unbearable instant of understanding.
Then, almost against his own will, his body moved before his thoughts caught up. He stumbled forward, grabbed the restored kettle with both hands, and drank straight from the spout, as if proving to himself that it was solid, that it was real, that his hands could still close around something.
Alessia beamed, clearly delighted by the reaction. "Amazing, right? I've been researching time-reversal magic at the academy."
Ellen lowered the kettle. His voice came out smaller than he meant it to. "M-magic? Tell me this is a prank. Tell me there's a camera somewhere."
Behind her, Leo's mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close to one, the first crack in his hostility since he'd walked in.
Alessia tilted her head, confused. "I don't know what a 'camera' is, but I promise you this isn't a prank." Then she seemed to remember something, and her eyes brightened. "You're enrolling in the academy too, aren't you? That makes me your senior. I'll teach you this magic myself."