If I had a nickel for every time I’ve died I would have two nickels. It isn’t a lot, but it has happened twice, I remember both times, which may be even weirder. Even now as I look around, I am floating in a familiar pitch black void. Let’s go back to the beginning.

Hello, my name used to be Natalie Woodhull. ‘Used to’ being the keywords there. After sacrificing my life in an effort to protect a child, at the request of someone I may or may not have had a crush on, I appeared in this same void area. While I was waiting, a bright flash occurred and a rabbit beast-human showed herself to me.

“Hello. I am Cassandra. The Ruler of spirits, souls, and reincarnation,” she said.

“Are you God?” I asked.

“No, dear child, I am well above those beings. I am in charge of guiding souls across the multi-verse. In most cases, the gods in charge of your world would deal with you accordingly. However, a favor was called in by the Ruler of dimensions. He told me to transport your soul into an empty shell in a universe I deem beneficial.”

“Beneficial to who?”

“You. Now normally in the stories of your world people are granted an unimaginable power. Your power is the fact that you have extremely powerful knowledge and were born already with an eidetic memory in your last life, coupled with your control over your emotions, you’ll be fine.”

“You know the stories?”

“Dear, every story has its own universe. Every fan fiction and original story have their own place. Now I do think our time here is up.” After she said that everything went white.

With that quick introduction, I now wake up in extreme pain. Both physically and mentally. Mentally, about five years of memories were being merged with mine and physically because I was a bruised and chained up in the back of a moldy and broken carriage.

My natural disposition, emotionally despondent, allowed me to maintain a passive face in front of all of the other malnourished children even though my own mind was in turmoil. Lucky me.

After an excruciating period of time later, I had absorbed all of the memories.

This body is called Lillian, an orphan since birth. No father to speak of, and a mother that died during childbirth. With golden yellow blonde hair, and emerald green eyes, she could have been a cute child if not for the state of the orphanages, as poorly funded they were.

They were managed by the country and, well, not taken care of. Full of corrupt caretakers, they spent all of their time, barely fulfilling the role of caring for us. Seeing as the current period seems to be a medieval, fantasy kind of world, this seems fitting.

Except for the fact that we were essentially just sold into slavery. They worded it as adoption, but I know better. We are to work as servants in the noble’s mansions. Our fate in unknown to us. Some of these people I may never see again.

We all sit quietly as we ride. Some of us dragged off at points by our handlers. None of us react. We have already resigned to our fate. The silent tears shed were noticed, but left unspoken.

This other girl and I were the last ones left. If I remember correctly, her name was like Jodie? I didn’t really care to remember. The only thing really of note is her pointed ears signifying her elven heritage.

We were left for delivery at the ducal estate, a known eccentric and playboy, a combination for disaster. However, we were lucky as we were not nearly important enough to meet him.

Instead we met a stern looking head maid who sniffed and sneered at us. We had no choice but to follow her. We were led to a corner of a back garden with a tub of cold water waiting for us. As we were cleaning ourselves, the head maid looking person came back with two identical uniforms.

“You two are to become trained maids of the exemplary noble house of Duke Harrison. You are to address all manner of people with their correct title, myself being Head Maid Gloria, and treat all with proper decorum.” She spoke her first words to us with a stern, authoritative voice that seems to penetrate the soul. The girl at my side…Lucy was shivering from both the cold water and the intimidating Head Maid, but I was left unfazed.

At the difference in our reactions, a glint in Gonorrhea’s eye passed by as quickly as it came. We were left with a list of tasks to perform that day such as: clean the west wing hallways, clean the lavatories, assist the gardeners, and clean the dishes in the kitchens. We set off to do all of these cleaning jobs starting with the gardens since we were already there. I noticed that a few people were hiding around the corner, observing our every action.

At one point, Rosebud accidentally pulled up a flower instead of a weed and the people watching us made a move. Moving with speed that I couldn’t see, Rosemary was met with beatings and blows as they shouted at her failure, then berated me for allowing such an event to occur.

With the fear of punishment put into her we set about cleaning the mansion with vigorous attitude.

At one point, Gladys was milling about giving a tour to some other maids that apparently were just hired and not bought like us. You see, they get wages and freedoms, we don’t and have no room to complain.

Our trip to the kitchen was…eventful. In my last life I lived solely on packaged ramen and macaroni. I don’t think I drank water in the last four years of my life due to my college lifestyle at the robotics institute. Anyway, the reason I mention this is due to the fact that when we finished the dishes, our last task, we were given a challenge to prepare a meal.

Roslin’s was okay, mine was treated as nuclear waste. I am no longer allowed to cook.

The girl-whose-name-I-can’t-remember and I were forced to share a room with twelve other maids and all of us were packed like sardines. Even with this, I can notice that the others were trying to give us a wide range. Well, wide as two inches, but still.

Our lives were uneventful. The other maids trying to stay away from us, but we work in the same building, so we had to interact still. Though through the rumor mill I found out why we avoided. They thought of us as rabid children that the Duke was so kind as to take us off the streets, how thoughtful, and employed us in his mansion for his kindness.

Other things of note, magic systems are really underdeveloped. They really think that a person’s magic determines their personality, like darkness being evil and light being kind. What garbage is that?