"Well?" Aria raised an eyebrow, hands planted on her hips. "Since you can speak, perhaps you'd like to explain why you're so afraid of the guards?"
"I..." He paused, carefully considering his words. The memories of his death were clear enough – the theater, the betrayal, the gunshot. But he couldn't share those. Not here. Not when he barely understood what was happening himself. "I can't remember anything. Everything before waking up in those ropes is just... fog."
Her stern expression melted into concern. "Nothing at all?"
He shook his head, which wasn't entirely a lie. After all, he had no memories of this body's past, only memories of a life that seemed increasingly distant, like a half-remembered dream.
"Well," Aria sighed, moving to her kitchen. "That complicates things. Tea?"
"Please." He watched as she busied herself with a kettle, trying to make sense of his situation. He knew he had died, yet here he was, in a body that clearly wasn't his original one. The strange clothes he'd been found in weren't his Armani suit – they were something else entirely, belonging to whoever this body had been before... before what? Before he arrived?
Aria set two steaming cups on the table, the liquid inside shimmering with specks of gold. "We can't keep calling you 'mysterious stranger.' You need a name, at least until your memory returns." She studied him intently. "How about Ash? Simple, easy to remember."
"Ash," he repeated, testing the name. It felt right somehow – clean and simple, like a fresh start. "I like it."
"Wonderful!" She beamed, then tilted her head curiously. "Though I must say, you're quite the unusual case."
"How so?" He took a cautious sip of the tea – it tasted like sunlight felt.
"Well..." Aria gestured vaguely at his chest. "Most elves your age – and you can't be more than a century old – have developed quite nicely. Full, rounded breasts, you know? But you're completely flat! Not even small ones! I noticed while helping you out of those odd clothes you were wearing."
Ash choked on his tea. "I'm supposed to have what?"
"Breasts, of course!" She said it as casually as discussing the weather. "All elves develop them. It's just how our bodies work. Though..." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Given your memory loss, I suppose this might be surprising news."
"You could say that," he managed, mind reeling. 'Add that to the growing list of impossible things I need to process.'
Curiosity got the better of him. "What exactly do you do here? I noticed you were collecting water when you found me."
Aria's eyes lit up. "Oh! I'm an enchantment botanist. Those plants you see?" She gestured to several glowing flowers arranged throughout the room. "They need water straight from natural sources or their magic dies. The mixing of elemental energies is quite delicate."
"Magic?" His ears perked up involuntarily, betraying his surprise.
"Of course! Speaking of which..." She frowned slightly. "We'll have to work together to rediscover yours, you know, since you can't remember. All elves have it, and untrained magic can be... problematic." She glanced up at a scorch mark on her ceiling. "That was from my first attempt at fire manipulation. Took weeks to fix the roof."
"My magic?" Ash felt slightly faint.
"Mhmm!" She stood, moving to a shelf lined with glass jars. Each contained something that seemed to glow, flutter, or sparkle. "Here, let me show you what I'm working on. These are night-blooming moondrops." She held up a flower that seemed to be made of liquid starlight. "Essential for dream-walking potions. The petals have to be harvested at exactly midnight under a full moon, then preserved in dew collected from spider webs. Tricky work, but the pay is excellent."
Ash watched the flower pulse with gentle light, his head spinning with questions he didn't dare ask. Here he was, in a strange world, in a body that apparently should be developing in ways he'd never imagined, with magic he didn't understand – and somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered about karma and second chances.
"Oh!" Aria's exclamation pulled him from his thoughts. "We need to get you proper clothes. That nightgown is the only clean thing I had that would fit you, but we can't have you running around in that forever. Though it does look lovely on you – pink really brings out the silver in your hair."
He tugged at the lacy hem, fighting a blush. "Anything would be an improvement."
"Those clothes you were wearing..." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I've never seen fabric quite like that before. Almost like it was woven with technologies from another realm..."
Ash tensed, but Aria just laughed. "Listen to me, sounding like those romance novels I keep under my bed! Next thing you know, I'll be suggesting you're some hero from another world, sent here by destiny!"
'If you only knew,' he thought, watching her arrange her glowing flowers in a crystal vase. 'If you only knew.'
"Right then," Aria stood, smoothing her skirt. "I should get you some proper clothes. Can't have you wandering around in my nightgown forever, as fetching as it looks on you." She grinned at his obvious discomfort. "I'll pop into town – shouldn't take more than a few hours. Make yourself at home!"
Ash blinked. "You're... leaving me here? Alone?"
"Well, yes?" She looked genuinely puzzled by his concern. "Unless you'd prefer to come along wearing that?" She gestured at the pink silk nightgown.
"No, no, this is fine," he said quickly. "I just... you're very trusting."
Aria's tinkling laugh filled the room. "What's the worst you could do? Rearrange my flower specimens? Besides," her eyes twinkled mischievously, "I have wards around the house. Try to steal anything, and you might find yourself turned into something rather uncomfortable."
With that cheerful threat, she grabbed a woven basket and practically danced out the door, leaving Ash alone with his thoughts and a house full of glowing plants.
'This is insane,' he thought, watching her disappear down the path. 'A beautiful elf just left a complete stranger alone in her house. Then again...' He touched his pointed ears. 'I suppose I'm an elf too now.'
Once he was sure Aria was gone, Ash began exploring the cottage properly.
'All elves have breasts,' he mused, climbing the stairs. 'All elves have magic. All elves live for centuries.' He paused at the top. 'And here I am, apparently a century-old flat-chested elf who can't remember a thing about this world.'
The upper floor held three bedrooms – the one he'd slept in, what was clearly Aria's room (he respected her privacy and didn't enter), and what appeared to be a storage room full of dried plants hanging from the ceiling.
Everything looked almost... normal. Sure, there were plants that glowed and potions that sparkled, but the furniture was just furniture. The kitchen had normal pots and pans, though he noticed the stove seemed to run on some kind of magical flame.
Exhaustion crept up on him suddenly – whether from the stress of his situation or some lingering effect of whatever had brought him here, he couldn't tell. He made his way back to 'his' room, the silk nightgown swishing around his legs.
'A hundred years old,' he thought as he lay down. 'Magic. Breasts. Everything's so...' He didn't finish the thought as sleep claimed him.
"Ash? Ash, wake up! I've brought you clothes!"
He blinked awake to find Aria standing over him, arms full of fabric in various shades of green and brown. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she bounced slightly on her toes causing her breasts to jiggle from the corset.
"Come on, up you get! Let's see what fits. And wait until you hear the gossip from town – apparently, someone's enchanted garden gnome came to life and proposed marriage to their neighbor's cat! Can you imagine?"
Ash sat up groggily, wondering if everything – the dying, the reincarnation, the ears, the whole breast situation – had been a dream. But no, there was Aria with her impossible beauty and pointed ears, chattering about magical garden ornaments as she laid out clothing on the bed.
Reality, it seemed, had taken a decidedly peculiar turn. And something told him it was only going to get stranger from here.
"These should fit," Aria said, holding up a simple tunic in forest green. "Though I had to guess at the measurements."
Ash fingered the soft fabric, then grimaced slightly. "Would it be possible to bathe first? I feel rather... sticky from yesterday's ordeal."
"Oh!" Aria's ears drooped slightly. "I should apologize – I changed your clothes but didn't properly clean you. I was so focused on treating your wounds." She brightened. "Of course you can bathe! Would you prefer to bathe alone or in commune?"
Ash froze. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Alone or in commune?" She repeated, as if asking about his preference for tea. "Where I grew up, most elves bathed together. It's quite normal. Saves water, and it's a wonderful time for conversation."
"Bathed together," Ash said slowly. "As in... together-together?"
"Yes?" Aria looked genuinely puzzled by his reaction. "Is something wrong?"
"There's a stream out back," Aria explained, her voice lilting with innocent delight. "Crystal clear, always cool. Perfect for a bath. I'll show you."
Ash's mouth went dry, but he managed to nod. It wasn't as if he could refuseâ€"how could he, when he barely understood the customs of this world? Still, the thought of bathing together... His mind raced, conjuring images he quickly pushed away.
Aria grabbed a small woven basket from the counter and motioned for him to follow. The cottage's back door led to a path winding through thick trees. The air was heavy with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth, the faint sound of rushing water growing louder with each step.
"This way," she called over her shoulder, glancing back with a radiant smile.
Ash followed, his eyes lingering a moment too long on the gentle sway of her hips beneath the flowing skirt she wore. 'Stop staring,' he scolded himself, though the internal admonishment did little to quell his growing uneaseâ€"or the heat creeping up his neck.
They reached the stream, a wide ribbon of shimmering water cutting through the forest. The banks were dotted with smooth stones, moss, and tiny purple blossoms. The scene was picturesque, almost surreal in its beauty.
Aria set the basket down and turned to him with a grin. "Well, here we are. It's refreshing, I promise."
Before he could respond, she reached behind her back, fingers working the ties of her corset.
Ash froze. "Wait, you're not~"
"Not what?" she asked, genuinely puzzled as the garment came loose, sliding down her torso to reveal soft, pale skin beneath.
His voice caught in his throat as her corset hit the ground. She made quick work of the thin blouse beneath, leaving her bare from the waist up. Her breasts, full and perfectly shaped, caught the dappled sunlight, the soft curve of her body utterly mesmerizing. Round red dotted areolas surrounding a pink nipple that stood firm on her round, firm and beautiful breasts.
Ash's heart hammered in his chest. He turned his gaze away sharply, swallowing hard. "Aria, I don't think-"
She laughed, light and musical. "Oh, Ash, you're so shy! It's adorable. Bathing is natural. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."
The sound of fabric brushing against skin drew his gaze back against his will. Her hands were at her hips now, loosening the ties of her gossamer skirt. It slid down with a whisper, pooling at her feet and leaving her completely bare with the slit between her legs visibly there.
She stood there, unabashed, the curves of her body on full display as she stepped gracefully toward the stream. The sunlight glinted off her skin, the water lapping gently at her ankles as she waded in.
Ash stared, unable to look away despite every instinct screaming at him to do so.
"Are you coming?" she asked over her shoulder, water reaching her thighs now. Her tone was as casual as if she were inviting him to tea.
"I..." He couldn't form a coherent sentence, his thoughts an incoherent mess.
Her laughter echoed again, teasing and warm. "Suit yourself, but you'll have to bathe at some point, you know."
Ash exhaled shakily, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. This world, he realized, was going to be the death of him in more ways than one.