"Her" Introduction

—To the beginning of your forever!

"What the hell?!"

This was insanity, plain and simple. Or perhaps it was sleep deprivation? Cecilia had been working late nights; it definitely would not be out of the realm of possibility. After all, whatever magical transportation nonsense being implied here could not be in that same realm, in stable reality. This had to be some fit of imagination, or maybe a dream...

She paused, a cold sweat crawling down her neck as realization struck her—Hard

Oh god, she was really in trouble. Head in her hands, Cecilia wanted to scream. She was already trying to console herself with the most delusional cope in fiction.

“I’ve officially snapped," she muttered. "I shouldn’t have mixed those 48-Hour Mocktails together, I’ve finally lost it—"

There is no need to be shy! I am your greatest guide and most invested partner—I am your story's narrator! As you strive for steamy romance and social hierarchy, I will be your guide through your every instance of wistful pining and desperate longing.

She blinked, hard, taking a couple of seconds for her brain to catch up with what she had just heard. "I'm sorry," Cecilia said, her tone bordering on more of a warning or a dare than any sort of genuine apology. "I'll be striving for what?"

You have become a reincarnation, so to speak, from your old world. This is a chance anew to live a life of magic, passion, and opportunities limited to your own courage! And that life begins now, in power, in grace, in the gorgeous sprawl of the Sisyphus Manor, as the beautiful, illustrious…

The chirpy, ominous voice tapered off with a downward lilt, implying a confusion of their own.

It certainly did not put Cecilia at ease, and her eyebrows furrowed with impatient concern.

Um, okay, let us try this again—Your life begins now as the beautiful, illustrious...maid?

Another hard blink into space, directed right at an immaterial yet omnipotent presence. “I'm the maid?"

Well, a maid, not the only one in the manor. At least that won't be a concern, rest assured. Another pause. Oh dear, this is…not quite what I had expected. The voice softened further, as if whispering thoughtfully to themself. I did not plan for that characterization. How in the world did that happen...?

“Not what you expected—You said you're the 'narrator', what do you even mean, ‘not what you expected’—?”

No, no, no, do not fret, we can certainly make this work!

“Every sentence you've shot into my brain has only made me fret.”

So witty, you are—The perfect little spitfire for a leading lady! Yes, this is a n amazing opportunity, if we choose to grasp it. It can be a fresh spin on a classic tale, a sweet yet leering Cinderella story! Oh, with the manor’s ball arriving in only a few days, you have so much to prepare for!

It really was amazing how a heart can sit frozen still and beat in erratic terror at the same time.

What the hell? What the hell! What the actual, literal Victorian dark romance hell?!

It should be illegal how much contrast there was between the serene peace of the dawning morn and the frantic rabidness with which Cecilia was pinching her arms and throwing open the nightstand's drawers. There was not much payoff to her snooping, as she discovered nothing but a change of nightclothes, folded with military precision, and a nondescript book. Its binding was composed of a worn, well-loved green leather with a gold sigil burned into its front cover. It was reminiscent of a star, glittering and four-sided like a celestial diamond, as if being witnessed from lightyears away. There were a cluster of animals stationed around the star. At its base stood serene deer, its eyes fluttered shut, and a bear stood on its hind legs, maw snarling and arms reared back. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the peaking head of some sort of rodent—perhaps a weasel or an ermine—curled around the base as well, almost hiding behind it. Fluttering about the star’s arms were two nondescript birds, perhaps meant to be doves or some other peaceful avian, both in unison swaddling the star loosely in a smooth strip of fabric.

Oh my, look at you go, Cecilia! You are already striving to learn about your new living quarters? Perhaps even exploring the local culture, picking up on clues and antiques? Lovely!

A vein in her forehead started throbbing harder, threatening to pop as she cracked the book open.

The words were gibberish, pure and nonsensical bunk, or at least they were as good as gibberish to her. The language in which these pages were written was none she have ever seen in all the books and manuscripts she had peered through. The symbols were unrecognizable, no matter how much she leafed through, regardless of how the pages flicked faster and faster back and forth in her haste. Her fingers moved all the more quickly in frustrated desperation, for any sign of familiarity.

And none was present. About halfway through, the nonsensical symbols had stopped, leaving a slew of blank pages in their wake.

I admire your display of tenacity; your excitement palpable, not to mention engaging!

Cecilia willed that her teeth's enamel turned to cement to keep her tongue caged. She imagined nothing that leaves it at this moment would be particularly pleasant.

Instead, she tossed the book back in its drawer, letting it close with a sharp thud before she crouched down to the dusty floor next.

Now, that is...Quite unnecessary, don't you think? You are just dirtying yourself, and there is already so much for you to do, to explore!

Her nose wrinkled in disdain as she peered under the bed, only seeing a collection of neatly stacked quilts, sheets, and dust bunnies. Well, there were also the two cracked part of her candlestick. She grabbed those, assuming they would be necessary for later when light, as limited as it was at present, was not so available.

You do not seem to be entirely adjusted yet.

"Congratulations, oh great Disembodied Matchmaking Voice," she snapped, bumping her head against a plank of the bed frame's undercarriage. "You really nailed the current mood."

The voice went quiet. The stretching silence made her annoyance dull into a nagging sense of regret instead. Once she crawled back from underneath the bed, she pushed long strands of black hair from her face, tugging at her scalp. Gently wiping grime and dust particles from her glasses' lenses with a corner of the bed's quilt, she released a deep sigh, trying to breathe out some of the whirling frustrations caught in my lungs. "I'm sorry," she said, forcing calmness as much as she could. "I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

Interesting, considering that was the verb used to describe how you said it.

Great, the voice knows sarcasm.

Cecilia bit the flesh of her cheek, taking another deep breath before speaking again. "I'm just feeling...overwhelmed right now. This is a lot to take in, and I just need to get my bearings right now.” She paused, mulling over his words for a moment before asking, “You said there is a ball soon? Like a dance?”

That is a close enough comparison!

“Is that the main point of this ‘story’? Like, the climax?”

It certainly could be!

“And the story ends afterward?”

There was a beat of silence between the two, the air feeling a bit tenser, as if she had said the wrong thing.

Perhaps, the voice said noncommittally.

“Okay,” she said, her shoulders relaxing a smidge. “Then I just need to wait it out—I do whatever I need to as a maid, I get to the dance—”

Ball.

“—Maybe do more maidly things to bring it all to a close, and then the credits roll.”

This is more of a novel’s narrative than a picture show’s.

“Regardless of whatever media format this is, I can worry about this 'romance subplot' later."

Oh, the romance is no subplot, stated the voice. Their tone was strangely cheery, as if it was meant to be reassuring. It is the plot—Your plot!

And we were back to square one...

"Okay, pause, just for a moment," she pleaded. "Can I...” A short, grounding breath. “Could you at least tell me your name? Something to call you by? Disembodied voice?"

I do not require a name, so please do not worry about that. I am merely your narrator, your storytelling lead!

Cecilia's finger tapped against her temple. "Alright, then I'll just give you one."

That doesn't seem right—

"DMV."

I beg your pardon?

She could practically hear the quirked eyebrow.

"Disembodied Matchmaking Voice. DMV. It seems fitting."

And they can both be equally annoying, as much as they seem to be necessary to her moving forward through whatever this was.

Another pause, soon broken by a relenting, Very well. It can persist for now—Until I decide on something more appropriate.

“Great, that's one thing settled at least—"

"Excuse me?" A soft voice, barely above a murmur, made Cecilia back snap straight as a ruler, brought back to the current reality outside of an ominously romantic voice in her head. "Miss?"

Oh my, oh my! DMV's excitement returned, clear and poignant in their voice. Your adventure finally, officially takes wing!