What was the original Jack Schafer doing now?
Did his old body die? Is that why he'd been transported to this new world? Or was someone else inhabiting his body? Maybe even Princess Araya, who'd owned the one he currently occupied?
He shook his head to dispel those thoughts. Jack Schafer no longer mattered. Right now, he had to focus on Princess Araya's present predicament.
As they walked through the building toward the trade room, three thoughts plagued his mind.
First: Did Araya kill that woman?
He tried recalling how he'd awakened—in Araya's body on the bed. Either he was right and Araya was a psychopath who'd killed the woman then gone back to sleep without bothering to hide the body—
He looked at his new hands. Dainty, creamy skin that pinked at the knuckles. He had to have faith that Araya wouldn't do something so horrid.
Which led to the second possibility.
Someone else had crept into the room, maybe through the window, and stabbed the woman in the head—probably when she'd come to serve Araya dinner or perform some other duty.
Was it a warning to Araya? Punishment? A threat?
And if someone could get into Araya's room to kill the woman, did that mean he was next?
Jack's eyes darted around as they walked. Servants in simple brown robes—not the white one his companion wore—moved through the various floors. Even the servants had hierarchy. Some dusted sculptures and swept the circular hallways, pausing only to bow when he and his attendant passed. Lower maids with cleaning cloths and feather dusters curtseyed as they walked by, wearing black dresses cut below the knees with white aprons.
Were there other people living in this building? As paranoia rose, he couldn't help wondering: Could one of these servants have killed the woman in his room?
Jack hadn't been paying close attention to his surroundings due to his scrambled thoughts. They'd walked from the princess's room, turning right until they reached the corridor's end. The walls were pristine white without a speck of dust.
The corridor was lined with paintings in solid gold frames. Old men, women, some with full families—no doubt members of the royal lineage and nobles.
At the corridor's end, an elegant staircase emerged with gleaming gold railings and white steel supports. They'd climbed two floors now, Jack stumbling every eight steps because he was distracted and still adjusting to this new body.
He felt lighter, often miscalculating momentum when his mind wandered. The familiar weight between his legs was gone, his hair kept brushing his shoulders annoyingly. At least this body had perfect vision, unlike his glasses-dependent former self.
As his attendant continued ahead, he pondered the third crucial question.
How did he get here?
They left the staircase and emerged into what appeared to be the building's apex. In the stairwell, only occasional windows had provided illumination. Now they stood directly under blazing morning sun that nearly blinded him.
The apex opened onto a magnificent patio with a swimming pool at its center, wooden lounger chairs for relaxation, and fluffy cotton sofas positioned at the platform's edge under protective umbrellas shielding occupants from harsh rays.
In the sky above, an amazing sight made Jack's breath hitch. He might have thought the world was ending if his attendant wasn't acting unconcerned.
Overhead, like massive meteors drifting through clouds, enormous chunks of earth moved slowly across the heavens.
Straining against the sun's glare, he could make out tall buildings' peaks poking from the floating landmasses' gated perimeters. Some sort of civilization was built upon these aerial islands.
This had to be powered by magic. No human invention could keep something so massive aloft for so long.
Was it the same magic that brought him here? For what purpose? By accident? Was he needed for something?
Jack tried judging time from the sun's position. It seemed a few degrees above the eastern horizon, past smaller buildings he couldn't properly distinguish due to distance. The position suggested somewhere around seven or eight AM.
"I should be getting ready for classes now," he chuckled sadly, wishing he could return to his boring existence. Even his pathetic, lonely life beat solving this murder mystery.
His attendant turned around, concern etched across her features. "My lady, are you certain you're well? You seem more... troubled than usual. Are you feeling ill? Perhaps the cramps? Shall I fetch some tea? Or would you prefer returning to your chambers? I could make excuses for you. There's no need to force yourself."
Jack nearly laughed. Troubled—that was one way to describe his fragmenting mental state. He considered claiming illness and returning to his room.
But he wasn't sure he could psychologically bear being in the same space with that... thing.
And if he abandoned his duties for somewhere else, Araya and others might grow suspicious. Not to mention he'd be completely lost in this labyrinth—something the real Araya would never do.
He repeated his cardinal rule: Do not arouse suspicion.
"I'm fine. Sorry. Let's continue." Forcing a smile, he quickened his pace, nearly tripping again.
Watching his attendant's back as she matched his speed, he wondered if he could tell her about the body. Princesses had authority, right? Could he force her to keep it secret until they figured something out?
No. Though he'd known her only minutes, he couldn't burden her with something so horrific.
Besides, he had no idea whom to trust. She might be the murderer herself.
Jack focused on what truly mattered now—the mysterious trade meeting he was supposed to attend, though his concentration kept splitting because of—
"Agh." Jack muttered under his breath as he nearly sprained his ankle in the high heels he'd been forced to wear. Not only was his center of gravity completely off, but he'd never worn heels before. At all. He'd probably cripple himself maintaining this pace, leaving only one option...
"Oh—" His attendant gasped instinctively as Jack wrapped his delicate hand around hers. Her skin felt soft, but the hand itself was strong and sturdy. She was definitely accustomed to hard work.
The woman looked ready to speak as Jack walked, steadying himself with her support, but quickly closed her mouth as a faint blush colored her rosy cheeks.
They continued walking away from the sofas and pool, and he realized they weren't completely in the open. A glass dome encircled them, preventing the high-altitude breeze from being felt. He might not have noticed without the birds perched on top.
On the room's opposite side from their entrance staircase, a tunnel was visible. From here, he could see it was more like a bridge leading to another domed tower similar to their current one. More bridges like this connected various towers, lined with glass barriers preventing fatal falls.
The bridge itself was solid rock, sturdy and stable with each step. That didn't stop his stomach from dropping as they walked across. Even though the passage felt safe, he could see they were several stories high—maybe the height of a small skyscraper. A fall would mean certain death.
His attendant walked normally, obviously accustomed to the height. Jack followed, forcing himself to appear calm despite increasing anxiety. Soon they arrived at the central domed tower, which several other towers connected to, marking it as some sort of hub. Then they began descending through another staircase with layout very similar to the one they'd just left.
It was time for him to join the trade meeting.
Time to discover what kind of political minefield Princess Araya had been navigating—and what role a dead woman in a golden chest played in it all.