Flood of a Soldier's Memories
As the night deepened, I found myself persistently courted by the many princes present at the gathering.
Yet I declined each one with careful courtesy.
My heart… had already been claimed by the prince who was my true love.
From this night onward I resolved to dance with him alone.
I sipped champagne and waited, aching for his approach…
But the longer the wait stretched, the more unbearable the anticipation became.
In the middle of conversation with countless guests, a familiar-looking woman addressed me.
"Princess, happy birthday. You helped so much with the recovery after the Latvian civil war… I cannot thank you enough. And you are so very beautiful, Princess."
"You are most welcome, Lady Irene."
I answered with a slight smile—then caught sight of Rosie, Lady Irene’s maidservant.
Rosie looked ordinary enough, yet something… a memory… stirred inside my mind.
A sudden pain washed over my head like a mild migraine.
Rosie’s voice, her smile, the shared moments with her filled every corner of my thoughts.
But I possessed no recollection of ever meeting her, and the confusion left me reeling. I could not understand why these memories were rising at all.
I had never even heard that maid’s name… so why did I know she was Rosie…?
It felt as though I had lost my way inside a labyrinth of memories that were not my own—disoriented, directionless.
My head spun and the sense that something was terribly wrong would not leave me. The pain intensified; my whole body trembled as I struggled to grasp what was happening.
I felt overwhelmed by the sudden torrent of recollection.
It was as if a dam had burst, and long-forgotten thoughts and emotions poured out in an unstoppable flood.
My heart hammered and my mind whirled while I fought to understand everything at once.
I could not comprehend why I was remembering events that had nothing to do with me.
The memories kept surging; I felt as though I were drowning in a sea of sensations and emotions far too vast to comprehend. I tried to focus on my breathing, yet my heart pounded and cold sweat slicked my palms.
And then… the memory of losing my parents flashed past like a lantern slide, and the pain in my head became excruciating.
Surely my parents had celebrated my birthday here tonight… so why did the thought of their deaths feel so real…?
I could not understand why these memories rose, or why they felt so vivid.
Then, abruptly, recollections of a male soldier named Kite began to surface—memories of a mage, an imperial princess, a princess, an artifact, a body swap.
As the past of a Latvian soldier revived, my every action as a princess started to feel awkward and forced.
The delicate silk dress that had felt so comfortable now lay alien and uncomfortable against my skin, faintly itchy…
The corset cinching my waist felt restrictive, unnatural, stifling.
The unfamiliar cling of fine fabric to my hips and the soft embroidery of lace enveloping my body made me painfully aware of every undergarment.
My feet ached inside the high heels; every step sent discomfort up my legs.
Conversing with the men at the party filled me with deep shame and anxiety.
Their gazes and compliments, once enjoyable, now made me feel as though I were a man in drag… mortifying.
Yet… I could feel my nipples hardening beneath the silk and the space between my thighs growing steadily wetter. The collision of my past as a soldier with my present as a beautiful princess seemed to summon a lewd, confusing excitement that only tangled my emotions further.
Surrounded by the brilliant lights of the lavish banquet hall and the murmur of conversing nobles, I could not help but feel dizzy and lost.
The lewd sensation made me want to moan… yet I had to hold it back.
I felt their lustful eyes roaming the curves of my body in the luxurious gown. Feeling my nipples stiffen under those gazes made composure nearly impossible. Heat flooded my cheeks; the urge to flee somewhere—anywhere—rose sharp and sudden.
But men kept approaching, leaving no escape…
Caught in the sudden flood of memories from my days as a private, I could scarcely focus on their words.
When one of them finished speaking I answered unconsciously,
"Thank you…"
I replied to the cascade of compliments in a sweet, feminine voice that carried the radiant dignity rising from within me.
My original voice had been low and rough; this one was delicate yet elegant.
Princess Leticia’s voice was exquisitely pretty and alluring, and I—who had stolen this body—had made it completely my own.
The simple fact that I was speaking through Princess Leticia’s body already ignited excitement.
Hearing that voice set my flesh on fire and snapped my mind wide awake.
It clung to the ear with a soft, fluttering quality and an unsteady breathiness.
Delicate, lovely, meltingly soft.
When I speak in such refined tones and men stare so openly at my lips, that look is deliciously lewd… It’s almost funny that I, once a lowly private, can talk this elegantly.
Every time a gentleman approached, his gaze lingered on my full breasts, the narrow span of my waist, and the white skin bared by the off-shoulder dress.
My collarbones lay exposed and alluring; with every passing moment I felt their desire grow stronger.
Another gentleman drew near, so I gathered my skirts to greet him properly.
As I lifted the hem of the dress a thrilling shiver raced through my veins.
When the silk touched my fingertips I felt both the luxurious texture of the fabric and the heat of my own flushed skin.
The cascade of material down my calves sent a delicious chill along my spine, pleasantly reminding me of the forbidden desire I was indulging.
As the dress settled again I felt its weight; delicate lace decorations brushed my lower legs with a subtle tickle that only heightened my excitement.
Between my thighs the wetness increased; I was acutely aware of the dress clinging to sweat-slicked skin.
The stickiness, the heat, the lewd gazes of the men around me—everything conspired to make me hyper-conscious of my body in the most erotic way.
A light sheen of sweat gathered in my cleavage; I felt my nipples harden further beneath the cloth.
The admiring stares of every man in the room set my heart racing; each lingering look quickened my pulse.
Shame and desire mingled until I felt dizzy and breathless, as though I had drunk strong spirits.
My face—holding the dress hem with both hands, wearing an expression of perfect elegance—felt utterly natural, even though it had never been mine.
The atmosphere thickened with admiration and hunger.
The knowledge that it was I, not the real princess, receiving their praise sent shivers coiling through me.
My heart pounded. Alongside the thought that this entire act was wicked, I felt both shame and fierce pride in my elegance and beauty.
Then I gracefully extended my hand to the approaching Prince Frederick of the Yuras Kingdom.
When his lips brushed the back of my hand a fresh shiver ran through me.
"Happy birthday, Princess Leticia," Prince Frederick said as he took my hand. "You look truly radiant this evening."
"Thank you, Prince Frederick," I answered with an elegant smile and a light, honeyed voice. "Your kind words are most welcome."
After speaking with Prince Frederick I exchanged a few more polite conversations with other guests.
"Princess, your beauty outshines even the brightest star in the night sky," Lord William declared.
"Oh, Lord William, you flatter me far too much," I replied, lightly tossing a lock of hair over my shoulder.
I was keenly aware of how excited these men were growing, and I thought to myself:
Watching attractive men—royal blood of noble houses, war heroes who had ended the civil war, diplomats from every nation—desire me sent thrills racing along my nerves. Waves of sensation like invisible caresses washed through me.
At the very edge of decadence it felt as though I were dancing a dangerously lewd dance.
My nipples remained stiff beneath the luxurious fabric, and that constant sensation only added to the thrill…
With every step I felt the wetness between my thighs increase; my body responded helplessly to the lewd gazes and unspoken hungers surrounding me.
The delicate earrings dangling from my ears sparkled and danced with every movement, drawing every eye to the elegant curve of my neck and the sensual hollow of my collarbones.
The lace of my panties pressed against my sex—a maddening, exciting pressure.
Each step emphasized the sway of my breasts and the roll of my hips, constantly reminding me of my new identity as a beautiful woman whose every part possessed the beauty and sensuality of a goddess.
I spoke with more men. The conversations were much the same…
When they took my hand their touch was soft, yet I could feel the hidden desire beneath it.
As they bowed to kiss the back of my hand their eyes inevitably strayed to my cleavage.
And… I could feel their breath—hot with longing—brush against my skin.
That sensation sent shivers down my spine; excitement and shame flooded me together.
Looking around the room I saw that most of the men were struggling to maintain dignity and manners—
yet their lower halves betrayed them completely.
Every one of them seemed aroused; tents pitched unmistakably in their trousers.
They were clearly erect and trying desperately to hide it—adjusting jackets, crossing legs—doing their utmost to save face. Captivated by my beauty, composure was nearly impossible for them.
Ah… that man has pitched a tent in his pants…
If he knew that the Princess Leticia he’s so excited about was originally a man—a lowly-born man at that—what face would he make?
I knew exactly what they were imagining for tonight: devouring my lips and nipples, tearing my clothes, and thrusting their hips into me until dawn.
I noticed every lewd glance and every bodily reaction, yet I maintained perfect princessly poise.
My voice remained elegant and beautiful, perfectly embodying the grace, royal etiquette, and dignity the original princess had practiced since earliest childhood.
I watched them grow even more captivated by my words, their filthy thoughts only inflamed further.
Strange, tangled emotions swirled inside me.
Time continued to pass, yet I could not shake the lewd sensations that held me captive.
Still I smiled among the men surrounding me, acting with perfect elegance as a princess while remaining sharply aware of the desire burning inside each of them.
"Happy birthday, Your Highness," Duke Thomas said with a bow. "May this special day be filled with joy and laughter."
"Thank you, Duke Thomas," I answered, eyes sparkling with grateful warmth.
Whenever I greeted high-ranking officials and foreign diplomats, excitement laced with wickedness surged through me and I could do nothing to stop it.
Again and again I offered my hand with delicate grace; they kissed it with the utmost respect and awe.
As I walked I felt the luxurious waterfall of long, soft hair brushing my cheeks, ears, and the nape of my neck.
The delicate texture felt alien yet utterly captivating.
I could not resist the urge to reach up and stroke the strands with my fingers, marveling at their softness and the gentle pressure against my ears.
Realizing in every way that I had become a woman, I could not help smiling at the profound sense of transformation.
The thrill of change raced through my veins; my heart pounded with excitement and desire.
I continued to move through the ballroom. Foreign noblemen stopped in their tracks, openly admiring my beauty.
I felt the heat of their gazes and knew they were captivated by my voluptuous figure.
Their eyes lingered on my full breasts; I could not help feeling both pride and a delicious thrill at being the most stunning woman in the room.
Men exchanged startled looks and murmured words of admiration; whispers filled the air.
They traded lewd jokes in their native tongues.
"Hey, did you see the princess’s tits?" "Fuck, they’re so tempting…"
"I want to bury my cock in that cleavage…"
But I already understood countless languages… and I understood every filthy word.
Perverts…
They muttered to one another in voices thick with desire and longing.
Realizing that I was the center of so many hungers made my spine tingle.
Sensual, erotic energy filled the hall; an atmosphere heavy with desire and intrigue wrapped around me.
And… I could not help sensing the envy, jealousy, and longing in the gazes of the women watching me.
Lady Isabella of the Lancaster family was famous for her beautiful blue eyes and porcelain skin.
Yet her lips were pressed into a tight, forced smile that betrayed her resentment at being overshadowed.
Lady Amelia of the Montague family, renowned for her golden curls and delicate features, was known for captivating every man she met. Tonight, however, she found herself in the unfamiliar position of standing in my shadow.
Miss Eleanor of the York family, with her statue-like silver hair, commanded respect through her dignified bearing and captivating emerald eyes. Her tall, slender figure and elegant posture had always made her stand out—yet this evening she seemed to fade into the background beside my radiant glow.
I overheard their conversation as they whispered in voices thick with envy.
Isabella, eyes wide, muttered to Amelia while staring at me. "Compared to Princess Leticia’s dress… mine looks completely unremarkable."
Lady Amelia sighed, flicked a golden curl, and nodded in agreement. "You’re right, Isabella. I’ve never felt so ordinary. Still… the princess is my idol, so I want to approach her… but I’m afraid…
I’m scared I’ll look like a squid next to her."
Eleanor spoke in a voice edged with bitterness. "Isn’t it infuriating? Before the princess arrived we were always the envy of every society lady and the center of attention. Now we feel like nothing more than ordinary wallpaper."
The three women drew closer, speaking in low, conspiratorial tones. Lady Isabella suggested, "I think we should encourage the princess to choose a suitor as quickly as possible."
"The sooner she becomes engaged the sooner she leaves—and then the men can finally notice us again."
I felt the gazes of other women focusing on me; every time I moved their eyes followed. Their whispers and conversations were saturated with jealousy and longing.
"She’s truly beautiful," Princess Iris of Blackborn whispered to her friend while looking at me with open envy.
"She’s… so… perfect I can hardly believe it. It’s so unfair."
Princess Olivia of Amansion added in a tiny whisper, "I want to be like that even for a single day.
I want to know what it feels like to be so beautiful that everyone desires you."
Those words filled me with pride and discomfort at the same time.
Whenever I passed a cluster of women I felt their eyes upon me and heard soft, wind-like whispers brush my ears.
"In the end the one who claims the crown prince will be… the princess, won’t she?" one woman said. "Of course… even if I were a man I’d do anything to make her happy."
Princess Emily of Alicia spoke in a voice thick with envy. "I want to be that princess for even one night. I want to feel what it’s like to be loved by so many people."
Another woman whispered so softly I almost missed it: "I also… want to become like Princess Leticia… born into the richest nation on the continent with the finest looks, figure, dignity, beauty… and still being that beautiful on top of it all… it’s simply unfair."
Hearing those words filled me with a wicked sense that I was lying and deceiving everyone around me.
Yet at the same time I could not help feeling pride and deep satisfaction.
In this room filled with the most beautiful people on the continent I was the most beautiful woman of all—desired by men and women alike—and no one could take that from me.
Looking at the jealous, envious gazes of the women surrounding me, I felt strength surge through me unbidden. I knew I possessed what they wanted, what they could never have. Yet part of me also felt guilt and shame, as though I had stolen something that was never mine.
It was a complex tangle of thrills and anxiety, pride and guilt, strength and vulnerability all at once. Through every conflicting emotion, however, I could not deny the undeniable truth: I was the most beautiful woman in the world, and everyone wished they could be me.
Standing here now in the princess’s exquisite dress, I felt thrills and guilt twisting together inside me.
The lowly man who once lived an ordinary life had become the living incarnation of the goddess of beauty—the continent’s greatest beauty, who drew every eye and every word of praise simply by existing.