Miyara's POV
I shot up from the bed like I'd just remembered my assignments were due. My legs wobbled, but my disgust was stronger than gravity. The strange guy's arm snaked around my wrist before I could bolt.
"Where are you running off to?" he said, that lazy, dangerous tone back in his voice.
"Out," I said, and before he could blink, I slammed my forehead into his chin. Hard. The sound was ugly bone meeting bone and his head jerked back.
I grinned, rubbing my forehead. "That's for calling me your pet."
He looked stunned for a second, then his expression darkened in a way that promised revenge later. I didn't stay to admire it. I turned and sprinted out of the room, the echo of his growl chasing me down the hallway.
Outside, Ayame was pacing, arms crossed and face tight with worry. The second she saw me, her eyes narrowed. "Where the hell have you been? You disappeared for hours!"
"Library," I said too fast.
Ayame's brow furrowed. "You? In a library?"
"Fine," I sighed. "I was lost. Took a wrong turn, fell into… someone's ego. It was huge. Almost died there."
She stared at me like I was speaking in riddles, but I forced a tired smile and walked past her before she could ask more. "Let's just go home, yeah? I need a bath. And therapy. Maybe both at once."
She followed me, muttering something about how weird I'd been acting lately. If only she knew. If only I could tell her that her sister's body now hosted a dragon queen who couldn't even fry an egg without burning her hand.
The next morning, the courtyard looked like chaos dipped in perfume. The competition had been narrowed down to two hundred. Two hundred girls and boys were lined up in rows, all trying to look humble and gorgeous at the same time. The officials stood on the stage, reading out names for the "Special Maid Selection.", remember? Okay so the deadly and dangerous prince Rikuya needs 4 special maids and the rest may be palace maids well I don't know all those details, not my duty as queen and I don't give many fucks about it.
Ayame squeezed my hand. Her name wasn't called. Mine was.
When my name echoed across the courtyard, I didn't even react at first. My brain froze halfway between yay and oh no. Ayame's face fell for a second, then she forced a smile. "Guess it's your turn, sis. Make it count."
"I will," I said quietly, and for the first time since waking in this body, I actually meant it.
She still helped me get ready, brushing my hair, adjusting my plain uniform. I knew she was pissed underneath it, but she hid it well. That was Ayame since I first knew her always pretending things didn't sting.
I didn't deserve her patience. Especially when I planned to use this chance not to polish silverware but to find the chamber where my real body, my dragon self, was trapped.
The first task began right after noon: "Serve and Presentation."
Simple in theory. The palace supervisors bored-looking noblewomen with feathers bigger than their personalities watched from a long table. Each girl had to serve a guest tea while maintaining "grace and composure."
I wanted to laugh. Grace? In this body? She could barely walk straight without tripping over her own skirt and I've been served all my life so what on earth in this.
But I also wasn't stupid. I watched the first few girls go. Their hands shook, tea spilled, one nearly cried when her cup cracked. The noblewomen didn't even blink.
When it was my turn, I decided subtle cheating was survival. I crouched behind the serving table and whispered a few spells and I knew consequences were gonna come , "Shadow, lend me balance."
The air pulsed faintly. A whisper brushed my ear, good, approval. My hands steadied instantly, my movements sharper. No one noticed.
I walked to the guest table, poured the tea in one smooth motion, and bowed. Not a drop spilled.
The noblewomen murmured, impressed.
One of the other girls hissed under her breath, "Show-off."
"Jealousy's not flattering," I whispered back with a smile.
The guest, a middle-aged nobleman, sipped and nodded. "Perfect temperature. What's your name, girl?"
"Miyara," I said. "But you can just call me your next favorite maid."
His eyebrows rose. "Bold."
"Honest," I corrected.
That earned me a faint grin and another approving murmur from the judges. I walked back to my line, feeling a little smug until I caught sight of him.
That strange sneaky little bastard.
Standing at the edge of the courtyard, half-hidden behind one of the guards. He wasn't supposed to be there. His uniform marked him as royal escort, not judge.
Our eyes met for a split second. His smirk was small but sharp enough to slice through my calm. My throat went dry.
He's not supposed to remember that night. Or maybe he does. Great. Whatever.
I turned away fast, pretending to adjust my apron.
The next challenge was a nightmare cleaning while blindfolded. The instructors claimed it tested intuition and obedience. I called it free labor disguised as spiritual growth.
They gave us buckets, cloths, and one order: clean the room without missing a single spot.
As soon as the blindfold came on, I whispered again, "Shadow, guide me."
The whisper returned, softer this time. My hands moved almost on their own. I could feel where dust lingered, where the floor needed scrubbing.
Around me, girls bumped into furniture, cursed under their breath, knocked over buckets. One screamed after stepping on soap.
I finished in half the time. When they pulled the cloth from my eyes, the floor around me gleamed.
"Impressive," one judge said. "Have you been trained before?"
"Oh, I'm naturally good at cleaning up other people's messes," I said sweetly. "Life skill."
That earned a couple of stifled laughs from the guards nearby, but I caught Rikuya's eyes again. He was watching me like I was some puzzle he already knew the answer to but was letting me struggle anyway.
I wanted to throw the bucket at his face.
Between tasks, we were given water and a slice of bread barely enough to feed a mouse, but apparently the royal budget didn't extend to snacks.
Ayame found me in the break area, holding a towel. "You're doing great," she said, but her tone was clipped. "They really like you."
I glanced at her. "You sound thrilled."
"I just don't get it," she said quietly. "I didn't even want this stupid job, but now that you have it, I feel… weird."
I put a hand on her shoulder. "Weird is fine. Jealous is fine. Angry's even better. Just don't stop being good to me, okay?"
She blinked at me. "You sound different ho."
"Do I?" I said, faking confusion. "Maybe because I didn't get to eat like a dragon during breakfast."
That earned a reluctant laugh from her, and for a second, but I knew I owed that shadow god a great deal.
By late afternoon, they called us back for the next round "Speed and Obedience."
Each maid was assigned a tray of items: fruit, cutlery, a glass of water and ordered to walk across the garden path filled with obstacles without spilling or dropping anything.
It looked ridiculous. Half the girls tripped before reaching the halfway mark.
When my turn came, I let my magic hum low under my skin, not enough for anyone to sense, just enough to sharpen my instincts.
The trick wasn't balance it was rhythm. I timed my steps to the guards' marching beats nearby, like I was part of a silent song. Each movement precise.
At the last step, I nearly slipped on a wet tile, but I held onto a girl closer to me and she fell oops my bad.
I placed the tray down perfectly. Not a single thing out of place.
The noblewoman in charge clapped once. "Excellent."
The results for the first round were announced at sunset.
Out of two hundred, only fifty names were read aloud for the next level. Mine was second.
Ayame's face in the crowd was unreadable, and for a second, guilt twisted in my chest. But I pushed it down. I had a mission, and it didn't include comforting everyone else's pride.
I still caught the side of that sneaky man. I could almost hear his voice in my head, low and teasing: You really think I'll let you walk away this time?
I turned sharply, pretending to focus on the judges, but my pulse had already started to race.
The next round was being announced something about physical endurance, teamwork, "moral character."
Yeah. Because nothing says "morality" like the same palace that enslaves half the applic
ants.
But I barely heard the details.
The round hadn't even started yet, and somehow, I already knew this was about to get very, very bad.