The first thing I felt when I woke up... was pain.

A stabbing ache behind my ribs, a cold heaviness in my limbs,like I'd fallen from a skyscraper and landed on stone.

The second thing I felt was wind...a cold, and sharp mountain wind brushing my cheeks, carrying the faint smell of pine and smoke. It cut through my thin clothes and made me shiver violently.

The third thing I noticed...

was that the body beneath me wasn't mine

I opened my eyes and the sky was dark, swirling with Stormy clouds, as I lay sprawled on rough dirt. Sharp rocks dug into my palms and body. My throat was raw, and dry, as though I had cried or screamed for hours.

My vision blurred, then later steadied and became more clearer to see the world around me.

I slowly pushed myself up, groaning as pain shot through my legs. I looked down...

And froze.

These weren't my clothes...I remembered wearing my chef uniform I'd worn at the competition stage but instead..I am dressed in torn, soaked medieval rags, stained with mud and dark patches that looked too much like dried blood.

I remembered running till my lungs burned, and my legs screamed for relief, but I didn't dare stop. Because every step I took was a step closer to survival..or so I thought. Behind me, I could hear their footsteps, sharp and relentless. The jealous whispers of my competitors had escalated into threats. Threats I knew they intended to carry out.

I had won every major cooking competition in the country. But now, the awards, the fame, wealth and recognition are all meaningless to me now. Because they were coming for me.

I didn't have time to think. I only had time to run.

The streets were slick with rain. My heels slapped against the pavement, echoing in the empty alleyways. My heart pounded so violently I thought it would burst out through my chest.

And then...

A truck.

I didn't see it coming. Its headlights blinded me, and I couldn't get out of the way. The sound of tires scrapping the concrete road was deafening, followed by a sharp, burning impact that threw me off my feet. Pain shot through every bone, every nerve of my body. My world flipped, turned around, and cracked open.

I screamed out but the sound dissolved into nothing. Before darkness swallowed me whole.

I woke up from my unconsciousness,

My hands trembled as I dragged my fingers over my sleeves...with a cheap looking fabric which seemed rough, and hand-sewn. Nothing like anything from the 21st century.

"What... the hell?" I whispered.

My voice sounded the same..soft, though a little husky but something else wasn't right.

I touched her face.

My cheekbones were sharper. My chin is narrower. My eyelashes are longer. My hair...

I grabbed a fistful and it was Long,Wavy and seemed dark brown.

Not the short, black bob I had since my culinary school.

My breathing hitched.

"No. No, no, no...."

I scrambled toward a puddle nearby, the only reflective surface in sight. The water looked foggy, but the moment my face appeared, my heart stopped.

Staring back was the face of another girl, with her wide hazel eyes. Her Soft lips. And a small nose dusted with freckles.

A face I couldn't recognize...that wasn't my face.

Am sure I wasn't hallucinating. I wasn't dreaming,or having a mental breakdown...

My throat tightened. "I was in someone else's body."

A body I knew nothing about.

A bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the mountains around me. Rain started to fall lightly, cold sting

against my skin. And then a flow of memories about the body I had just inhabited flashes through my brain right from how her family treated her to the point where she was kidnapped till when she fell from the mountain. So her name was Annabelle Hale.

But why her?

Why me?

How are we connected?

And why are we like this?

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to make sense of anything.

The last thing I remembered as Irene...was being hit by a truck of which I think I fell into a coma...or am I dead?

And now here I am

"Where is Here?" I whispered, looking around in panic.

The world around me was wrong...too quiet, too vast, too untouched by anything modern. There were no modern buildings, no electric lights, not even a phone in my pocket...that's if I had any pocket to begin with...

My hands pat my sides frantically. No phone. No ID. Not nothing.

My breath quickened.

Panic clawed up my throat.

"What is happening to me?"

But the universe didn't answer.

I stumbled backward. My knees buckled with the ground tilted beneath me,as I still stood looking confused. I pressed my hands to my cheeks as a scream caught my throat.

Irene Chen. That's me. That's who I am.

I'm a chef. An award-winning chef from the twenty-first century. I'm not supposed to be here. Not in this body. Not in this... world...I stood and found my way into the street, observing the horses. Chariots. Men in tunics, cloaks, and armor, carrying long spears. Women with head coverings, their skirts brushing the cobblestones as they hurried along. Smoke rose from distant chimneys. The air smelled alive,like a world untouched by cars, phones, or electricity.

The reality hit me with a crushing force..I had been transported into the past.

The 21st century is gone. My modern kitchen, my awards, my life..it was all a memory now. And I was trapped... in the body of a girl I had never truly known... whose body I now inhabited.

I sank to the hard ground. My mind raced.

How did this happen?

Why me?

Why now?

And most importantly... How do I survive?

And I can't go back to being Annabelle knowing fully well that her family hates her, they will just hand her back to the traffickers...so I can't let them find me or let them know that I am still alive.

I pressed my hands to my chest. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, yet I knew I had to act. I had to survive...because I am never the type to give up in any situation I find myself.

I looked at the clothes I was wearing, it was torn, soaked, and entirely inappropriate. Hunger bit into me. Cold crept into my bones. And my mind, though frantically grasping for answers, knew one thing with terrifying clarity...

That If I didn't hide who I really was, I wouldn't live to see tomorrow... in a place where swords, chariots, and strange customs reigned. Where men ruled over women. Where a helpless girl like Annabelle could be sold, betrayed, or killed, and no one would bat an eye.

Horses dragged chariots along the streets, their hooves clattering against the stone. Merchants shouted over one another, selling fruits I had never seen, dried meats, loaves of bread baked in uneven, blackened ovens. Women in long, layered skirts carried baskets on their heads. Men in tunics and cloaks barked at one another over small arguments, their language was archaic yet somehow understandable.

I stumbled over a stone, my body seemed unsteady, and a villager caught me before I fell completely. I wanted to speak, to ask for help, to beg for food or water...but my voice sounded delicate and unfamiliar, making me look timid, almost laughable.

"Please... I..." I began.

But a young girl, barely older than a teenager, crossed her arms and shouted at me. "Go away, you stranger. We don't help the poor and strange looking people, and you're filthy." And the children started throwing stones at me. I flinched at the pain and ran to a hidden corner...away from their prying eyes.

I look strange, agreed... but Filthy? That word cut me deep like a knife. I looked down at my torn gown...oh no, my gown was already ruined and fully stained with mud,and I realized she was right. I was a mess, looking like an alien here. I had no money, no identity, no place in this world.

Panic rose in my chest. I pressed my hands to my stomach. Hunger burns me like fire. I haven't eaten since... forever. Every instinct from my life as Irene, my own world of convenience, warmth, and abundance, screamed at myself...you have to Eat, Survive, and Move on.

I stumbled toward a marketplace stall, eyeing the bread stacked unevenly. "Please... may I..."

"Shoo! Get away!" The merchant pushes my hands away. "We have nothing for beggars like you!" By the corner of his store, I picked up some leftover bread and ate without his notice. It tasted strange but I had to eat and quench the hunger.

Tears gathered in my eyes, but I blinked them back. I had no choice. I couldn't afford to look weak. Not here. Not in this world.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. If I want to survive, I have to think. And act fast.

I noticed a pile of male clothing tucked in a corner, sturdy, clean, neat and simple. I moved it to a corner where eyes wasn't watching, pulled off the dirty thorn gown then pulled on the tunic over my head, tugged the trousers into place, and tied the belt as tightly as I could. My hair, long and wavy, I tucked them under the hood.

I looked into a small puddle of water for a reflection. The girl looking back... was gone. In her place now, was a boy. Though Slightly awkward, and small, but looks like a male figure.

I whispered to myself, testing the name that already felt right in my mouth:

"Daniel... Daniel Haston."

The name felt strong. It felt safe. It was like a mask, yes... and also served as a shield for me.

When I returned to the town, I felt a difference from the way I was being treated before. People no longer glanced at me with disdain or scorn. No children threw stones or laughed at my tattered appearance. Guards nodded with respect as they passed me. Merchants bowed slightly, offering polite greetings.

I paused in the middle of the street, absorbing it all.

I heard whispers behind me, but this time they weren't mocking.

"Good lad," one man said. "Strong enough to carry supplies, I bet?"

"Indeed," another added. "A young man with a clean appearance. Likely from a respectable home."

I am now a Clean and Respectable man.

I blinked in disbelief. In this world, it seems that the men were more respected, valued, and given priority, while women were dismissed, ignored, and often mistreated.

A spark of understanding lit in my chest. If I wanted to survive here, I couldn't risk being seen as Annabelle. I couldn't be vulnerable.

Daniel Haston would exist. Daniel would hide everything Annabelle or I once were. And Daniel would survive this.

For the first time since waking in this body, for the first time since being pulled from my own world, I felt something close to safety.

I straightened my shoulders, squared my jaw, and walked through the marketplace with the air of a boy who belonged here. The wind caught the hood of my cloak, and I tightened it around my neck, feeling its weight.

Hunger chewed at my stomach...the bread I ate earlier didn't solve it, my mind raced for solutions. I had no money. No place to stay. No identity. But I only have one skill that I call my own...

Cooking.

"Daniel," I whispered to myself again, testing the name once more. "You're Daniel now. You have to survive disguising and acting like a man. You will hide and become invisible so you can live."

Walking further to what seemed like the town square which seemed alive in a way it looked both foreign and fascinating. Cobblestone streets glistened from the recent rain. Some Merchants shouting over each other, selling bread, fruits, and strange dried meats. A blacksmith hammered iron with rhythmic precision, sparks flying with every strike. Children ran between carts, their laughter ringing in the humid air.

Everything screamed ancient, yet I understood it. Their language was slightly different, old-fashioned, and formal...but I understood it.

I clutched my chest. Hunger continued to eat at me, as Fear twisted in my stomach.

And then I saw it. A notice posted by the guards at the edge of the square.

"A CHEF IS NEEDED FOR THE ROYAL PALACE. MALE APPLICANTS ONLY. HIGH PAY."

I froze. A chef? In this world? My hands tingled with anticipation. Cooking... my one true skill. If I could convince them I was male, maybe, just maybe... I could survive.

But rumors flying around say that the crown prince is ruthless. Rumors say he has killed every chef who defied him."

A chill ran down my spine. Every nerve in my body screamed for me to run. Every instinct told me danger awaits me if I applied for this job.

And yet... hunger and desperation pushed me forward. I am Daniel now. I can survive this if I play my part well ,no one will notice anything about me, I will become invisible that I will hardly ever be noticed, not even by the so-called ruthless Prince...after all I can cook, and maybe that would buy me safety.

And, if luck was on my side... I might even find a way back to my own world.

I took a deep breath. The palace gates loomed ahead of me, massive and imposing, adorned with silver and blue banners. Guards in polished armor stared at me as I approach them

I swallowed my fear, squared my shoulders, and spoke:

"I... I am here to apply for the chef position."

The guards exchanged looks as if I am not physically fit enough for the position or that I am not skilled enough to be a cook for their prince... One raised an eyebrow, and was clearly skeptical.

"Do you know who you are speaking to?" the taller guard demanded.

I didn't flinch. "My name is Daniel Haston and I can cook. That is all that matters."

For the first time since waking in Annabelle's body, I felt a spark of hope.

Maybe... This was my chance to survive.

Maybe... This was my chance to change everything.

Because one thing was certain:

I was no longer Irene Chen. And I was no longer bearing the identity of the body named Annabelle, I just inhabited even though I am curious about the connection between us... I was Daniel now and I have to start living as him

And Daniel had a fight ahead of her...one that could cost everything, including her life.

After the interrogation at the first gate, the guards usher me inside towards the palace second gates.

The second palace gates loomed before me like a fortress, towering higher than the first gates with iron-bound doors and guards who looked ready to decapitate anyone who dared step out of line. My stomach rumbled...not from hunger this time, but from a strange mixture of fear and anticipation.

I tightened the hood of my cloak and stepped forward feeling nervous. The guards snapped to attention immediately, hands on their weapons. My pulse jumped, but I held my head high. I had to look like a man, strong, capable, and fearless.

"Halt," one of them barked. His eyes swept me up and down, scanning every inch of my appearance. "Who are you? State your business."

"I... I am Daniel Haston," I said, trying to steady my voice. "Here to apply for the palace chef position."

The guards exchanged a glance. One of them grunted and ran a hand over my tunic, for a second I thought he was checking for the telltale curves of a female body. My heart thudded so violently I thought they'd hear me.

After what felt like an eternity, the guard stepped back. "Very well boy, as you have claimed you may now proceed inside."

I exhaled sharply, feeling the first small relief of the day.

Inside, the palace was breathtaking. Gardens stretched endlessly, fountains splashed in elegant patterns, and towering structures rose toward the sky, decorated with gold and intricate carvings. My eyes widened, drinking in every detail, every flourish. I'd read about grand palaces in history books, seen them on television, but this...this was alive. Real and Intimidating.

I walked through the corridors, trying to ignore the awe that threatened to unbalance me. Every step brought me closer to my goal...the kitchen, the test, and the chance to survive.

Finally, I reached the head steward's office. The man inside was older, his robes looked perfectly neat, his eyes sharp and calculating. He looked me up and down, his suspicion imprinted into every line of his face.

"And you claim to be a chef?" he asked, his voice cold.

"Yes," I replied, holding my head high. "I can cook. I can manage a kitchen. I can work under pressure."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Have you heard about the rumors?"

I swallowed. "I am aware. But I am also aware that your kitchen needs someone competent. And I am willing to prove myself."

For a long moment, he studied me, with his gaze almost like a predator, as if he were trying to see through the boy I claimed to be. Finally, he sighed. "Very well. Follow me. The royal kitchen awaits. You will cook for the prince himself as a test."

I felt my knees go weak, but I straightened immediately. A chance to prove myself and survive the test.

As I followed the steward through towering doors, my eyes drank in the kitchen. It has huge cauldrons, roaring fires, stacks of ingredients, gleaming knives, and dozens of men working with every detail and carefulness. The heat was intense, and the smell of meats, herbs, bread, different spices...was overwhelming. But something deep inside me lit up.

I belonged here. I could do this.

The steward placed a hand on my shoulder. "Do not fail. The Crown Prince has little patience for incompetence. Now Begin."

I nodded... my hands already itching to work, my mind calculating, planning, and tasting in my imagination.

For the first time in this strange, frightening world, I felt power in my own hands again.

I am Daniel Haston, and I was about to step into the most dangerous kitchen in the empire, while putting my existence in this ancient world into risk. "I have to survive this."

Aside from the fact that the men chefs were working with precision and in order,

The moment I stepped into the royal kitchen, the kitchen noise hit me first like a raging storm. There were clattering pots, sizzling oil, and shouting chefs. But louder than all of that ,were the whispers and murmurs.

"Look at him... he's so small."

"He'll faint before the stove even heats."

"Another weakling who thinks he can survive here."

Their eyes stabbed into me like knives. These men were twice my size, smirking as though I had already failed. My thin frame and young face made it worse. I tried not to shrink under their stares.

Let them laugh. I wasn't here to impress any of them. I was here to survive.

The head steward clapped his hands sharply, commanding silence from everyone.

"Daniel Haston," he announced, "you will prepare the dish the former royal chef failed at."

The room fell dead quiet... A few chefs even stepped back in fear.

And that... wasn't reassuring to me at all.

A pot slammed in front of me. "The Crown Prince wants Phoenix Flame Soup. The last chef overcooked the broth and lost his head."

My stomach dropped.

"Executed... over soup?"

The steward's cold eyes locked onto mine. "If you fail, you'll be thrown out. If you anger the prince, well... you know the consequences."

Excellent. No pressure...of course that's the highest pressure I have ever been under..

But I inhaled carefully, steadying myself. Then I rolled up my sleeves, tied my borrowed apron, and faced the ingredients laid out before me...even though the vegetables were poorly chopped, the meat unevenly sliced, and the spices scattered without care...

This kitchen was supposed to serve royalty.

No wonder someone died.

I began working. My hands moved on instinct...my instinct, Irene's instinct.

First, I corrected the cuts, slicing the vegetables into uniform pieces, fast and clean.

My knife rhythm echoed through the kitchen...quick, precise, and professional.

Then Murmurs rose...

"Look at that speed..."

"Is he actually... trained?"

But I was barely listening. I slipped into the focus I knew so well.

A modern chef's mindset in an ancient kitchen.

I simmered the broth low, coaxing flavor instead of burning it.

I toasted the herbs gently to release their fragrance.

I seared the meat with control, using heat levels. And the flames obeyed me.

These men didn't even understand how I was cooking. It seemed odd to them as they were confused looking at what I was doing.

Minutes passed, it was tense and silent. Even the other chefs stopped cooking to see how different I was.

Finally, the aroma drifted through the room.. which was rich, and very fragrant,

Gasps echoed around me.

"What kind of technique is that?"

"I've never smelled anything like this..."

"This boy...he doesn't look normal."

I served the soup into a porcelain bowl, garnishing it with fresh herbs and a perfectly thin slice of roasted pepper that floated like a flame.

Making it look Beautiful, Balanced, and more presentable.

The steward approached it slowly, as if afraid the dish might explode on his face.

He lifted the spoon,then tasted it...

...and his eyes widened.

"This..." he whispered, "is perfection."

His voice boomed across the kitchen. "Prepare this dish for presentation to His Highness!"

The chefs stared at me as though I'd turned into some mythical creature they did not understand and of course their stares were right...I am a mythical creature from the future inhabiting another female's body who is now disguised as a boy to survive this ancient world.

A few of the chefs even stepped aside respectfully.

Whispers swelled in:

"He might actually survive here."

"No, more than that...he might rise."

"That boy... he's dangerous and looks abnormal."

"How can someone so small and beautiful like a maiden cook this way"

I stood there, chest rising and falling, my hands trembling...not from fear, but from something else...

My Confidence and Power.

For the first time in this world, I felt it settling into me.

I wasn't just surviving.

I was proving myself.

Daniel Haston might not really exist.

But Irene...the chef I used to be...was very much alive.

And this palace was about to learn exactly what I could do.