Felicia opened the bed curtains and climbed out of bed. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, spreading a dim light into the room. Walking over to the full length, overly ornate mirror she got a good look at her new host’s body.

As expected of a Mora: Black hair and black eyes. The hair was wavy and light, well taken care of and pleasant to the touch. As a noble, she did not work outside and had pale, clear skin with almost no wrinkles despite being in her early 30s. Because of her dark hair and eye, the paleness of her skin was contrasted and stood out more. The face was oval, with sharply curving brows under a tall forehead and round eyes. She had a narrow, long nose, thin lips, and a strong jawline.

She was about average for height and had a triangle body shape— meaning her shoulders were wide but her hips were flat. In the chest area, there was nothing amazing— either in largeness or smallness.

‘At least I'm an adult this time…’ She thought with relief. Starting as a child was a pain in the rump.

Calle had always counted herself a beauty but to Felicia she was just a bit better than average. From what Felicia could tell, it was a difference in culture and opinion. In a time period without photographs or TV, the only people to compare yourself to were other locals. A modestly pretty person like Calle could call herself a beauty only because she had limited experience with the world population.

Felicia naturally didn’t have that problem. In her original life and last mission, she’d been exposed to a wide variety of human beauties. When she looked at Calle, a small fish in a small pond, she couldn’t compete.

‘How can such a normal looking person be so evil...’

At that thought, a sharp emotion stabbed into her heart, something akin to grief and rage. It came suddenly and caught her off guard, causing her to stumble.

Gripping her chest in alarm, she asked, ‘What? What just happened?’

DARS circled her body quickly and then said, [You appear to have experienced an intense emotion.]

‘Why?!’

[I don’t know. What were you thinking before you felt this emotion?]

Felicia thought and then slapped her forehead.

‘Frick, this host is so vain!’

[This is true, but how does it relate to what just happened?]

‘I was thinking how the host’s body wasn’t as marvelous as she’d convinced herself and— ugh, right there’s that feeling again— apparently the host didn’t like my assessment.’

DARS three dots seemed to scroll across his face. [The host really is vain!]

‘Right?’ Felicia rolled her eyes and watched as the host’s reflection did the same. She pointed at the reflection and began scolding it, ‘Listen you, you’ve done whatever you wanted for over 30 years but that stops now. I’m in charge. You aren’t beautiful, you aren’t God’s gift to the world, and you aren’t special. You didn’t earn what you have and your behavior sure the frick proves you don’t deserve the extravagance in your life. Call me divine retribution for everything you’ve done, because from now on you’re earning every good thing you’ve got in your life. No more demanding or terrorizing to get your way. You will be polite, you will be sensible, and you will say thank you and please, even to servants, understand?’

As Felicia spoke she could feel her host rebelling. Thankfully the emotions were repressed and thus she remained in control, but this extreme rejection to Felicia’s will was really astonishing. Her first host had not been anywhere near as difficult. This was like dealing with an out-of-control toddler.

[Did that help?]

Felicia felt sweat break out on her forehead as she battled with her host, trying to force it to properly submit. Though she had control of the body, when the host was like this, it made doing anything awkward and uncomfortable.

‘I don’t know but I’m so annoyed with this host I don’t know if I care.’ She glared at her reflection and then smirked, ‘In fact, I think I’ll do this every morning.’

[You will scold the host fiercely every morning? Why?]

‘Because she’s never been scolded by anyone for her bad behavior. I’m going to scold her into the dirt and then build her up again into a proper lady.’

[Will that work?] DARS asked dubiously.

‘Do you think being polite and gentle with a host like this would be better?’ She crossed her arms across her chest. ‘The last host was young and hadn’t gotten set in her ways, this host is thoroughly entrenched. If I’m not firm from the beginning, she definitely won’t change.’

[...it will be interesting to see if this method works.]

Felicia walked back to the big comfy bed and got under the covers, thinking. DARS said it was better to use the domino effect rather than manual tip every domino over herself. She hadn’t perfect “tipping the dominoes” yet, but she knew that every change starts with the first step. What could she do today to begin changing the future?

As she was pondering her options, a maid knocked on the door. Calle had a specific morning routine which Felicia didn’t intend on changing. She told the maids to enter and they filed in quietly. The morning routine began: Wipe down the body in scented water, clean the face with special creams, brush and braid the hair, etc etc etc…

Somewhere in the midst of all this, she leisurely told a maid, “Tell Nanny Flor I will be eating breakfast with the Heir Childe.”

The maid with blond hair and brown eyes curtsied and said “As you wish Marchioness” before promptly leaving.

Calle “trained” her servants well. She spoke as few words to them as possible to them but they were expected to know what needed to be done. In this case, the maid would not only tell Nanny Flor, but she would also tell the kitchen staff to have food set for Querido. Nanny Flor would make sure Querido was prepared to eat with the Marchioness and the cooks would make sure the food was suitable for everyone eating.

Felicia blinked lazily while thinking sadly, ‘Ah, I can’t believe my host doesn’t even call her son by his name or even ‘my son’ at home. Just by his title. So depressing.’

After the preparations were done, Felicia followed her host’s memories to the breakfast room. Every meal had its own room: breakfast room, snack room, tea room, lunch room, etc, and even a whole other set of rooms specifically used for guests. This way of living was normal to Calle but straight up bizarre to Felicia. Was it really necessary to have so many rooms just for eating?!

The breakfast table was already set by the time Calle arrived. Standing by the table was Nanny Flor and little Querido. When Felicia stared at the boy, there was only indifference and a little ridicule from the host. No motherly affection at all. A useless mother indeed!

Felicia at least thought this kid was cute and a little funny. He was wearing formal wear meant for children. Unfortunately, this era believed that all small children looked best in frilly dresses, boys included. So even though he was a boy, his dress was stuffed full of frills. If his hair hadn’t been cut shorter and tied at the nap of his neck, she’d have mistaken him for a cute little girl.

When her eyes landed on his dyed black hair she internally sighed. She wanted to see his emerald green hair. She grew up with straight black hair in her original life and so found it familiar and boring. How tragic was it that her fake son had such crazy amazing hair and she wasn’t able to see it?!

She sat down and realized that her son was still standing. Calle never ate with her son, so Felicia didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of: “You look really cute today. Have a seat and eat with me, heh~” but what came out was, “The Heir Childe is acceptable today. Sit.”

Felicia internally slapped her host. That was clearly her host rebelling against Felicia’s will! This spoiled rotten, terrible awful host—!

The boy’s lifeless expression did not change.

He said in a childish but serious voice, “Thank you Mother.” and then got in the chair. Fortunately a booster seat had been provided, otherwise he would have had trouble eating on such a huge ornate chair.

Breakfast was served and they ate quietly. Noble’s didn’t speak with food in their mouths, so conversation during meals was usually kept short. That said, the silence in this case was clearly because one side had no intention of speaking and the other side didn’t dare.

‘DARS, how could my host change what I wanted to say?’ Felicia asked, still fuming over what had happened.

[I am surprised too. It seems this host, despite having her emotions suppressed, has an astonishingly strong will. Though the host can’t stop you from moving the body and can not stop you from speaking, apparently she can alter what you say. Most likely, unless you both are in agreement, she will constantly change what you want to say to suit herself.]

‘That’s a bug, right? Can’t you fix it???’

[Unfortunately, no.]

Felicia’s grip on her spoon tightened slightly. ‘How can I complete my mission goals if every time I open my mouth I sound arrogant and mean?!’

DARS glowed thoughtfully before saying, [I believe you can do it.]

‘Empty platitudes aren’t going to help me!’ She wailed at him in frustration.

When breakfast was done, she coldly dismissed her host’s son. She got up and went to the office.

Calle did not concern herself with bothersome matters like running the fief or the mansion she lived in. Her host had given all those responsibilities to the Viscount and the Steward. The Viscount ran the fief and the Steward the mansion. Beyond that, Calle didn’t know any details, leaving Felicia equally ignorant.

From what Felicia could tell based on the little information she got from Calle’s memories, the Viscount and Steward positions were the equivalent of mid-management in a company, with the Viscount the higher “paid” position. What Calle had done was give middle management the same powers as the company president. Other than making the boss happy, they had no restrictions on what they could do.

Felicia’s heart trembled before she opened a single book in the office. Calle was the sort of ruler who picked her people based off of connections and bootlicking. Competency and skill were never put into her mind. There was no way any of the people Calle kept beside her were good, honest people….

The Viscount was not in the office, instead his assistant was there. The assistant was extremely surprised to see the Marchioness appear. But the surprise only showed for a moment and then was politely schooled into a neutral expression.

For a moment they stood there awkwardly and then Felicia remembered an annoying tidbit about aristocracy in this country: nobles always spoke first and only after that could a commoner speak.

She glanced at him and said, “Speak.”

He looked relieved and asked politely. “How may I help the Marchioness today?”

Felicia went over to the big, solid wood desk and sat down. Glancing cooly at the assistant, she ordered, “Give me all books related to mansion finances within the last year.”

If the assistant had been surprised before, he was absolutely stunned speechless this time. Calle had never cracked open a book in this office her entire married life. If she wanted to know something, she asked the Viscount and he told her, in small easy to understand words, what she wanted to know.

Felicia narrowed her eyes and added, “Now.”

The “please” that was supposed to be at the end of the sentence never made it out, leaving Felicia feeling vexed.

The assistant, whose name Calle didn’t know and thus Felicia didn’t know, saw the Marchioness’ annoyed expression and paled. Without further delays, he grabbed what was asked for as quickly as he was able.

A suspiciously small stack of books was the result. Felicia stared at the covers and discovered she could read them. It was a really strange thing to read a foreign language fluently without having practiced. The last timeline had been in English, this one was… well, she thought it was similar to Spanish. Maybe. That would explain the names...

On further reflection, she realized no one was speaking English and she’d only just now noticed.

‘Woah, how bizarre...’ She thought, ‘Am I thinking in English or this country’s language? I can’t even tell…’

[You are thinking in your native tongue, as that is easiest. However, when you speak it is filtered through the host and comes out in the local language.]

‘Oooooh…. wait. Isn’t that how this stupid host is changing my words then? Since technically she’s responsible for making sure it comes out in a way people can understand?’

[Yes. This is why it can’t be changed.]

‘What about what I hear? Is that filtered too?’

[Yes.]

‘...doesn’t that mean she’s controlling what people are saying to me?!’

[No. What is heard can not be manipulated, as the brain of the host automatically understands what is said before the host’s bias can filter it. Words that have a direct match, are directly matched. Phrases or ideas are automatically translated to the nearest meaning in your language. The only time there are discrepancies is when there is no equivalent in your native tongue. In those cases, the host will supply extra information. If that still does not work, I am programmed to explain further.]

Felicia took out a book marked the oldest and opened it.

‘So….. the only time the host can interfere with what I hear is for words or ideas that there is no equivalent in my language?’

[Yes.]

‘Would it be possible…. For you to warn me when that happens?’

[In this timeline, I can.]

‘You can’t in future timelines?’

[It is better to focus on the current timeline than the future ones.]

His vagueness meant he wasn’t allowed to say. She didn’t press him further, knowing it would be useless.

After reading a few pages, she turned to the assistant and attempted to politely ask where the writing equipment was located. The desk only had an ink bottle, but lacked quills or paper. Was any work actually done here?

What came out was a stiff demand, “Clean paper and quill.”

“Yes, Marchioness.” The assistant hurried to get what she wanted.

Soon a brand new quill, ink bottle, and paper had been provided. She sighed internally. Was it even possible for her to politely ask for something in this host?

With what she needed now at her fingertips, she began copying various numbers and tallying up the math. She’d never used a quill before but Calle had and was proficient in using it thanks to being a noblewoman who sent out letters frequently.

As Felicia suspected, the numbers did not add up. Someone had cooked the books, and really poorly too. She could tell at a glance something wasn’t right and had only written it out to double check and have a personal copy to compare with later.

While she was writing, she saw the assistant inch his way out. Before he could leave and tattle on her to someone, she firmly ordered, “Stay.”

The assistant could only agree.

Despite the size of the mansion and the amount of people that worked in it, the accounting was sparse. No attempt was made at accuracy EXCEPT when it concerned the Marchioness' bills. Felicia wanted to laugh out loud. Of course they kept track of Calle’s spending— that way if anything went horrifically wrong, they could point at her as the problem.

It took her less than an hour to get through what was available, drying the ink on the paper, she neatly stacked them. Before she left, she turned to the assistant and said threateningly, “What I do is not the Viscount’s business.”

The assistant nodded so hard his head looked like it would fall off.

Well, for once Felicia appreciated her host’s bristling meanness. She didn’t trust the people Calle had hired. She was feared, but not by everyone and not in equal amounts. For instance, the Viscount likely didn’t fear her very much. In the way that Calle used Querido, the Viscount was using Calle. He took “good care” of her because it benefited him. But if she stopped being useful? What then?

She didn’t control very much directly. Her tyrannical rule was thanks to the equally vile people who worked for her. Those kinds of people could only be bought or suppressed into obedience, once the money was gone or the fear removed, they’d betray their masters instantly.

Calle’s past behavior meant she had too many ways to be blackmailed. It was an open secret in the mansion that she’d slept around while married. Though the mute Nanny was the only one left who knew for sure Querido was a bastard child, everyone in the Mansion suspected. The Steward who’d help “dispose” of the real witnesses likely guessed as much even without seeing that emerald green hair. And all those accidents, illnesses, and sudden disappearances? Yeah, those could easily be traced back to Calle.

All it took to bring her down was if Steward decided he didn’t like the look of her anymore.

‘Hey DARS, why hasn’t anyone ratted out Calle before? It would have been so easy...’

[You are thinking like a modern person. Nobles and commoners are separated by more than wealth, they are separated by status, which is a mindset. Status is more precious than gold and dictates a person’s value and who they are obligated to serve. Commoners serve all nobles, lower nobles serve lesser nobles, and lesser nobles serve higher nobles, and all serve the King.]

‘But if a noble is bad like my host—’

[It does not matter. Even if your host is a terrible person, by virtue of being a noble, commoners must obey her. If they dare to disobey, even for a righteous cause that everyone can get behind, they will be punished. Minor disobedience will get a beating but severe disobedience can be a death sentence.]

Felicia was flabbergasted. ‘You mean even if a commoner does the right thing, by disobeying a noble they’ll still get in trouble?’

[Correct.]

‘Even if they save someone’s life?’

[Yes.]

‘That’s just stupid!’

[Do you think the society you came from was without fault?]

‘W—well, no…’ She mentally frowned and came at the topic from a different perspective, ‘Didn’t you say this nation needed to be saved? In that case, how they do things really IS stupid. So there.’

[My opinion is not taken into account when a nation's fate is decided. That it needs to be saved has nothing to do with me.]

‘So you think this kind of terrible system is fine?!’

[I think it’s normal.]

‘How can you think it’s normal?!’

[I have been through many timelines and seen many governments and rulers. Humanity consistently favors this hierarchical approach over true independence. Perhaps it’s because humans are innately social. Any group must have structure to survive and so it eventually turns into something like this….] DARS paused, [In fact, the system in place in this kingdom is not too bad. They have a court system and law enforcement. It is just that the quality of the nobles is directly proportional to the quality of the King. And the last few kings have been lacking.]

‘...I still don’t like it…’ Felicia muttered sulkily.

[Even if you don’t like it, this is the system you’ll be working in.]

‘...ok, so it is what it is. Then…” She sighed and tried to think optimistically, “then… I don’t need to be sneaky, right? If I want things to change, I should just be able to order everyone around and they’ll listen?’

[Your host consistently disobeyed the King’s Law.]

‘Yeah? So?’

[That means everyone who works for the host also defied the King.]

‘Right. We’re a posse of criminals. Rise together, fall together.’

[Criminals. Yes. If they were willing to disobey the King, the highest authority in the land, do you think it would be hard for them to disobey you?]

‘....oh.’ She deflated. ‘But that’s so contradictory. They won’t rat me out because I’m their lord or whatever, but they won’t obey me because we’ve disobeyed the king…’

[That kind of contradiction is why this country is corrupt. Commoners and nobles decided they are better than the King, choosing which laws to follow and which to ignore. Not even the King can do that. Your host is the same. She gives obedience to those above her, but only on the surface. In secret she constantly breaks the rules and even delights in doing so. Yet she demands to be respected as though she were an honorable noble rather than a disgrace to be shunned.]

Felicia mentally groaned. ‘Why did I think being a noble would be great? I hate aristocracy! This is terrible!’

[Only because everyone is so corrupt.]

‘Thanks, Mr. Obvious. Super helpful.’

[Fine, if you are going to be sarcastic when I am being helpful, I will not speak anymore…] He floated to the corner of the room to sulk.

Seeing him pout, she laughed and suddenly felt a little better. No matter how bad things got or how much they argued, he would always be there for her. Just knowing there was someone like that in her life, gave her courage to face the tomorrow.