Careful, Your Highness
“Ah. Be careful, Your Highness.”
“Kyaaa! Sir Knight! No, I mean, me! You’re so beautiful! It’s my own body, but that voice just now almost made my heart stop!”
The real princess, now inside my original body, clasped her cheeks with both hands as if overwhelmed with emotion. It was a grotesque sight—those massive, calloused hands that could crush a man’s skull now cradling flushed cheeks. Ugh. My eyes. I want to buy new ones that never saw this.
That insane mountain of muscle was twisting her body like a delicate maiden from a romance novel, grinning like an idiot. It felt like I was hearing hallucinations of a bearded bandit giggling and cupping his own face. Standing there, drunk on the beauty of her own body, panting like a horny frog with my face—damn it, I really wanted to smash her skull in.
This is so fucking cringey. My hands and feet were curling inward so hard I felt like I might crumble into dust and vanish. The soul inside me was screaming as it tore apart.
I buried my burning face in both hands. Slender, delicate fingers. Neatly manicured, glossy nails. The soft, fragile texture felt nothing like my own. Even the palms touching my face were too smooth, and it made me feel weird. Touching my own cheeks felt strangely erotic and creepy, like some other woman was caressing them.
Here I was, speaking with my own mouth about being the kingdom’s flower, while the real princess giggled like a schoolgirl inside my hulking body.
“Hng. But was my voice always this pretty? When you say it, it sounds even more pure and delicate. Like a pitiful knight standing before a cold-hearted tyrant… Haah, I think I might actually fall for it.”
The real princess twisted my body’s thick forearms, murmuring shyly as she sank into some secret fantasy. Her prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Shoulders as broad as a barn hunched inward, eyes cast down. I wanted to gouge out those sparkling eyes that now sat on my face.
“Please… shut… the hell up. Before I bite my tongue and die.”
A vicious curse slipped from between my lips. But even that came out clear and lovely, like birdsong. The insane dissonance of sounding cute while trying to rage. I bit down hard on my lower lip. The flesh was so fragile it felt like it would bleed from the slightest pressure.
If anyone caught wind of this nauseating roleplay, my head would roll on the guillotine. A month and a half. In that time, I had to make this godawful acting feel as natural as breathing. I’d have to attend tea parties with noble daughters, laughing elegantly while enduring this horrific corset, all while pretending to be the Flower of Astria Kingdom.
My stomach twisted like a snake. I couldn’t tell if the pain came from the mercilessly tight corset or the cognitive dissonance of this fucked-up reality.
“Very good. The volume is still a little lacking, but for a start, it’s not bad.”
Margareta nodded in satisfaction. The smile on her lips looked like a demon’s grin. She clapped her hands twice, and the waiting room door opened. Two maids entered, grunting as they carried something heavy. Three thick, weighty volumes of the kingdom’s history books. And a pair of glass slippers with sharp, pointed toes and treacherously thin heels. Then the maids withdrew.
A terrible premonition crawled down my spine.
“Now then. We’ll begin practicing how to walk again.”
Margareta set those monstrous shoes down at my feet. The heel height was no joke. She wanted me to walk in those? Those weren’t shoes—they were assassination weapons. Back when I was a mercenary, I’d seen a guy in a tavern scream after getting his instep stabbed by heels like that.
“Please put them on, Your Highness.”
I had no choice. With trembling hands, I lifted the hem of my dress just enough to reveal my pale, smooth instep. I carefully slid my foot inside. My toes cramped tightly into the pointed toe box. When I forced my heel down, the arch of my foot bent like a drawn bow.
“Ugh…!”
An involuntary groan escaped me. The moment I stood, I lost my balance and staggered. The muscles in my calves pulled taut. The horrific pain of my entire body weight crushing down on my toes. No human being should have to wear these.
“Straighten your back. And do not bend your knees.”
Thwack!Margareta’s fan struck the back of my knees with vicious precision. I jerked upright in surprise, snapping my knees straight. That only pitched my upper body forward—thanks to the two heavy lumps of fat attached to my chest.
Fuck. My center of gravity was thrown so far forward that even standing still was torture.
“Pull your shoulders back, tuck in your chin. Eyes forward. Push your chest out fully.”
I did as instructed, rolling my shoulders back. The ribs squeezed inside the corset screamed in protest. There was no room to breathe. Pushing my chest forward lifted my cleavage—gathered from the depths of my very soul—right up to my chin. Below my line of sight, two enormous mounds of flesh jiggled. This was seriously fucking cumbersome.
“Your Highness, grip the hem of your skirt firmly and keep your toes slightly turned inward.”
I gently grasped the sides of the silk dress with both hands. Out of habit from my mercenary days of gripping an axe handle, I clenched hard. Margareta gasped in horror and slapped the back of my hand.
“Who holds a skirt like a sack of potatoes! Use only your thumb and index finger, as if delicately lifting a feather! Gracefully! Delicately!”
Fuck. These demands were endless. Swallowing a string of curses, I lifted my pinky slightly and pinched the hem like I was picking up something fragile. My fingers were starting to cramp.
“Sir Knight will walk three steps behind Her Highness, matching stride length.”
Margareta’s fiery glare turned toward my original body. The real princess jumped in surprise and scurried behind me. The clanking of massive armor echoed through the room.
“Sir Knight. A royal guard must silence his footsteps. Do not stomp like a rat in a moldy basement. And straighten those shoulders! Why does someone with a build like a mountain keep hunching like a timid maiden!”
At Margareta’s scolding, the real princess made a pitiful face. That rugged, bandit-like bearded mug pouting with a protruding lower lip—I wanted to gouge those eyes out right then. I never imagined my own body could look so pathetic.
“S-sorry… This body is so heavy, I can’t move it the way I want…”
My original body sniffled in a gravelly baritone. I was losing my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Now. We walk. Your Highness, I will place the books on your head.”
Margareta approached and carefully stacked the three heavy history books on top of my head. The crushing weight pressed down on my neck bones. It felt like my neck would snap. This frail body could barely handle the weight of three books.
“Begin.”
I held my breath and stepped forward with my right foot. Following mercenary instinct, I took a wide stride and straightened my spine.
Crash!
The books tumbled off my head the instant I took one step. The long dress skirt tangled around my ankles, nearly sending me face-first onto the floor.
“Stop!”
Margareta’s sharp voice pierced my eardrums. She strode over and stopped right in front of me.
“Your Highness. Are you an orc warrior marching onto a battlefield? What kind of walk is that!”
I bit my lip, feeling unfairly scolded. Are you fucking kidding me? The heels are sharp as needles and the skirt keeps wrapping around my ankles—how the hell am I supposed to walk?
“Your stride is far too wide! When you step, bring the heel of your back foot right up to the toe of the front foot and walk in a straight line. Sway your hips gently, like flowing waves! Again!”
Margareta quickly retrieved the books and stacked them on my head once more. I bit my lip until it nearly bled. This is bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit.
I steadied my breathing. Straight line. Smaller steps. I lifted my foot again. Walking in a narrow, straight line made my hips naturally sway side to side. The soft flesh of my inner thighs kept brushing together, raising goosebumps. With every step, the heavy breasts pushed up by the corset bounced up and down. I couldn’t control the recoil. Every jiggle sent a dull ache through my solar plexus.
The sensation of bare breasts—unsupported by anything but a scrap of cloth—shaking was obscenely disgusting. Fuck. So that’s why women grab their chests when they run. I finally understood.
“Eyes forward! Do not look at the floor! The books are falling!”
The books on my head wobbled. I hurriedly lifted my chin and tensed my neck. My calves felt like they would burst. My toe bones felt like they were shattering. I walked and walked around the room. Ten times. Twenty. A hundred.
“Again! Your stride widened!”
“Again! Keep your back straight!”
“Again! Control your breathing so your chest doesn’t bounce!”
This was torture. I’d rather break rocks in a quarry while being whipped. Cold sweat poured down my back like rain. The inside of the silk dress grew damp with perspiration. The feeling of sweat trickling down my cleavage and pooling near my navel was vividly nauseating.
From behind came the constant thud, thump of heavy footsteps. The real princess inside my body was trying to silence her steps by walking on tiptoe in an awkward crouch. Imagining that giant suit of armor prancing around made me want to vomit.
“You will not leave this room until nightfall.”
Margareta’s verdict sank into my brain. It was still only morning. Sunset was a long way off. My breathing grew ragged. The corset mercilessly crushed my ribcage, starving my brain of oxygen. The edges of my vision began to flicker black. A high-pitched ringing filled my head.
Ah… I’ve reached my limit.
This wasn’t the sturdy stamina of a mercenary. This delicate beauty’s body had terrible strength and endurance. It was a decorative vessel shaped solely to look pretty. After only about a hundred steps, my legs began to shake. The room spun. Whether from lack of oxygen or sheer despair, strength drained from my legs. The sharp heel of the glass slipper caught on the carpet and twisted.
“Ahk!”
A pathetic moan slipped from my lips. My ankle gave way and my body tilted into the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the pain of my face slamming into the floor.
But the impact never came.
The real princess, inside my original body, swiftly caught my swaying waist.
“Ah. Be careful, Your Highness.”
Thick arms from my own body wrapped firmly around my slender wasp waist. The man’s burning body heat and overwhelming strength surged through the dress. The grip was so powerful it felt like it would stop my breath. One hand easily encircled my waist while the other supported my delicate shoulder. The books that had been falling bounced off my original body’s broad back.
Fuck. This disgusting situation of me being held in my own arms and feeling my heart flutter. My original face was right in front of me. Thick beard, rough scars. The smell of a sweat-drenched man. The heavy scent of leather and metal stung my nose. It was the familiar smell that had always come from me.
But this frail nose was perceiving that scent in an entirely different way. The moment my soft shoulder touched that solid male chest, those damned female hormones went wild again.
“Are you alright? Did you get hurt anywhere…?”
The beast-like man’s worried gaze looked down at me. That low, deep voice vibrated against my ear, sending a tingling jolt through my lower belly. My face burned like it would explode, and my breathing turned ragged. Against my will, my heart began to pound wildly—thump, thud.
Argh!!! I wanted to scream for them to just send me to the guillotine already.