I leaned against the cool, smooth exterior wall of Riker’s Congress Center, the distant hum of the city a constant thrum beneath the quiet of the late night.

  The Sword Queen's performance felt like a lifetime ago. The adrenaline faded, leaving only a bone-deep weariness and the lingering scent of stage makeup and… well, whatever Riker used for his fake frost.

  Closing my eyes for a moment, I let the whirlwind of the past weeks, or was it just days, crawl into my mind?

  Time felt warped, wash over me. From that QA lab and a pink slip to… this. A time shift I barely understood, courtesy of a twelve-year-old simulation kid. It wasn’t some grand plot, but a bet. On me?

  Damn, how do I know who to trust? What is reality? This, Rimelion? Or both?

  A botched identity swap that landed me in Rimelion, not as John the exploiter, but as Princess Charlie the Priest. Then the almost unbelievable synchronization in the real world, courtesy of Jerry the AI mouse-fan, saddling me with a female body I was still navigating and a debt that could choke a dragon.

  Hero of Ice Blood. Baronetess. Princess.

  The titles felt ill-fitting draped over someone just trying to figure out how to walk in heels, let alone save a world, or maybe just survive its simulation.

  I now wielded [Frost Weaving], a power gifted by an ancient Sovereign, housed a grumpy, centuries-old prince in a legendary ring on my finger, and carried the weight of Irwen’s impending war and the Duke’s manipulative plans.

  And the people…

  My chest tightened. Lucas, my oldest friend, haunted by the ghost of the real Charlie, his actions driven by a grief that recklessly reshaped my entire existence.

  Ian, simmering with a resentment I never saw, now actively working against me for a queen I was destined to fight. I still held hope he’ll see the value of our friendship. But that would need a nudge.

  Adam, my brother, finally seeing his sister, Charlie, offering an anchor of acceptance I hadn’t realized I desperately needed.

  And then there were Katherine and Lisa, potential allies, sparks of genuine connection in the chaos, complicated by their own lives and Dmitry’s looming shadow.

  It was a lot. Too much, maybe. Debts loomed, both financial and emotional. Betrayals stung. The very nature of my reality felt thin, questionable, a game layered over simulations run by jailers or gods or maybe just bored programmers.

  I pushed away from the wall before stepping fully back into the night. The Rime-con stage felt distant now, the cheers faded. What remained was the core goal: get stronger, get answers, get that treasury loot, and somehow, navigate the storm coming with Irwen.

  From the simulation I left, I knew powerful people who could help me. Somehow I’ll have to gather them.

  Tramar I met recently could help me. I had a vague memory of him throwing fire spells in fire mage fashion, but he wasn’t that strong. TechiLlama? He was the best tank in Rimelion, hands down. But he fell in love with a bad girl and got arrested… It was a high-profile case, no idea of how could I prevent that.

  Scamantha, the best scammer or alchemist-rogue. She could be swayed. NightSwallow, the best explorer and hands down top tier rogue.

  Luminaria. It would be awesome if I could get her. Even to help her. But she was already popular and led her awesome guild. A maybe then. Same with Fty, his healing saved a lot of guild battles.

  Nah Charlie, forget all about that. These people are not the agenda now. Later. Later.

  The low rumble of an engine pulled me from my thoughts. Headlights cut through the night, familiar and ridiculously loud.

  Roberto.

  Right! One step at a time. First, a ride home. Then, Rimelion.

  The car smelled good again, the engine’s low rumble vibrating through the floor. I glanced at the mirror, noting how surprisingly flawless my makeup looked despite everything.

  Mia must’ve used some next-level sci-fi cosmetics—because even after crying like a waterfall, it’s holding up.

  “Woah, signorina! You look fantastica!” Roberto exclaimed, his grin as wide as ever. “Just like on stage, eh?” He punctuated his words by revving the engine with a roar, clearly delighted to be driving me around again.

  “Ah, you saw that?” My voice came out quieter than I intended, still tinged with lingering sadness.

  “Of course! Mio cugino made sure I didn’t miss it!” he said with a hearty laugh, looking as cheerful as ever, a stark contrast to the storm inside me.

  “Sorry, Roberto… but I’m…” I hesitated, staring out of the window as the world blurred by neon signs reflecting off the glass like ghostly afterimages. “Two people I thought were my friends stabbed a dagger in my back. One I could get, but the other…” My voice faltered, barely above a whisper now. “He hates me, and I don’t even know why…”

  My throat tightened, and despite my best efforts, tears pricked at my eyes again. I blinked rapidly, trying to push them back, but they slipped through anyway, hot and unwelcome.

  Roberto’s grin faded slightly as he glanced at me, concern flickering in his eyes. He said nothing for a moment, just letting the engine’s steady hum fill the silence.

  Then, in a gentler tone, he said, “Signorina, life… it can be like a rough road, full of potholes and sharp turns. But you? You’re a racer. You keep going, even when it feels like you’ll crash.”

  I let out a shaky breath, managing a weak smile despite myself.

  A racer, huh? More like a wreck waiting to happen.

  “Today was… supposed to be fun,” I muttered, leaning back in the seat as the city lights streaked past in colorful blurs. “I even enjoyed it. Pushed my feelings about Lucas out of my mind…”

  “The boyfriend from the tower?” Roberto cut in, eyebrows raised, his grin already forming.

  “He’s not—” I shot back quickly, my voice agitated. “Despite him thinking so. He… loves me, but not me, me? Ugh, damn, that’s complicated…” I rubbed my temple, as if trying to physically smooth out the tangled mess of emotions. “He used to be my dear friend long ago, and I forgot…” I trailed off, shaking my head to dispel the thought. “Sorry, you’re not Jerry. That’s apparently my therapist AI.”

  Roberto let out a booming laugh, his hands tightening briefly on the steering wheel as he navigated a sharp turn with ease. “Signorina, the things I hear! A boyfriend who’s not a boyfriend, a therapist AI, and friends stabbing you in the back, it’s like I’m driving a character from a drama series!”

  Despite myself, I couldn’t help but let out a small, tired laugh. “Yeah, well, drama queen fits the Sword Queen, doesn’t it?”

  As always, Roberto was quick, too quick, honestly. We were already slowing down before he even responded. “Hey, signorina, Roberto’s here, always ready to drive. And talk,” he added with a grin, turning off the engine with a smooth flick of his wrist. “Gratis, no worries. Free of charge.”

  “I have to catch a prince waiting,” I said, flashing him a genuine smile for the first time today. “Don’t ask—long story.” I sent him the payment anyway, with a nice, fat tip. “Thanks for the offer, Roberto. But seriously, take this.”

  He glanced at the transfer notification and gave me an exaggerated shrug. “No worries! Ci vediamo la prossima volta!” he called out with a cheerful wave before speeding away, the engine roaring like it was thrilled to be free.

  I stared after the receding car, puzzled. “Uhm… see you later?”

  Jerry’s voice chimed in with his usual precision. “It means ‘see you next time’ in Italian, according to a translation database.”

  “I didn’t need… okay, thanks anyway, therapist,” I muttered, already walking toward home. The cool evening air nipped at my arms, the distant hum of traffic blending with the occasional chirp of night insects.

  “Were you serious when you—” Jerry started, sounding oddly excited for an AI.

  “No.” I cut him off before he could get any ideas. “At least not now. That was… a mess, Jerry.” I sighed, the weight of the day settling back onto my shoulders.

  “You need time to process everything that happened. I suggest you take it easy for the next few days,” Jerry said, his tone unusually concerned as I stepped into my apartment.

  “Yes and no, Jerry.” I kicked off my amazing heels, the soft thud echoing in the quiet space. “I won’t push myself too hard, but the battle with Irwen means a lot to me; I need to win.” I glanced around. “Where should I put you?”

  “You can place me on the strip next to the capsule’s console,” Jerry replied, sounding a little too excited. “Thank you for doing this for me. I’ve learned so many new things today and… well, I felt alive.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Sure, anytime, my dear friend,” I said with a faint grin, carefully placing him where he’d asked. His words lingered with me for a second longer than I liked. Jerry, an AI, talking about feeling alive?

  Maybe he’s still human?

  Strange times. “And I wasn’t joking—I still have a few places to visit today. Let’s just hope the Duchess doesn’t blow a fuse when I… borrow that thing.”

  I peeled off my cosplay; the fabric clinging stubbornly from all the movement earlier. The cool air of my apartment brushed against my skin, a welcome contrast after the heat of the day. Without wasting another second, I stepped into the capsule. The familiar hum surrounded me as the lid sealed shut.

  Time to get to work.

  I popped back into Rimelion, exactly where I had logged off. I took a slow breath, taking it all in, the more vivid, tangible world of Rimelion. My world. My reality. I smiled, the tension of earlier fading just a little.

  “Pretender! You are late!”

  “Hi to you too, stupid prince,” I muttered under my breath, glancing around. The area was tranquil, with nature untouched… Yet.

  I’ll make you a proper imperial land!

  “Hm, you sound sad. Why?” my ring chimed in with its annoyingly regal tone. Great. First Jerry, now this prince. Am I assembling a collection of talking accessories with a knack for psychoanalyzing me? I couldn’t help but giggle at the absurd thought.

  “What’s so funny?” The prince said, clearly confused by my reaction.

  “Well…” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “One friend betrayed me. Two, actually.” I paused, the weight of what Ian did trying to overwhelm me before I pushed it aside. “But Lucas? I can forgive him. He did it out of love, misguided as it was. The second one…” I shook my head, forcing the thought away. “Not worth discussing. He doesn’t deserve the airtime.”

  Switching topics, I raised an eyebrow at my enchanted ring. “By the way, did you have dimensional storage?”

  “Of course I did! I was a proper dimensional mage,” the prince declared haughtily. “Don’t get your hopes up, though. It’s empty, pretender. You can’t steal more.”

  “Oh.” A sly smile crept across my face. “I think I will steal more. Don’t worry, I just need to figure out the layout properly. We should have at least five minutes to loot.”

  There was a brief silence as I mentally reconstructed what I could remember of the imperial treasury’s layout. The vault was no joke. Still, I could work fast when needed.

  “Thief. Pretender.” The ring’s voice was dripping with disdain. “I really should’ve annoyed the sovereign more before ending up on your finger.”

  “You really should’ve,” I quipped, my grin widening as I pictured the Emperor's face when they’d realize I’d raided their vaults.

  Okay, I think I got this.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, focusing intently on the storage area of the imperial treasury. With that, I could almost feel the ancient enchantments woven into the space, crackling faintly like static. “I just hope you work over their wards.”

  “As much as I don’t approve of your shameless thievery,” the prince drawled, sounding as offended as ever, “I must clarify. My magic was legendary, sometimes even more. No ward ever prevented me from entering. Stealth, however… that’s another question entirely.”

  “Great. Love the confidence.” Before he could launch into another self-righteous monologue, I activated the spell.

  In an instant, the world blurred around me, dissolving into shimmering motes of light.

  When it reformed, I was standing in a dimly lit underground vault. The air was cool and smelled faintly of old stone and polished wood. Rows of shelves stretched into the shadows, each lined with bags in large quantities, some plain, others embroidered with intricate golden patterns. A faint hum of magic lingered in the air, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.

  I sprinted toward one of the shelves, eyes locked on a particularly ornate bag with gilded clasps and shimmering blue fabric. The craftsmanship was unmistakable, imperial custom property.

  Jackpot.

  Grinning, I snatched it up and hugged it to my chest. “This… This is an imperial custom property.” I could barely contain my excitement, my voice almost giddy. “I always wanted to—”

  BANG!

  A loud, echoing crash reverberated through the vault, cutting me off mid-sentence. My heart leapt into my throat as the sound bounced off the stone walls, amplifying its ominous tone.

  “Oh,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the bag. “I guess our five minutes starts now.”

  The prince didn’t respond, but I could practically feel his smug silence. No doubt he was thinking something like I told you so, pretender.

  Whatever.

  I had a bag full of imperial goodies, and I wasn’t done with my looting. I yanked open another bag with the excitement of a child on their birthday, only to stare at its contents in complete disbelief.

  Cobblestones. Actual cobblestones.

  “What the—why would anyone need enchanted cobblestones in a treasury?!” I hissed, tossing them aside with a flick of my wrist. I reached into another bag, my fingers closing around something small and hard.

  Seeds.

  Just… seeds.

  I threw my head back and let out an exasperated groan. “Oh, fantastic. Cobblestones, seeds… vital stuff. Just not vital to me.” Frustration gnawed at my nerves as I rummaged deeper. More mundane junk followed: lengths of rope, preserved herbs, some gleaming metal tools, great for running an empire, terrible for a thief.

  “Come on, come on, something useful!” My voice echoed off the stone walls.

  After a minute of frantic searching, I randomly turned another bag upside down in sheer desperation.

  Clink. Clinkclinkclink.

  Gold coins. Glorious, shimmering, imperial-minted gold coins spilled out, raining down onto the stone floor like an overdue jackpot.

  “YAS!” I almost shouted, my grin wide.

  One of the debts covered.

  I quickly stuffed the coins back into the bag, stripped its strap down to fit snugly on my belt, and resumed the hunt.

  “I can’t believe you were serious,” the prince’s voice rang in my head, spiked with something dangerously close to actual offense. “Using a legendary artifact for… simple robbery.”

  I tossed aside another bag of mundane supplies—more cobblestones, seriously?!—and dove for the next one. My fingers wrapped around its fine leather straps, and when I opened it, golden rods gleamed back at me, stacked neatly like a dragon’s hoard.

  “AAAH!” I squealed in triumph, unable to contain myself. “Now my win is in the books! Mother can try all she wants, but I’ll fight her, and I WILL WIN!” The rush of success surged through me like pure adrenaline. Slinging the heavy bag onto my belt, I grinned and added, “By the way, don’t you know the difference between robbery and theft, you ugly ring?”

  “Who are you calling ugly?!” the prince’s voice snapped, now fully offended. Perfect. Just where I wanted him, flustered and annoyed.

  Good. Keeps him busy.

  Not trying to warn enemies.

  I darted forward, ignoring his grumbling, and entered the next chamber. My breath caught in my throat for a moment.

  I’m here again.

  Illuminated by soft, enchanted light, the space was lined with pristine pedestals, each one supporting an artifact that screamed rare and dangerous

  Each pedestal had a unique design, reflecting the artifact it displayed. One had a glowing crystalline orb, radiating a faint blue aura that sent chills down my spine just by looking at it. Another held an elegant silver staff with a headpiece shaped like a crescent moon, pulsating with a rhythmic hum, probably a high-level staff.

  Beside it, an ancient tome lay open, its pages turning lazily on their own as if inviting me to learn the forbidden imperial spells.

  No way; too hard.

  “Jackpot,” I muttered under my breath, heart racing. I could almost feel the power radiating from each artifact, tangible and thick in the air, like standing too close to an electric storm.

  “Pretender, don’t even think about it,” the prince warned, sensing my intentions. “These artifacts are—”

  “Perfect for me!” I interrupted cheerfully, already eyeing the nearest pedestal. “They’ll look fabulous in my growing collection.” My gaze settled on a pair of enchanted daggers, quickly reaching for them.

  A sudden crack of thunder echoed through the chamber, and before I could react, a bolt of lightning arced out from the pedestal and struck me square in the chest.

  [Lightning struck you for 40 damage.]

  Dazzling pain shot through every nerve in my body, like fire and ice colliding in a violent storm under my skin. My muscles spasmed involuntarily, and I staggered back, gasping as my heart pounded wildly in my ears.

  “Great,” I muttered through clenched teeth, clutching my chest as a tingling numbness lingered in my arms. Quickly casting a healing spell, I felt the soothing warmth spread through my body, dulling the pain. One cast wasn’t enough, I had to cast it again before the burning sensation faded completely and HP recovered.

  Satisfied that I wasn’t about to keel over, I glared at the offending artifact. “Seriously? That thing just zapped me for looking at it?”

  The prince’s voice came through, dripping with a mix of disdain and amusement. “Pretender, you are lucky to be alive. That was a defensive ward. Touch another without caution, and it may be your last theft.”

  “I know…” I grumbled, rubbing the spot where the lightning had hit, the ache still lingering beneath my clothes.

  I turned my attention toward a nearby staff, its crescent-shaped head gleaming ominously under the enchanted lights. Sparks of residual energy crackled faintly around it, daring me to come closer.

  “This is not fair,” I complained out loud, pouting as I eyed the room full of treasures I couldn’t just grab without getting zapped into oblivion.

  At the same time, I caught the faint sound of shouting echoing through the underground chamber. My ears perked up, the noise growing louder as it bounced off the stone walls, harsh voices barking orders. Footsteps, many of them, rushed closer, the clattering echo amplified by the narrow stone corridors. The distinct metallic clink of armored guards’ boots made my stomach twist.

  “Uh-oh,” I muttered, casting a quick glance back toward the entrance.

  “They’re entering the treasury.” The prince’s voice sounded smug enough to make me want to punch a ring. “It appears your five minutes have expired. Congratulations, pretender, you’ve earned yourself a personal escort to the imperial dungeons.”

  I forced myself to stay calm despite the growing dread. “Come on, prince, you know I can just teleport away,” I said, feigning nonchalance.

  “You can. A day after the last use. Are you sure it has been a full day since your encounter with the sovereign?” His tone oozed with smug superiority, like a cat that had just cornered a mouse. I could practically feel the smirk radiating off the damn ring.

  “Ah…” That was all I could manage as cold realization set in. I clenched my jaw and tried to activate the teleportation spell anyway.

  Nothing.

  Not even a flicker of mana responded.

  “Plan F!” I shouted, panic now fully replacing my earlier calm fa?ade. Without wasting another second, I sprinted toward the section I had mentally labeled the clothing area.

  There, draped over a pedestal, was a long black cloak embroidered with faint silver patterns, a piece clearly designed for imperial nobility. It shimmered slightly under the dim light, looking far too expensive to be worn by a common thief.

  Good thing I’m not a common thief, right?

  I snatched the cloak and threw it on, fastening it hurriedly around my neck. Its fabric was surprisingly light but had a luxurious feel, like something spun from enchanted silk. I pulled the hood low over my face, casting shadows over my features.

  “They can’t see me as the Charlie!” I hissed, adjusting the cloak to hide my distinctive armor.

  The prince, still smug, added, “A wise choice, though, I must point out, if they catch you, cloaked or not, you’ll still be thrown into the dungeon.”

  Ignoring his comment, I tightened the belt holding my newly gained golden rod bag and whispered, “Alright, Plan F is in motion… Now, time to sneak out before I’m paraded around as Rimelion’s most wanted thief.”

  Footsteps grew louder, and the shadows of approaching guards stretched across the stone floor.

  I tried to be as unassuming as I could, but the guards were smarter, or at least more thorough, than I gave them credit for. They spread out like a net, blocking every hallway and exit I could see.

  My pulse quickened as I realized sneaking out wasn’t an option.

  “Okay, Plan Z then!” I whispered to myself, shrugging off the cloak and letting it fall dramatically to the floor, leaving my armor and royal-esque outfit fully visible.

  “What is Plan Z?” the prince asked, his tone practically vibrating with amusement.

  Instead of answering him, I spotted a group of guards further down the hall and immediately raised my hand in an exaggerated wave to get their attention. “HEY! I saw him!” I yelled, trying to channel every ounce of authority I’d ever seen in an imperial figure.

  I straightened my posture, puffed out my chest a little, and threw in an indignant glare for good measure. “He ran that way!”