queenofthefuzzybugs

As mentioned in the author's note on Rose #1, I am thinking of rewriting this story. To that end, here are two teaser chapters of this story, fully fleshed out. Let me know what you think in the comments!

There are a few things you should know about me:

One: I go by Cammy, not Camilla Florentine. 

Two: I don’t belong in this world.

Three: I’m destined to die.

Originally I was in my final year of college. Life was good. I had returned home for the last vacation before graduation.

A hobby of mine was playing really terrible games. It’s like how some people love B-movies. It’s the fact that they’re awful and cringy that keeps you coming back for more. That’s how I am with games.

As long as there’s no game-breaking bugs, I’ll play it.

I acquired an otome game—through less legitimate means—that was released in the early 2000s called “Life is But a Rose”.  Otome games, in layman's terms, are a kind of dating simulation targeted at women that’s played in a similar fashion as a choose-your-own-adventure book. But instead of adventures, you’re picking romantic partners. 

This game was bad. From the characters to the game mechanics, the entire process was torture.

I loved it!

Of course I heckled it the entire way through playing it. It took less than a day, as it wasn’t a very well designed game, and by the wee-hours of the morning I’d conquered the “targets”: that is, those characters that could be romanced.

I fell asleep thinking whoever wrote the story part of this game was a moron. 

It was like someone took every cliche they could think of and packed it into the game. It was difficult to see the value in romancing any of the men because they all had painfully cookie-cutter personalities. I could have written better characters— and I’m no writer.

And then I woke up the next morning to discover I was in the body of a non-playable character called Camilla Florentine. In the game, which started when she was a teenager, Camilla Florentine was a spoiled, arrogant girl who would actively harass the player. 

In three of the four routes, she bullied the player out of envy. If it was just scripted bullying, no one would care, but it was randomized. What this meant was that sometimes a player would be trying to get to an event, only to get “caught” by Camilla and miss it. Missing a crucial event or missing a series of events, would mean the player couldn’t romance a certain capture target. 

If that wasn’t annoying enough, on the Crown Prince’s route she became murderously jealous. Mercifully her attacks weren’t randomized but choice based. However, without using a guide, it was impossible to know which choice would cause her appearance. Sometimes choosing something innocent like eating outside instead of inside was enough to trigger a Death Flag.

There were so many ways for a player to die in the Crown Prince’s route specifically because of Camilla Florentine. And there was no mental preparation for dying. In the other routes no one dies and the worst that can happen is the character you play graduates on friendly terms with the target they failed to romance. To suddenly die and get a Game Over screen without any warning is enough to test the most patient person.

To the surprise of no one, Camilla Florentine is the most hated character in the game. 

And this was for a game that was disliked by everyone who played it.

How did I end up in a game character’s body? 

And not just that, how did I get sucked into the game? Was I dreaming or was this real? It certainly felt real but how was that possible? How do I get back home?

At first I thought I was going through a dream world, similar to the Wizard of Oz. There must be a key, some red slippers maybe, that will get me back. I just needed to find my “yellow brick road”.

Searching the area around Camilla’s house—I suppose more accurately called a manor—lived in was easy. The servants catered to my every whim and honestly seemed relieved that I was wandering outside of my own volition.

However, the body of a 5 year old is limited. I walked every which way only to discover that I’d never left the manor’s backyard! When I asked how far out the yard went, I was informed the estate went as far as the eye could see in all four directions. If a person went to the top floor and looked out the window, they wouldn’t see the end of it.

I didn’t expect to be in a place that large and quickly realized I’d need help leaving. I’d gotten everything I asked for already, so I didn’t bother to hide that I wanted to go beyond the estate’s property. 

The servants, who’d been fairly laid back about my behavior until then, became excited about my request. It wasn’t until later that I realized leaving the estate was a big deal. It involved a big, glittering carriage, servants, and even guards!

The trip was disappointing. It turned out that, despite all the slack I’d been given, when it came to leaving home there were rules that the servants wouldn’t budge on. I didn’t get to choose where we went, not just in terms of the city, but also in terms of the places within the city. 

With the limitations I was under, how could I possibly find my “yellow brick road”?

I tried sneaking away, but the entourage of people around me made it impossible. 

It was only then that I realized that the supposed freedom I was given at home wasn’t freedom at all. It was more like Camilla was put into a cage. Everything in the cage was safe, allowing Camilla to do whatever she wanted. 

But outside the cage? 

It was clear there were rules that Camilla had to follow.

This wouldn’t do at all. If I couldn’t freely search the city, I’d never know for sure if I’d missed something.

With that in mind I went home and carefully watched the servants. A big estate like this had to have stuff brought in from the outside. If I “hitched a ride” on someone here on business, I should be able to leave.

The first time I was successful in getting out. No one expected me to leave, or in their words “run away”. However, they noticed my absence fairly quickly and sent out a search party. I was found in the delivery carriage before an hour had ended.

The proceeding attempts at escaping went about as well as you can expect. They were alerted to my attempt at escaping, and kept a hawk eye on all exits from then on. 

Eventually I gave up. Their vigilance would make it difficult for an adult to sneak out, much less a 5 year old with short legs.

This series of events, which happened over several weeks, should have been enough to convince me I wasn’t in a dream. But it still hadn’t sunk in yet. I still felt this world couldn’t be real.

Escaping to find my “yellow brick road” wasn’t working. I decided that I should try something else. 

People always pinched themselves to check if they were sleeping in stories. But pinching myself didn’t work, nor did slapping myself. Maybe I needed something more extreme... If I scared myself, could I be shocked awake?

Desperation really makes people do stupid things…

My escape attempts could be brushed off as youthful rebellion by the servants, but what I did next really alarmed them…

During meal times I’d try to jab or cut myself with a fork or knife. When I was given spoons at meals, I snuck into the kitchen to find something sharp. When the kitchen was sealed off, I’d find anything stick shaped and hit myself with it. Slowly, the entire manor was turned upside with servants desperately trying to remove anything “hazardous” I might get my hands on.

And then I did something that broke them: I tried to jump out the window of the manor’s top floor.

This was too much for the servants. They blew up in a panic and called for a doctor while at the same time sending an urgent message requesting Duke Florentine return.

Duke Florentine is Camilla’s father.

I’d heard about him, I even saw a painting of him and his wife, Camilla’s deceased mother, when they were younger. The manor had a gallery with all the family paintings in it. If not for that, I would have no idea what Camilla’s parents looked like.

Duke Florentine had platinum blond hair, sharp icy blue eyes, and a diamond shaped face with a strong jaw and thin lips, which seemed quirked in a sneer. Then narrowness and set of his eyes made him look like he was glaring at the viewer. He’d have looked handsome if he didn’t look a little evil.

The Duchess looked much softer, even her colors were dim: brown hair and eyes, a heart shaped face, full lips, and large expressive eyes. Actually, she was a little bit plain when compared to the Duke. But at least her resting expression looked content and peaceful.

Camilla had her father’s coloring but her mother’s face shape, except that her eyes were tilted exactly like the Duke’s. This one unfortunate change made it seem that Camilla was chronically wide eyed and glaring. Camilla, like her father, would have looked adorable if she didn’t look a little bit evil.

Despite having been stuck in this world for over a month at that point, Duke Florentine never came home. No one seemed to feel the complete absence of any parental figures in Camilla’s life was unusual either. Unbelievably, Camilla Florentine was basically raised like a latchkey kid. 

I was startled by this discovery. The game only showed Camilla as a spoiled and arrogant rich-girl from a Duke’s family. There was never any mention of her being neglected.

It suddenly made a lot of sense that Game Camilla turned into a love-mad person later in her life. She never formed the connections needed to be emotionally healthy. It’s unlikely she knew how to love or be loved without self-destructing. I felt a little sorry for her, but only a little. 

No matter how pitiful, that’s not an excuse to go on a murderous rampage from jealousy. 

Anyway.

My first impression of Duke Florentine was that he had a mean face and domineering personality. He arrived at the Duchy like a hurricane, demanding answers and acting as though heads would roll for his daughter being “in such a state”. All the servants trembled at his hostile, overbearing attitude.

As for me? I didn’t even get a hello from him! It was the strangest thing. He talked all concerned about his daughter but didn’t seem particularly interested in talking to her. It almost felt like he was avoiding her, that is me, but before I could decide whether I was imagining it or not, the Doctor arrived.

The Doctor.

He was an old man with a fluffy beard and kind eyes. When he saw that I was nervous because of Duke Florentine, he shooed everyone out of the room. His gentle attitude and consideration made me lower my guard. In a moment of weakness I told him the truth.

Who I really was, where I came from, and how I was desperately trying to leave this place. He listened to everything I said, asked me some questions to which I replied eagerly, and then pat me on the head. I was surprised and relieved to have someone finally listen to my story.

And then came the diagnosis.

The Doctor said I’d suffered some kind of mental shock and had withdrawn from reality. I had invented a whole different world with a different family in an attempt to deal with whatever trauma I’d received. He prescribed calming medication, to settle my mind and emotions. He advised the Duke to closely interrogate the manor staff to see what had happened to me and then have me strictly monitored to prevent further self harm.

I’d never felt so betrayed as I did at that moment. 

Camilla’s father believed the Doctor’s diagnosis completely and was furious to discover his daughter had suffered so severely in his absence that she’d lost her mind. He interrogated every servant in the manor like some kind of demon, scaring people into tears. 

The lucky ones got dismissed. Then there were the ones, like my Nanny, who were directly held responsible for what had happened to me. They were whipped 30 times before being sent away to live out a 10 year prison sentence.

I could hear the servants wailing and pleading for mercy from my bedroom. I couldn’t do anything for them. The world felt horrifically real in that moment and I finally understood that I was truly a helpless child here.

Telling the truth had caused innocent, hard working people to suffer. I never forgot the guilt I felt over my powerlessness. It stuck with me long after I’d left the Florentine manor.

After that, I decided I would never ever tell the truth about my real identity. People would only get hurt if I did and it’s not like anyone would believe me.

Duke Florentine fired most of the servants and had them replaced. The new servants were strict, rigid, and followed the Duke’s instructions precisely. They were the poster-children for professionalism. There was no dotting, no spoiling, no turning a blind eye to my eccentric behavior from this group. 

As for a new nanny, it was determined I was old enough to have a personal maid instead, named Miss Tollis. She was the worst out of all of them. She never said more than necessary, never gave her opinion, and always followed orders perfectly. Specifically the Duke’s orders, not my orders. I was forced to take calming medication every day thanks to that maid. 

I have to give the Doctor credit, whatever was in that medication definitely kept me “calm”. But it did so at the expense of my ability to think. It was difficult to respond to simple yes or no questions, as I lacked the ability to concentrate and felt sleepy all the time. Weeks passed by in a blur, and to this day I can’t remember anything while on the full dose of that drug.

Eventually the Doctor came back and, seeing me being obedient, began to reduce the strength of the medication. As this happened, I was gradually able to concentrate and string coherent thoughts together. 

After my head cleared, I decided that I’d been foolish. What if I’d accidentally maimed myself? Pain was a real thing in this world and like any sensible person I wanted to avoid it. I could have also died. Death might be the “red slippers” I needed to get back home or…. I might just stay dead. I had no way of knowing, and the risk wasn’t worth it.

With that in mind, I began to prioritize being well behaved. Whatever the adults wanted to hear, I told them. It didn’t matter what was true or not to me anymore, just as long as I could convince them to stop shoving that questionable medicine down my throat and regain some measure of freedom. 

It took an entire year before I convinced them to stop giving me anymore “medicine”. But because they feared I might still be suicidal, I remained under strict house arrest for another year. 

The year of being under house arrest was particularly awful. I had all the energy of a 5 year old but was limited to my bedroom, the library, the bathroom, and a short walk outside in the morning. I was monitored 24/7, even while sleeping!

It. Was. So. Boring! 

My only entertainment at first was the library. Thankfully Camilla could read and even more thankfully that skill was passed on to me. I don’t know what the adults would have done to me if they thought I’d suddenly become illiterate. 

The Florentine family had a magnificent library. They had books of every kind imaginable and lots of comfy places to sit and read them. I was given an hour to read a day and, later, I was allowed to take the book with me to my room.

At first I picked books at random. I didn’t know anything about the world and now that I’d accepted I was stuck here, it occurred to me I should learn something more than what the game had taught me. Which wasn’t much when I thought about it.

Outside of the country I was living in, called Ailandale, the game didn’t give much information. I knew Ailandale was a bit like Europe based on how they dressed and that there were knights, but that was it. Ancient history? Neighboring nations? Regional politics? It was never touched on.

But to be fair, this was an Otome game that focused on teenage romances. And it wasn’t a good otome game either. Expecting it to do anything interesting like give some historical context to the characters would be asking too much of it.

One day I grabbed a book called “The Scandalous History of the Republic of Rynar”. I wasn’t sure how a country could have a scandalous history but with nothing else to do, I was willing to find out.

The Republic of Rynar was considered “scandalous” because they rebelled against their nobles. Not only did they rebel, they chopped them into pieces. To push home how horrific the rebellion was, the author included some eye-catching wood-stamped pictures of the executions. These pictures were enough to shock me, despite having grown up watching all kinds of violent movies.

Really, this was not the sort of book a child should be reading!

Good thing none of the servants seemed to be aware of the content in this book! 

Hehe.

The author thought the rebellion was bad, but funnily it was not the worst thing. The worst thing Rynar did was create an “unnatural” system of government. They didn’t have a King or nobles to rule them, but instead they voted people into power. And depending on the position, they were forced to retire after so many years and a new person would be voted in. Though there were some obvious differences, this country reminded me a lot of the one I had come from.

I was shocked to discover a country similar to mine existed in this world. It made me feel homesick but also hopeful. Could I go there someday, after I grew up?

I wanted to know more about this country that was similar to the one I’d grown up in. I went back to the library and was surprised to discover that there was an entire section devoted just to the Republic of Rynar. It was organized in a different manner than the rest of the library, hinting that this had been someone's personal collection.

Did someone in the Florentine family have an obsession with this country? Maybe it had been Camilla’s mother, the deceased Duchess?

Well, it’s not like I had anyone to ask. Duke Florentine still spent most of his time away from home and the servants that might have known were all gone now. 

I began working through the books in this section, reading up on this curious country. 

The more I read, the more I liked it. Everything about it was so different from Ailandale.

They didn’t like nobles, they rejected the idea of “Divine authority” and insisted that power came from the people. Their culture was more modern too. It wasn’t uncommon for women to work, even while raising children. Dating was common and marriages were decided by individuals instead of families. 

What a great place! Why did the stupid game focus on Ailandale when next door had country that allowed dating? I wish I could beat the developers for their poor choices!

Though I enjoyed reading, I was limited to how long I could read. This was not of my own choosing, but one imposed on me by my Miss Tollis. My entire day was regimented by Miss Tollis and it was enough to make me want to cry.

Not being able to read all day long like I wanted forced me to hunt around my room for alternatives. I discovered the child-sized desk I’d been ignoring all this time was filled with papers, empty journals, dried ink bottles and fountain pens. 

Hand-writing, particularly cursive, was the way people wrote in this world. However, just like in my world, there was also a hobbyist version that turned writing into an artform. Apparently, at some point, Camilla had taken a brief interest in practicing the artform of calligraphy. 

Based on the papers used and the barely filled out journal, this was a very very brief interest.

But at least this hobby was appropriate for a nobleman’s daughter and it was something Camilla had been interested in before her unfortunate bout of “hysterics.” Therefore, when I took an interest in it, Miss Tollis was relieved and eagerly encouraged my interest, to the point that she opened up my schedule to allow me to practice more.

When word made it back to Camilla’s father that she was finally taking interest in something normal and healthy, he was greatly relieved. Or I assume he was, because this “never-home” father ordered—from afar of course— for an adjacent room from mine to be turned into an art studio and then filled it with every art supply imaginable. 

How he’d made the jump from calligraphy to art I’ll never quite understand. But as this gave me another room I could visit, I wasn’t going to complain.

In addition to reading and calligraphy, plus some subpar dabbling in painting, I also got in the habit of keeping a secret journal. They had finally stopped monitoring me while I slept, which meant that there was a time in the early hours of the morning where I had the sun to give me light for writing without servants present to peep over my shoulder.

The reason I needed the sunlight was because I had no way to light the lamps in my room. And even if I could do that, they’d be able to tell if I’d used them and start asking questions. I didn’t want them nosing too much.

My secret journal was my life-line and kept me from totally losing myself.

On those soft paper pages I could write my real feelings and thoughts, talk how I wanted to talk and rant about every little thing that bothered me. When I filled up a journal, I would stick it in a book I’d borrowed and then take it back to the library, hiding it in whatever space I could find. This worked surprisingly well as no one but Duke Florentine or myself was allowed to read the books there. 

As the years passed, my real family became blurry in my mind. It made me anxious, I felt like I was losing the most important parts of myself. Instead of ranting in my journals, I began recording every scrap of information I could remember about my “true home”. I even scribbled drawings, though poorly, to make sure I had a rough idea of what things looked like. No matter how small and inane the detail, I put it down.

It was better to write about nonsense than to forget.

I never did figure out how to get back to my real home. Maybe you’ll think me weak, but after everything I went through I gave up on the idea of returning. I thought if I got lucky maybe I’d stumble onto an answer, but otherwise surviving in this world became my priority.

I didn’t think of this world as a “game world” per say. It was more like this world was very similar to the game. Where the game mentioned something explicitly and with detail, this world followed along in the same manner, but where the game said nothing or was vague, this world was colorful and diverse. There were all sorts of things never mentioned in the game, giving me numerous alternative paths to follow. 

As for the game storyline, I had already changed it by being mistaken for disturbed child and accidentally ruining the manor servant’s lives. Though Game Camilla’s early years weren’t mentioned, if she’d gone crazy as a child I’m positive that would have come up at some point, especially in the Prince’s route.

But I was still concerned. The fact that Duke Florentine and Camilla existed suggested that, if I hadn’t popped up, the storyline events of the game would have happened. It was now just a matter of how much my existence causes this world to deviate from the game. Had I changed it enough to drastically alter things later?

I had a reason to be nitpicky about this distinction.

Game Camilla had a very bad…. fate, if you will. She died in various ways. All of which I’d like to avoid. If this world generally went along the lines of the game story by default, it was important I try to change my situation now to avoid anything nasty in the future.

How do I make sure I don’t die like the game character?

I was lucky to even know that Camilla died multiple ways, as she wasn’t a main character. The only reason her “endings” came up at all was because the game always told the player what happened to the men who were left unromanced at the end of the game. And, as Camilla was the Prince’s fiance, she would get mentioned too. 

It was usually just a single line though. The detail was sorely lacking. Without understanding the why and how of Camilla’s death routes, how could I avoid the trigger, the “flag”, that caused me to go down them? With so many unknowns, wasn’t it possible I could be ignorantly walking straight to my own doom?

I thought long and hard about this problem. 

After looking at every angle I concluded the Crown Prince was the first major death flag. If I could avoid meeting him, perhaps also stay out of national politics, I should be able to live comfortably. Game Camilla had been engaged to the Prince since childhood, a fact she trumpeted at every opportunity, so I knew that the best way to avoid the Prince was simply not to get engaged to him.

As mentioned before, Duke Florentine was rarely home. However, the few times I’d interacted with him proved to me he wasn’t exceptionally good at listening. For instance, his generous gift of the art studio was done without ever asking me what I wanted. 

That wouldn’t be the first or last time he did something like that. You wouldn’t think this attitude would be worth complaining about, but it’s actually really irritating to be continually given gifts you don’t want and never asked for. When I ventured to correct this behavior, I was asked if I was “feeling alright”. Perhaps it was said out of genuine concern, but all I heard was: “Do you want to take more calming medication?”

That kept me quiet but it didn’t stop me from being annoyed. 

The only loophole I could find was by requesting things specifically. He would always give me what I wanted. But what could a child who had everything ask for in the end? And I, an adult coming from a place with game systems and the internet, was even more stumped on what to request. All the things I wanted he couldn’t give me. I ran out of things to ask for almost immediately! 

He filled the void by sending me gifts he must have thought little girls would like. Sometimes it was clear he was thinking the gift was a “proper gift for a Duke’s daughter”. Wave after wave of these kinds of gifts...

It was annoying, but I tolerated it. What could I do but tolerate? I’d get threatened if I didn’t accept what he was giving me. I clamped down on my frustration and pretended to be happy.

It was important I be happy and not just begrudging. I needed to be on good terms with him. He needed to think I was sane and obedient, so he would listen to me where it mattered.

Every time I met Camilla’s father, which wasn’t often, I brought up how much I loved the Floren Duchy. I didn’t want to leave it. If marrying meant being away from Papa, I’d rather never get married, etc, etc. Every childish excuse I could think to use to press home the point of having someone marrying into the Florentine family rather than me marrying out of it, I used. Not only did this please him, it was emphasising how he didn’t need to marry me off to the Crown Prince.

I thought I was doing well. 

Duke Florentine always agreed with me with a jolly expression on his face. 

The unwanted gifts increased too, proving he liked what I was saying.

Everything was fine until I turned 10 years old.