Chapter 3
The silence after the blue screen faded was heavy enough to crush thought itself. Ethan… no, the body he wore… lay trembling on the floor, chest heaving. The servants huddled at the corner of the chamber, whispering prayers under their breath.
Then it came again.
A voice, smooth as polished glass, slipped through his mind.
["Initialization complete. Connection stable. Welcome, Host."]
Ethan froze. His eyes flicked around the room, searching for the source. "Who's there?"
["Designation: Reversal System. Function: Balance restoration. This unit will guide you through the laws of Velora."]
"The laws of what?"
["Velora. The Holy Empire of Order. The continent's supreme matriarchal dominion."]
He laughed once, low and sharp. "So, not only am I trapped in a woman's body, I'm also in a world where women rule everything. Perfect."
["Correction. Women rule every class. Men function as property, servants, or conscripted soldiers. Ownership varies by status and decree."]
The words sank like lead into his skull. "Property."
["Affirmative."]
He gritted his teeth. "And what happens to women who fall from power?"
["Public tribunal. Stripping of rank. Execution by divine law. Your predecessor, Liora Valen, was sentenced for treason against the Crown. Seven days remain before the decree is carried out."]
A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "You expect me to just accept that?"
["Acceptance is not required. Survival is."]
Ethan rose unsteadily to his feet. His legs trembled, and the long strands of silver hair brushed against his arms as if mocking him. The room tilted, and he grabbed a carved post for balance. "If this is some divine test, tell your god I'm not interested in playing the victim."
["Objection recorded. Response: irrelevant."]
He laughed again, breathless, half-mad. "You're even worse than the machines back home. At least they pretended to care."
The voice continued, ignoring him.
["Current body integrity: unstable. Host synchronization at 42 percent. Movement beyond threshold may result in rejection."]
"What rejection?"
["System rejection: complete neurological collapse, followed by erasure."]
He blinked. "You mean death."
["Affirmative."]
His grip on the post tightened. The maids were still watching him, trembling. To them, he must have looked like a lunatic… pale, sweating, arguing with air.
One dared to whisper, "My Lady, please, lie down before the curse takes you again."
Ethan turned his gaze on her. "It's not a curse. It's control."
Pain exploded through his skull like on detonation. Every nerve burned, every muscle twisted against him. His vision turned into shards of color.
["Warning. Host attempting to exceed synchronization limit. Disciplinary correction initiated."]
He screamed, his voice echoing. The servants dropped to their knees, crying out prayers to their goddess. Blue light crackled beneath his skin, veins glowing lines.
He tried to fight it… to stand, to force his body into submission… but his limbs refused to obey. The voice filled his mind once more, calm and merciless.
["Lesson One: In Velora, defiance without balance is destruction."]
The world tilted violently. His knees gave out, and the floor rushed up to meet him.
The last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him was the reflection in the mirror… her face, pale and ethereal, twisted in pain that belonged to him.
Then everything went still.
[Warning: Host's soul is unbalanced. Male arrogance detected. System correction in progress.]
Pain ripped through him with precision, cutting deeper than any blade he had ever known.
His scream broke from Liora's lips, high, sharp, unearthly. The sound echoed, a cry that did not belong to a mortal throat.
"Stop…" His voice cracked, splintering into a gasp. "What are you doing to me?"
[Synchronizing mental patterns. Incompatible traits detected. Initiating forced alignment.]
"Alignment? You call this alignment?" His laughter turned into a ragged choke. "You're burning my mind alive!"
[Resistance noted. Increasing correction output.]
The agony doubled. His vision flooded with light, then dissolved into a storm of memories not his own.
He was standing in a grand hall, pillars stretching toward the heavens. Women in jeweled armor surrounded him… her. Their gazes were cold, their words colder.
["Liora Valen, daughter of House Valen. You are hereby accused of treason against the Empire of Velora."]
Liora's voice echoed inside him, frantic and desperate. "No! I didn't betray the Empire! I only wanted peace…"
Ethan staggered within the vision, clutching at his head. "Peace? What peace? What did you do?"
["You sold the plans to the northern armies!" one general barked. "You endangered every woman, every soldier of Velora for your delusions!"]
Another voice rose above the crowd, calm, regal, but merciless. "Enough."
The Empress descended from her throne, dressed in gold, her presence screamed power. Her eyes shone with divine authority, yet her smile was sharp.
"Liora Valen," the Empress said softly. "You were my brightest jewel. My trusted envoy. Tell me, why should I not have your name erased from history?"
Liora… the real Liora… trembled. "I only wanted to stop the war. The men were dying in thousands. The rebellion was…"
"Silence." The Empress's word was law. "You have forgotten your place. Your weakness has infected your house."
Ethan could feel Liora's terror as her legs gave way. Soldiers seized her arms, chains clinking around delicate wrists. The scene burned into him with humiliation, disbelief, betrayal.
The voice inside his head pulsed louder.
[Memory integration at 53 percent. Host consciousness stabilizing.]
"Stabilizing?" Ethan spat. "You're killing me!"
[Correction: You are being rewritten.]
The pain surged again, dragging him through another vision.
Rain poured over a marble courtyard. Nobles gathered like vultures, whispering. Liora stood in the center, chained and soaked, her once-elegant gown clinging to her skin. A herald read her crimes in a voice devoid of pity.
"By decree of Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress of Velora, the noble Liora Valen is stripped of all titles and rights. Her treason against the Crown shall be punished by death in seven days."
The crowd roared, some in hatred, others in cruel delight. Stones were thrown. Mud splashed against her face.
Ethan flinched as the impact seared through him as if he were the one struck. "Enough!" he shouted. "I get it, she was betrayed! Stop showing me this!"
[Integration at 79 percent. Emotional override required.]
The voice no longer sounded mechanical. It pulsed, layered, almost sentient. Like a god shaping a creature in its image.
Liora's final memory erupted like lightning. She was on her knees before a soldier, a man, broken, branded, chained at the neck. He raised his head only once, meeting her eyes with wordless grief.
"Forgive me, my lady," he whispered. "They made me testify."
The last thread of Liora's life snapped in that moment, and Ethan felt it. The despair, the betrayal, the fading heartbeat swallowed by darkness.
[Integration complete. Host consciousness: merged.]
Ethan gasped awake, slamming his palms against the cold floor. His entire body shook. The maids were gone. The chamber was empty except for the echo of his ragged breaths.
He pressed a trembling hand to his temple. "So that's what you wanted. To bury me under her memories."
[Correction: To balance your arrogance with her remorse.]
He looked up, violet eyes burning with defiance. "I don't need balance. I need control."
[Balance precedes control. Control without balance leads to corruption. You failed once before. You will not fail again.]
His blood ran cold. "What do you mean, I failed before?"
The voice hesitated, just for a heartbeat. Then…
[Access denied.]
Ethan slammed a fist into the floor. "You think you can cage me in this body, this world, and call it correction? I built empires out of nothing. I'll tear yours apart too."
[Statement acknowledged. Probability of survival: 12 percent.]
"Then watch me increase it."
[Warning. Defiance recorded. Emotional imbalance increasing.]
He forced himself upright. His knees wobbled, but he stayed standing. Every muscle trembled from the correction's aftershocks. The silk nightgown clung to his body.
"Tell me everything about this empire," he demanded.
[Velora: founded 972 years ago. Governance: Matriarchal. Population: 72 million. Hierarchy: Empress, High Houses, Noblewomen, Commanders, Servants, and Slaves. Male rights: null. Male property classification: tiered by owner status.]
He stared at the glowing text that shimmered before him. "And what am I in this world?"
[Currently designated as 'Disgraced Noblewoman.' Title pending execution. No property. No allies. No resources.]
A cruel laugh slipped past his lips. "Starting from zero again. Fitting."
[Correction: Starting from negative. The Valen name has been erased. The Empire recognizes you only as 'the traitor.']
He stepped closer to the mirror. The reflection of Lady Liora looked back, pale, but alive. Her eyes, his eyes, gleamed with stubborn fire. "Then I'll make them remember it."
[Host declaration recorded.]
The light around him flickered, as if reacting to his conviction.
He reached out toward the mirror, palm pressed to the cold glass. "You want balance? I'll give you balance. But on my terms."
For a moment, the room was silent. Then the voice spoke again, lower, resonant, almost reverent.
[Acknowledged. Assigning primary directive.]
The air thickened. Blue light bled into the room, swirling before his eyes until words took shape across the mirror's surface.
[Mission #1: Survive your execution in seven days.]
Ethan stared at the glowing text, the corners of his lips curling upward in a slow, dangerous smile.
"Seven days," he whispered. "Plenty of time."