This short story, well, at least for now, as I'm not sure how much you'll enjoy it, so I'm not speaking about its future yet. However, I would like to pay homage to the work "So I'm a Spider, So What?" which greatly inspired me while creating this. The core idea of that work isn't really about the TG element, but a side plot involving a particular character deeply inspired me to create this.
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Through the murmur of voices, intricately woven into the music of the evening ball, I could barely make out the sound of my own breathing. The grand hall of the Stiveyr Castle, my home since birth in this world, shimmered with golden reflections of magical lanterns. The patterns on the walls shifted, echoing the sparkle of gemstones in the attire of the gathered guests. Lavish gowns, formal doublets, smiles stretched as tight as the corsets.
But I remembered that I had once lived in another world.
Michael Stevenson — a schoolboy from New York. A test, the noise of the classroom, the squeaking of a marker on the board... Then a blinding flash, and I woke up as an infant. Here. In the body of the third prince of the Kingdom of Stiveyr. Fifteen years had passed since then, and I had grown used to this new life — the magic, the title, the duties — as much as one could, considering I still clearly remembered who I had been.
Tonight was the evening after the Ceremony of Essence Revelation — an event that determined the fate of all noble children in the kingdom. A magical crystal revealed talents: mana capacity, life force, spiritual connections — a whole list of parameters defining who you would become.
My results were high, as expected of a prince, but in truth, they were even too high. However, one parameter... one gift was beyond understanding. That strange parameter — "XR=9" — had appeared on the magical crystal the moment my essence was scanned. The Council of Mages exchanged puzzled glances, whispering among themselves, but found no explanation. My father, King Alen Stiveyr, remained silent, though I noticed the shift in his expression. The usually soft, warm gaze he reserved for me and my brothers turned thoughtful. But not cold. More like... perplexed?
Among the many gifts granted to me, that strange parameter, XR=9, seemed lost in the sea of other, far more impressive results. A vast mana pool, a rare third-tier spiritual connection, resistance to curses — the crystal practically radiated with the revealed abilities, and it was this brilliance that became the subject of conversation.
The Council of Mages was in awe. The ball's guests — enchanted.
And now, with the formalities over and the feast underway, I stood here, smiling — just enough to meet expectations. Slight bows, polite phrases, obligatory compliments.
Another duke. Another lady, sighing in admiration over "the magnificence of my mana." It all felt mechanical, almost mindless, yet every gesture, every word, was calculated to perfection.
Because I am Thaleus Stiveyr — a prince. The third, perhaps, but still of royal blood. Here, in the heart of Stiveyr Castle, I had to radiate the strength and authority of my lineage.
But inside... Inside, a tight, cold knot pressed beneath my ribs. My heart beat slightly faster than it should. My hands, hidden beneath my gloves, trembled ever so slightly.
Nervousness? Yes. But there was something else. That strange gift was not mine alone. Lady Elianora Worthwing. The eldest daughter of a duke, who was the same age as me, and whose crystal had shown the same result.
A coincidence? Or... Could she be someone from my real world? I had to speak with her. I had to find out. Even though fifteen long years had passed and my face was different, and she likely wouldn’t recognize me. Even I doubted it... And yet.
Among the dazzling gowns of noble ladies, her dress stood out with restrained elegance: deep black velvet with silver embroidery, intricate patterns of shimmering threads — radiant, yet not ostentatious. Her dark hair was styled into a perfect cascade adorned with a pearl diadem, and around her neck glistened a silver and light quartz necklace with a massive cross, the ancient symbol of House Worthwing.
Lady Elianora approached me slowly, accompanied by her father — a tall, silver-haired man with a stern face and the cold eyes of someone accustomed to power.
She stopped a step away, lowered her gaze, and curtsied — perfect, flawless, as royal etiquette demanded. Her movements were impeccable: smooth, graceful, filled with refined femininity, as if this entire evening had been made for moments like these.
— Your Highness, — her voice was melodic, yet measured. Respectful. Dutiful. Everything palace manners required.
I inclined my head in response, coolly polite, as my status dictated.
— Lady Elianora. Duke Worthwing. An honor to see you in our home this evening. Your house is renowned for its magical crystal mines. I trust good news from your lands continues to please the kingdom.
— Certainly, Your Highness, — the Duke responded, his voice deep and commanding.
Elianora only offered a slight nod, lowering her eyes again, as a modest lady of her station should.
Everything was as usual. Familiar words. Familiar phrases. Another formality... All of it felt absurd, and I could not risk my reputation. However—
Quietly, barely above a whisper, I leaned closer, speaking in a way even her father could not hear:
— Do you remember Mr. Caldwell's math test? — I said in perfect English, a language no one used here.
I almost regretted it instantly. Too blunt. Too obvious. But—
Elianora's eyes widened. Her fingers clenched the fabric of her dress. She inhaled too sharply, and her lower lip trembled just slightly.
Now I was sure. Or almost sure that this girl was my classmate. But who? None of the girls in my class had such manners, such grace, such... elegance.