What's worse than being stuck in the 21st century, working as a P.A. who opens the door for her boss every morning?
Being transmigrated into the Regency Era as one of the King's maids.
Yes, you heard that right. A maid.
My name's Isabel. Nice name, yeah, I know. But let's be honest—petite frame, ordinary dark brown hair, and big, doll-like eyes? I could've at least been a rich lady or, better still, the princess. But no. Fate has jokes.
One moment, I was in the office, spilling coffee all over my desk—and possibly on my boss's ridiculously expensive shoes. The next, a flash of bright light. And boom, I was standing in a line of girls before a towering castle.
"Silence!"
The guard's voice snapped me back to reality, or rather, my new nightmare.
I blinked around. The air was crisp, the trees swayed gracefully, and the breeze carried the scent of sea and pine. No smoky cars, no noisy horns, no pollution. I'll admit, it was beautiful. Almost peaceful.
Until I saw the guard staring at me like I had just crawled out of a dragon's mouth. His eyes narrowed, and then it hit me.
Right. My clothes.
While the other girls wore neat, laced gowns, I stood there in a brown trench jacket over a black gown, with dark boots that looked too modern. Basically, I was a walking time-travel mistake.
The murmurs began. Then the pointing. And the gasps. Oh no.
"You there!" the guard barked.
Oh God, please no.
Even with his helmet covering most of his face, I could feel the sternness radiating off him. My stomach twisted. So this is how it starts. Me, Isabel, personal assistant and coffee spiller extraordinaire, now standing in front of a regency castle, about to be executed for a fashion crime.
His eyes roamed over my clothes. Yeah, right—go ahead, stare like I'm a spy, weirdo. I don't even know how I got here either.
A moment later, he made a low growl, turned to the other guard, and whispered something I couldn't catch. Okay, now I'm curious. What are you two saying about me?
Then it happened.
"She's a different one," the first guard said loudly.
The other nodded. "She's the right pick."
Wait, what? Right pick for what?
"Uhm, excuse me, this is... a mistake. Literally, I—uh..."
Okay, crap, what do I even say? That I'm from the twenty-first century? Who would believe that? Even I can't believe I'm here.
"The thing is, I don't know how I got here, haha." I clapped my hands awkwardly and laughed, shaking my head. I must be going mad. My boss was probably losing his mind the moment he realized his personal assistant had vanished.
Then it hit me.
Ah!
I slapped a hand over my mouth. Right. He had been standing next to me while I was half asleep at my desk. He tapped the table, I jumped, the coffee spilled, and then…
I clenched my fists, heart pounding. What could have gone wrong?
"Strange accent. Also dressed like an assassin," the first guard muttered.
"Take her," he ordered.
Before I could even breathe, two large hands grabbed me and dragged me toward the castle gates.
"Wait, you've got the wrong girl, seriously! My day has not been great—hey! Are you even listening? Both of you, I mean! I'm not an assassin, I swear—"
I screamed, I kicked, but it's hard to fight when you're kicking against stones—stones with muscles. Eventually, I gave up the tantrum and just followed them, lips pouted and pride completely shattered.
As we moved through the corridors, maids froze mid-step. Their eyes followed me, every single one of them, as if I were an alien who had dropped from the sky.
The stone walls stretched high above, carved with old symbols that glowed faintly beneath the flickering lanterns. The air smelled of smoke, pine, and something ancient. My boots clicked against the marble floor—too modern, too loud, too wrong.
I shook my head. None of this mattered right now. My mind was a mess, it was spinning. I had to find a way out of this. I had to remember how I got here if I ever wanted to go back.
My boss. Oh, those angry stares and constant sneers. Only heaven knows what punishment awaits me. But all thoughts of my boss vanished when the double doors swung open. And I found myself being dragged into a throne room.
You know those Cinderella fairytale we watched as kids? The glittering castle halls with endless stairs? This was exactly that.
Except this one was enormous.
The chandelier above glowed like captured starlight. The golden throne at the center shone brighter than anything I had ever seen. The men surrounding it—all tall, broad, and serious—watched me with narrowed eyes. They had to be elders, judging by their gray hair and skeptical expressions.
I didn't get to see much of their faces though, because I was still being pulled forward. Forward… until I saw him.
An enormous man sat upon an equally enormous throne, his chin resting lazily on his hand.
The robe he wore—gasp.
Wait, was this even the medieval era or the Regency era? Because that robe was… open. And beneath it—oh dear God—was a chest. A tanned, finely built, absolutely illegal chest.
Ahh… ahh…
Look away, Isabel. Look away.
But I couldn't. My eyes betrayed me, wide and frozen, drinking in every impossible line of him. He was young. Too young to be a king, yet his presence filled the hall like thunder waiting to strike.
Whatever era I had fallen into, I clearly hadn't studied enough history for this. Enough to know his name, to know what kind of king he is? Better not be a tyrant heavenly g...
He lifted his head slowly, too slowly, until his gaze locked with mine. And when our eyes met, my breath hitched, help I am finding it difficult to breath, to speak. But my lips did part, and the only word that slipped out, soft, broken, and unbelieving..was,
"Boss."