She had been Artemisia for eight days. The name still didn’t feel like hers, but she had accepted her situation… somewhat.

  After carefully observing the people around her, and asking a lot of questions that usually resulted in worried expressions and careful words, Artemisia – for she supposed that was her for now – had come to a conclusion.

  She had transmigrated, just like in those romantasy stories she used to read obsessively. It hadn’t made it any easier to accept what was going on, but at least it had made a lot of things make sense. The only issue was…

  Aren’t you supposed to know who you’ve become, or what story you’ve transmigrated into?

  Artemisia had asked for a list of all the aristocratic families – because of course there were nobles – and she hadn’t recognised a single one. Nothing was familiar, not one surname or duke or count rang a bell.

  And who was she?

  Well, she was Artemisia Estella von Lindt, the second child of the Lindt duchy, close relative of the imperial family and a member of one of the most influential bloodlines of the Seraphim Empire. She had everything a young noblewoman should want: money, friends, influence.

  And yet. That wasn’t her. Not originally. She had been someone else once, and she didn’t quite know who. Her memories of her previous self were jumbled, disjointed, and if she tried too hard to recall them she was stricken with painful headaches. Flashes of clarity would come to her sometimes, but slip away just as fast. However, it had been enough for her to realise the similarities of this world with the settings of some of her favourite webnovels and webcomics.

  The people around her had reacted to her distress and confusion in various ways. The doctor had diagnosed her with amnesia-induced hysteria, something that Artemisia personally found insulting, but understood why it would seem that was from the outside.

  Of course I must have seemed mad to them, during those first few days, when I kept saying I wasn’t Artemisia.

  She didn’t know her original name, or how old she’d been, or what she’d done for a job. She could remember up to her late teens relatively well, but past that, it all devolved into fragmented thoughts and images.

  I’m pretty sure I was a scientist; I’ve seen rooms that resemble labs in my memories, but what exactly did I study? Does it have something to do with how I died? Did I even die? What did I do to end up here?

  Artemisia leaned back in her chair with a sigh. It was time to cut those thoughts off. It didn’t do her any good to linger on them for too long. It was best for her to adapt to this world as best as possible, and hope that she would recognise something in the future, something that would tell her what kind of story she was in for.

  This is crazy. I’m thinking about this as if it’s no big deal.

  She looked at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. She still had an hour until dinner, which she wasn’t looking forward to. The von Lindt family ate dinner as a family, and Artemisia, despite only attending two so far, found them incredibly awkward.

  Her supposed amnesia had been her saving grace. Apart from the patronising feeling of being treated like a newborn child, it had allowed her to ask questions and blunder her way through the past two weeks with ease. However, she was constantly bombarded with sad, pitying looks, and the constant coaxing of her family members and Elise to remember certain facts or events.

  Talking of Elise…

  “Elise, can I ask you something?” Artemisia beckoned the young maid over from where she sat in the corner of the room.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Of course, my lady!” Elise put down the shirt she was mending and hurried over to stand in front of Artemisia.

  “What did I do to fill free time? You know, before. I’ve finished reading through this list of nobles,” Artemisia motioned to the list on the coffee table, “and now I’m bored.”

  I’ve been bored for a week, in fact. First they wouldn’t let me get out of bed, and now they won’t let me leave my room for any longer than absolutely necessary. Don’t they know the best medicine is fresh air and gentle exercise?!

  “Oh, did you remember anyone?” Elise asked.

  Artemisia sighed. “Not a single one. It might as well all be gibberish to me.”

  “I see…”

  There it is, that pitying look again. She’s not the most professional of maids, is she? Well, the old Artemisia must have liked her, since she’s been her personal maid for two years now.

  “Well, to answer your previous question, you liked to paint! You never liked to show anyone what you made, but from what I’ve seen, you were quite a wonder with watercolours. Oh! And you were skilled with music – you liked to sing, and also play the pianoforte!”

  “Woah…”

  “That’s not all, my lady! You were spoke multiple languages as well! Not only did you speak Sargassian, but also Old Kremmish, and you were learning Nascial!”

  It sounds like Artemisia was a very skilled lady. Damn, I’ve got a lot to catch up on. Not only am I going to have to learn etiquette and how society functions here, but I’ll have to learn all this stuff again as well probably.

  “My lady? Are you feeling alright?”

  “Oh um, yes, I’m alright!” Artemisia rubbed her eyes. “I was thinking that I’ll have to work hard to make up for what I’ve lost.”

  “Don’t worry!” Elise exclaimed. “Your memories will surely return!”

  “Haha…” Artemisia smiled weakly. “We’ll see…”

  I’m sorry to break it to you, but if that does happen, they’re not going to help. After all, I’m not the real Artemisia, and the memories I’m missing aren’t hers.

  She abruptly stood up and moved to the window, looking past the manor grounds, and to the land beyond. Mountains bordered the horizon, capped with white.

  When I look at those mountains and ignore everything else, I can almost pretend I’m back on Earth, out for a hike somewhere, and not a stranger in a strange land.

  Artemisia stared out of the window blankly, her mind wandering.

  I wonder what happened to the real Artemisia? Nobody really seems to know why she collapsed, just that they found her body by the lake on the night of a meteor shower.

  I should ask more about that day, what Artemisia was doing to end up there, since that’s the only lead I’ve got right now.

  But before that…

  “Elise, I’m going to get ready for dinner early.”

  “Very well, my lady! What would you like to wear?” Elise scurried over to my wardrobe and started looking through it. “How about this blue satin?”

  “For dinner?” Artemisia raised an eyebrow. “Do I really need to get changed just to eat with my family?”

  “You certainly can’t go in your nightgown!” Elise said hotly.

  Artemisia looked down at the flowing white dress she was wearing, with delicate gold thread embroidery on the capped sleeves and neckline. “You sure?”

  “My lady!”

  “Fine, fine…”