You rush through the streets on your way back, having forgotten a meeting about to begin. If only you could hire some sort of butler who could keep track of your schedule.... but alas, you couldn't imagine any Englishman who wouldn't turn you in right away.
You feel an ominous presence behind you.
Just nerves, right?
To be safe, you duck into a storefront and watch the street.
A certain blonde and his butler enter behind you.
You discreetly peek over a tall shelf and nearly catch their eyes as they stare at you.
Bloody-! I didn't think they would find me so quickly!
Trying to act natural, you leave the store and quickly enter the one next door.
Several seconds later, they follow behind.
Thank goodness you have a trap door in the store across the street. You abandon normalcy and run across the street.
Claude glances after you. "Shall I give chase, your highness?"
Alaude grins. "Such a beautiful creature. No, Claude, let her go for now. We know she's here. Miss [Last Name] may run, but she can't hide."
Claude pushes up his glasses, hiding a smile. "That's what you think, Master," He says under his breath.
----
Once inside the tunnel, you breath a sigh of relief. Safe at last.
Or so you thought.
You, being yourself, knock into a shelf of various storage boxes.
A gray powder settles across the room.
The candle you were holding falls to the ground.
The world explodes around you, ripping you apart with the worst pain you'd ever imagined.
Suddenly, everything stops.
And an attractive half blond, half brunette stands in front of your with a lawn mower.
Am I hallucinating? Or is he an..... angel?!?!?!?!?!
He stares at one page if a book. "Hm, [Name] [Middle Name] [Last Name]. Death by..... oh, that doesn't sound pleasant. All seems to be order, however, so what's the problem?" He stares at you. "Not this again.... Are you under contract to a demon?"
"Demon? I don b'lieve in t'ose..." you whisper as best as you can through tears of agony.
"If it isn't a demon... This could be quite the special circumstance!"
"Huh?" You cough, spluttering blood.
"You may be the first one in over 300 years!"
"Wha's yor prollem?" You groan in pain.
"It appears that you are one of very few people who will actually do good for the world by living longer!"
"Meaning?"
"Congratulations! Today you have cheated death! Though your probably wish you could die at the moment...." He produces a flask out of nowhere and poured something into his mouth. Leaning down toward your face, he places his lips against your and forces you to swallow the liquid.
Your face turns red as you shove him away. "What the h- do you think you're doing?"
"Recovered nicely." He winks. "If you need me again, just remember Ronald Knox, at your service!"
You put your fingers to your lips. "Weird...." You mutter. But you suddenly feel perfectly alright.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Are you alright?" The palace cook, a woman around 10 or 11 years older than yourself, rushes toward you. Unfortunately, you are still in your street clothes.
Well you are in the cellar, after all. You sigh and prepare to run for your life.
"You! You are-"
Not the queen. You cringe.
"[Name] Sis!" The cook squeals. "I've missed you so much!" She clutches you in a bear hug.
"Do I know you?" You ask, bewildered and running out of oxygen.
"You don't remember me? I'm your older sister! Don't you remember? Well, I guess I got kicked out of the house when you were younger, so I shouldn't expect much."
You gawk.
"It wasn't that bad! I just wanted to marry my sweetheart, but he was 'below our class.'" She laughs. "But guess what? He died a year afterward, and so here I am! I started as a kitchen helper, and now! I'm the head cook of the Queen's..... er, royal palace!"
You scratch your head. "So you won't turn me in? Even though I assassinated the Queen?"
"My own sister? Never!"
Your knees finally give out and you faint.