Mushiyu woke up starving.

Her eyes fluttered open, head throbbing and body limp as if she’d run a marathon. Pitch darkness surrounded her. Instinctively, she reached for the light switch—only to hit a hard, flat surface.

Mushiyu froze. She bolted upright, then instantly collapsed back onto the bed, clutching the blanket like a shield. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar shadows.

*Where am I?* This wasn’t her room. And worst of all—she was completely naked. Not even underwear.

Her mind flashed with grim scenes from TV dramas: auctions, restraints, electric shocks. Just imagining them made her skin crawl.

Muffled voices drifted in. A sliver of flickering light cut through the dark. Squinting, Mushiyu realized she was trapped in a cramped space. Strange, unfamiliar objects loomed nearby. The pillow felt soft but oddly stiff. No clothes in sight. She couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone escape.

*Stay calm. Don’t panic.*

Her eyes locked onto a fruit knife resting on a nearby table. The voices seemed distant. Heart pounding, she crept out of bed, snatched the knife, and felt a flicker of safety. Every movement drained her—her limbs felt like wet noodles.

She tiptoed toward the light’s source: a slightly open window. Just as she leaned closer, footsteps echoed outside. Mushiyu scrambled back under the blanket, knife gripped tight, eyes squeezed shut. Her heartbeat roared like a war drum. *Please just walk by…*

The footsteps stopped at the door. Light flooded the room. Slow, deliberate steps approached the bed. Then—silence. Someone stood motionless beside her.

*What are you waiting for? Get out!*

A low female voice cut through the tension: "How long will you keep pretending?"

Mushiyu’s eyes flew open. Bright light stung her vision. Above her hovered a stunning face—sharp Elven ears framing it. *An elf?* Her gaze dropped to the gleaming armor covering the figure. *Wait… is this still the game?*

She waved a bare arm in the air. No option windows appeared. Flustered, she met the elf’s icy stare. *Right. Cosplay. Duh.*

Loran watched the girl’s bizarre antics, already drafting her report to the princess: *"Subject exhibits severe mental instability."*

Mushiyu noticed the cosplayer’s flawless expression. *Perfectly in character. Ten out of ten.* But why was she here?

"Um…" Mushiyu sat up, clutching the blanket over her chest. Her sloping shoulders and creamy arms gleamed in the lamplight. "Where… where is this?"

The elf’s gaze flickered to the knife beside her. Mushiyu’s cheeks burned. "I—I just woke up confused! I thought—"

"Enough." Loran plucked the "knife" away and placed it on a table. Only then did Mushiyu see it was a prop weapon. *I used a fake knife to defend myself? How stupid!*

"Rest. Someone wishes to see you." Loran turned to leave.

"Wait! Can I get some clothes?"

Loran ignored her and strode out.

*Zero points for breaking character,* Mushiyu grumbled inwardly.

She studied the room properly now. A carriage? But absurdly large—like something from a royal fantasy film. The light came from an antique oil lamp on the table. *Is this a movie set? A dream?* Her stomach growled painfully. *Definitely a hungry person’s dream.*

Her eyes landed on exotic fruits on the table. Saliva flooded her mouth. *Just one bite…* She stretched under the blanket, fingers straining toward the fruit—

The door swung open. Mushiyu yanked the blanket to her chin, wide-eyed as a startled rabbit.

Melissara entered to find a flushed girl staring at her, bare shoulders glowing under dark hair, a baby-soft blush deepening her cheeks. The girl’s shocked expression shifted to pure awe.

Loran snapped, "Human! Lower your insolent gaze!"

No one listened. Mushiyu gasped, "Xiaoqing? You’re amazing at cosplay! This outfit is *stunning* on you!"

*Xiaoqing?* Melissara’s lips curved slightly. *She thinks I’m someone else… but she called me stunning.*

"Silence! Show respect!" Loran’s hand flew to her sword hilt.

Mushiyu shot the "elf guard captain" a puzzled look. *Way too committed to the role.*

"Is this a play? Am I Sleeping Beauty?" she asked.

Melissara silenced Loran with a glance, studying the girl curiously.

"Why aren’t you answering?" Mushiyu’s eyes darted around. "Is this a reality show? Where are the cameras?" Finding none, she looked up at "Xiaoqing" with lost-rabbit confusion.

Melissara’s pulse quickened. She reached out, fingertips brushing the girl’s porcelain cheek, then cupping it fully. The skin felt like warm jade.

Mushiyu frowned at the cold touch and grabbed the wandering hand.

Loran’s knuckles turned white on her sword. *I should sever that impudent hand!*

Melissara merely tightened her grip, marveling at the human’s impossibly smooth skin. "Let go," Mushiyu protested, tugging uselessly. "Xiaoqing?"

Melissara stilled but didn’t release her. "I am not ‘Xiaoqing’."

Mushiyu giggled nervously. "Nice joke! If you’re not Xiaoqing, am *I* her? Seriously, what’s the prank?"

"I am Melissara." The name landed like ice.

Mushiyu’s smile died. Those sea-blue eyes held none of Xiaoqing’s warmth—only detached curiosity.

She wrenched free, scrambling backward until her spine hit the carriage wall. "Who are you people? Where am I?"

Melissara’s eyes darkened at the lost warmth. Without a word, she swept out.

Loran glared at the trembling girl huddled under the blanket. "Speak. What do you want to know?"