As far as I remembered I felt the world tilted, spinning wildly as I fell, my scream lost in the deafening rush of wind. But instead of the bone-crushing impact I expected, there was—nothing.
No pain.
No crash.
Only silence.
And then—
I landed.
Not on cold asphalt, not on cracked riverbed dirt, but on soft, damp grass.
A breeze brushed against my skin, carrying the scent of something unfamiliar—earthy, floral, laced with a kind of richness that didn't belong to my time.
Slowly, I pushed myself up, blinking against the sudden brightness. The dull gray of an abandoned riverbed was gone. Instead, before me stretched a wide, glistening river—a real one, full of rushing water reflecting the golden hues of the rising sun.
My breath hitched.
This was the Red River. But not the one from my time.
I scrambled to my feet, my heart hammering. The bridge—the one I had been standing on—was nowhere in sight. Instead, a cobblestone path wound down toward the water, flanked by lantern-lit posts. Beyond that, the town stretched, alive and bustling, with people moving about in elegant gowns and fine-tailored coats. Horse-drawn carriages clattered over stone streets. The scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the faint aroma of burning wood from chimneys.
I knew this place.
Or at least, I had seen it in history books.
But it wasn't a picture anymore. It was real.
I took a step back, panic clawing at my chest. "No, no, no," I whispered. "This isn't possible."
My head spun as I looked down at myself. My ripped jeans and hoodie were gone. Instead, layers of fabric weighed me down—a deep blue gown with intricate lace sleeves, fitted at the waist, falling in elegant folds to the ground. My hands, once holding my phone just minutes ago, were now gloved in silk.
What the hell was happening to me?
I turned sharply at the sound of voices. A group of women in pastel gowns walked past me, giggling behind delicate fans, their skirts swishing against the ground. A man in a dark overcoat tipped his hat at them, his expression polite but distant.
And that was when I heard it.
"Lady María Georgiana, are you well?"
I froze.
The voice was unfamiliar, but the name—my name—made my blood run cold.
I turned slowly, and my breath caught at the sight of the man standing before me. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a finely tailored suit. His dark hair was neatly combed, and his piercing hazel eyes were sharp with concern.
He looked like he belonged here. Like he had stepped straight out of history.
Like I had, too.
"Lady María?" he asked again, taking a cautious step forward.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing.
Lady María Georgiana.
That was me.
But it wasn't.
Was it?
"I—I'm fine," I managed, my voice trembling.
He studied me for a moment, then exhaled in relief. "You startled me. When you disappeared from the estate this morning, I feared the worst."
Estate?
I had an estate?
I forced myself to nod, even though my entire body was screaming for answers. "I just... needed some air."
He gave me a small, knowing smile. "Of course. But we should return before your father grows worried."
My father? My actual father?
No, no, he was talking about someone else. Someone from this time.
I swallowed the urge to scream.
Whoever this man was, I needed to play along until I figured things out.
"Right," I said, forcing a smile. "Shall we?"
He extended an arm, and I hesitated before taking it, my gloved hand resting lightly on his.
As he led me through the streets, I caught my reflection in a shop window.
The face staring back at me was mine. But different.
The hair, the eyes, the face—they were the same. But the way I carried myself, the way my features settled into an expression of quiet elegance, the way my body seemed to move with an unfamiliar grace—this wasn't me.
This was María Georgiana Salviari.
And somehow, I had become her.
I barely spoke to the man—who I quickly learned was named Elianus Rilaeus Montero—what an ancient name, he said he's like a bodyguard or something like that, and led me through the town, up a winding stone path to what could only be described as a mansion.
The Salviari estate was enormous, towering with white stone columns and sprawling balconies overlooking a perfectly maintained garden. It was the kind of place I had only ever seen in movies or historical documentaries.
This was my home. I guess? Apparently.
Servants bustled around as we entered, bowing slightly as I passed. I had no idea how to respond, so I just nodded awkwardly, trying to act like I belonged.
Before I could process anything else, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"María Georgiana!"
I barely had time to react before a girl in an extravagant lavender gown rushed toward me. Her golden-brown hair was pulled into intricate braids, and her piercing blue eyes burned with intensity.
"Lady Claire" Elianus bow his head, greeting Claire with such respect. Claire bowed back and went straight to me.
"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Father has been furious!"
I stared at her. I didn't know what to say.
Then, as if sensing my hesitation, her expression softened. "Are you alright?"
I took a slow breath. "I... just needed to get some air."
The words felt like a lie, but she seemed to accept them.
With a sigh, she grabbed my hand, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You shouldn't disappear like that. You know how Father is."
I nodded stiffly, though I had no idea who "Father" was or why he was apparently terrifying.
"Come," she said, tugging me toward the grand staircase. "There's much to do before the gala tonight."
Gala?
I wanted to scream. I needed answers.
But for now, all I could do was play the part of María Georgiana Salviari and hope I survived long enough to understand why I was here.
And, more importantly—
How I could get back!
I need a phone and wifi!