"Oh daarling~"

My parents are disgusting. Pure shamelessly disgusting. They're like a whole canister of cheap sugar dumped into a decent cup of coffee, completely ruining it in diabetes.

"Daaaaaarling," mother coos again, nuzzling her head back and forth into father's chest.

Curled up in his side over his lap, she cuddles and clings on very much like how a toddler Lilyanne does. Except she's a shameless grown woman. I can't even look at her.

Grander than any king on a treasured throne, my father sits imposingly. Face seemingly expressionless but content enough. The slight quirk of his lip, something I know means he's quite pleased with himself. His hand mindlessly petting her head as he seems to focus on the music and show below.

Which is a lie. He's just that into himself. The horrid fiend.

Servents line up behind him, fine wine by his side, a beautiful wife that acts more like a spoiled mistress, acting not her age at all. Sprawling in and over his lap like that, like a puppy dog torn between being 'good' or cutely begging for attention. Her enthusiasm and floating hearts more than making up for his lack of an obvious reaction to her pawing.

"Love love kyaaa I looooove you darling~ Kyaaaa! " she screams, nuzzling even harder when he graces her with a quick peck.

I'm going to throw up. Where's the trash bin?

I don't even care if we're in public anymore. If my parents are going to be this shameless no one will notice the toddler vomiting in the background. The noise they call music playing down below will drown out my retching.

That's right. We're at the Opera house!

A very inappropriate place for children and public affection, especially both.

Down below the hard working, though misguided, actors and musicians are grinding their performances. Playing it up all for the amusements and emotions of the audience. People who paid good money to see a show, be entertained, be given an experience! A sight that can't easily be found just anywhere. One of the real pleasures of a big city.

And here my gross parents are. Flirting.

Are they truly a noble married couple with children? Or unrestrained teenagers in the dark movie theatre, fueled by hormones and awfulness? Oh the shame!

Mother behave!

Father, stop her already! Make her stop!!! Tell her to sit, behave, put on a shawl!? Oh the shame. You know better?!!

Normally it's father that puts a stop to all displays of public affection, but the fiend has been increasingly bold and merciless with his teasing as of late. Still, this is just too much.

Maybe this doesn't count enough as public?

At the very least there are no strangers around to face their judgment. The balcony seats providing not only much-needed privacy but it also has a great vantage point. Thick velvet curtains. Extra darkness and extra roomy seats. A silencing charm to help buffer out noise for the viewing pleasures of everyone around.

Perfect for disgusting couples!

"Lookie at funny hat man! Heehee. Very fat lady. Oh! Mama Papa wat dat?! Ooooooh. Oh Lily wanna peepee now."

And families with loud children I guess.

With barely a glance from father's eyes, a pair of maid steps up to carry Lilyanne from her seat.

There, my chance!

"I gotta go too!" I pipe up, ready to do anything to escape the vicinity.

Georgie is being a very bad attendant. In fact, he's been ignoring my pain and groans of second-hand embarrassment the whole time. Eyes glued down to the strange opera show below, munching on mixed nuts and rice crackers like it was popcorn.

"I said...I must visit the little girl's powder room." I enunciate again.

Surrounded by his superiors, and of course the Lord and Lady of the house, he cannot mistreat me like a brat to be babysat like he usually does. If I say it's go time, so be it!

The day after the homewrecking incident my parents didn't show their faces till dinnertime, and they've been extra gross ever since! It was so dangerous that I've had to tie up Lily every time she tries looking to sleep with mother.

No! No no no. No going near the parentals bedroom suite! Not anymore!

If they're this bad in public, I just can't risk any of their private spaces.

I'm seriously going to be sick just by breathing the same air that they've polluted. Too much exposure and I will likely die from second-hand embarrassment.

Reluctantly Georgie gets up from his seat behind mine, to escort my escape. Like a good assistant should.

"Right at the good part..." he sighs.

Once we passed the black space of the curtains, another area for privacy and soundproofing, I try making a real break for it. If not for the Georgie and the waiting maids, three of them, who have escorted us.

"That is not the way to the nearest chamber station my young miss." calmy states the eldest tallest maid of the bunch. One who I suspect is really a secret guard in a disguised dress.

It's a little hard to tell them apart in their outerwear headscarves and coverings, looking a bit like informal nuns. But I'm pretty sure she's wearing armor or something down there and those are leather gloves underneath the sleeves. Lady's dresses just have a lot of hiding potential.

I would know.

"Yeah Rosa, the ...powder room, isn't that way." Georgie teases.

Flanked by the other two maids, demurely and properly nodding their heads low, he gives a very mean girl's impression. It's amazing how much that suits him.

"Fine. Lead the way." I relent.

Together the mean girls' squad escorts my sister and me safely, and without any trouble. It's almost as if they're guarding against our escape than any outside forces. Specifically me.

How rude.

Other than the nursery assigned maids I'm not trying to make anyone's jobs much harder. On the contrary. At home, I've wasted my own very precious time to improve everyone's work and living standards.

Cleanliness with soaps, butter churners turned washing machines, the distribution of employee education, local public transportation, better food. Lots of wonderful delicious food being created.

And what thanks do I get? Being treated like a little convicted criminal. Oh for shame.

The ladies' powder room is well lit and even more well perfumed. Given that many ladies have pages, stewards, even guards following them around, men are allowed in with a separate waiting section.

If Georgie so wishes he may sit back, relax, and pour himself some very diluted wine left out in pitchers for the servants.

One door past and there are the dressing and powder rooms. The scent of perfume and Potpourri growing only stronger. Flowers, both fresh and dried, decorate the space meant for feminine audience goers on the upper floors. Here women may touch up their make up, perhaps change gowns, anything their delicate little whims desires in the dark privacies of womankind.

Behind that, are seemingly empty rooms. The furniture sparse and a large cabinet holding fine, beautifully painted even porcelain.

If I had come fresh from the modern times, with no cursed memories or special knowledge, I might think it quite odd. Why would anyone place their good china here? Dishes? Pitchers? What are they doing here?

But I'm not. It's a commode.

A.k.a. the cabinet of chamberpots. Pots of piss, or more if need be. The toilet sets and all the extra accessories, of course. We're in the VIP 'powder room'! Everything is clean, spacious and pristine, even if the plumbing is not a thing. Why there's even an 'out' cabinet, meant for a lady's maid to, uh...place the dirty toilet set after they're all good and finished.

Just put it there and slam the door. Pretend it doesn't exist, until the cleanup staff who probably don't get paid enough comes to do their rounds. Please do not lift the lids, I promise it is not a roast or a casserole or anything like that.

I would like to complain about all modern movies and comics for not including these ... glamorous details.

You know it's not much different than a toddler's trainee potty. Except for the fact they don't really make children's sizes. Thus the need for help. God damn it, can't even use the restroom by myself out here.

15 troublesome minutes later, Lilyanne and I are finished with business and washing our hands in fancy perfumed water running in tiny ornate fountains. The use of magic stones compensating in some aspects of modern life, but obviously not all of it.

"I don't know about you but I don't really wanna go back." I splash at my little sister.

She too seems more amused to be playing in the sink than sitting through the terrible show. My parents I mean. The innocent musicians and actors, as strange as their performance to my senses are, have no faults there.

"Yaya! Let's play!" she cheers, splashing quite loudly. So much so the water easily drenches up to her shoulders.

"Oh no. Lily's dress has gotten so wet." I monotonously start, "Oh no, it sure would be awful, and very very fun, if she went for a swim."

"Swimmy? Swimmy scary." Lilyanne answers back, probably remembering the last time we had adventures in a fountain.

"But this one is so much smaller and shorter. You won't swallow any water if you stand up and or hold big sister's hands. Not unless you open your mouth and start chugging."

"Swimmy lessons? Today? Yaaaaay!"

"That would be inadvisable my young ladies."

Suddenly the maids have us picked up in fluffy towels, legs floating in the air. One girl per maid. The tall fake maid doesn't even open her eyes, head slightly bowed as she gestures for them to come along and carry us out.

Once again my excuses stopped before they even started.

In the waiting room, Georgie fakes being a little lord. Hair gelled back in my pomade wax, waistcoat and tie in my designs, and sneering down on who? Their creator! Oh ho ho getting arrogant now are we?!

"I knew you would try something." he pinches at my cheeks.

"I haven't done a thing." I say quite honestly.

"Not yet. Only because we're watching out. Now come on."

"No. I quite refuse to go through such suffering. It's practically, no it is legitimately child abuse to force Lily and me to witness such a horrid thing."

"....the show wasn't that bad?!"

"I meant my body's gross birth givers. The incubator and donor!!"

He takes a deep breath, gesturing for the maids to release my sister and I back on the ground. Something my sister takes to mean she's free to run around in a circle, or a square. That's more the shape of the room.

"My young mistress Rosalia, the mouthy, Therese Ventrella. You know you could just call them ...oh I don't know...Lilyanne what would you, a good three year old child, call YOUR PARENTS?

"Home wrecker!" my sister answers, arms raised in glee.

He takes an even bigger calming breath, silently considering the diluted free wine. But good tastes, due to me spoiling him, makes him decide against it.

"You were saying, Georgie?"

"....crazies, you're all terrible and crazy."

"How dare you. Like a good aide, you should at least pretend to mollify your mistress in front of her face. I shall deduct your beauty bonuses for this week."

"Oh no. Whatever shall I do without you rubbing my face off?"

"It's called exfoliation! I'm only rubbing your excess skin off!"

"There is no excess skin. That's my skin! It doesn't come off!!"

"Shhhhh. Actually it does~ All the time. Now shhhhhh. You're too youthful and turning out beautifully for early stress lines."

"....did you just threaten to skin me alive, again?"

"Ow ow owwww my cheeks!"

Never before in all of Rosalia's life have I ever faced having such an unruly servant in my household. As I have genuinely advised, they would at least wait till they think I'm out of hearing distance to start shit talking me behind my back. On the front face, a good servant must always appear respectful, reverent even if not fearing for their lives.

Which is why I suppose I'm stuck with Georgie.

He's a little plain. No special skillsets, no great physical strength, no magic, honestly not a lot of potentials there even with training. He's a nice boy, I guess, but a pretty normal one.

I suppose that suits me better.

If only I was a main character sort of person. I could wait around and 'save' some extremely handsome foreign almost OP guy with a rippling 6pack or something to make into my personal eye candy servant and kinda bodyguard. Who may be shallowly in love with me as his mistress but knows it was never meant to be, so he holds back his pathetic feelings unhealthily. Yet he can't stop his desperately misdirected feelings of affection due to being touch starved and emotionally constipated. Thus swearing eternal loyalty and devotion to the idea of me, his white moonlight, all his life. Suffering silently while handling everything from the not so shadows as I densely frolic off for a brainless and a toy crown.

Damn it Lilyanne.

Some girls just have all the ....luck? Trouble? Both?

She had like, a little over a handful of harem boys with that kinda backstory. I don't know the official number! There wasn't exactly a roster and sign-in sheet on the Lilyanne reverse harem fan club.

I had to make my own, rank them and it kept updating every week. Ridiculous. The things I do to keep that girl safe.

After all, you never know when a fanboy goes off the rails. Some very overly privileged and stupid men in this era. They don't take rejection very reasonably and therapy and widespread accountability isn't exactly a thing around here.

Right now that oblivious female lead, the flower on the cliff to legions of hearts, is running around a couch laughing her head off.

Oh she's tripped! And she's back up to giggle and run some more, the maids lightly clapping and cheering her progress in running circles. At least she's stretching her legs?

I'm so glad she's only three because that shit gets really bad in about 10 or so years.

The gods of this world are unfair. Without doing anything, simply existing long enough, 'great', and very stupid, capture target worthy men will simply flock to her side. Without lifting a finger, love, reverence, and respect all come her way. Okay, maybe not that last part.

Meanwhile, I get cheek pulled! By Georgie!

"Wow, my stress is going down just like this! My young mistress is simply amazing! What great stored fats you have?! Such soooooft skin!"

"Unhand me, my face is not for squishing."

"My my my it is as soft as yeasted dough. What they say is right, after all, you are what you eat. And my young miss is full of squishy goodness. Honeybuns. Brioche loaves. Pizza. Pudding. Hmmm. "

My poor face. This is simply child abuse. Also, stop talking I'm getting hungry.

"Look Rosa-"

"You're not giving muuuuuch choice here."

Patting my mochi cheeks with some rose water and lotion, Georgie releases me just barely.

"Now listen, Rosa, I get it. We all do. Small children just aren't ready to appreciate the finer things in life. "

"I am full of finery, excuse you. I, Rosalia, am made of fine expensive things. "

"Of course little princess complainy, of course. But operas and such shows are not for small kids and I don't know why people bother bringing them? You're bored out of your mind and your little legs are restless from sitting still. I mean just look."

Despite the very badly influenced insult, that I see he's picked up. How dare Yuna and Georgie agree on such a terrible mockery, of all the things the babysitters agree on. I see the point of the rest of this statement. Kids just aren't meant for public shows. The opera or a ballet especially.

Something can be beautiful and you still just won't like it.

That and kids get restless easy.

Which is probably what my sister feels, having given up running to hop on the cushions. The maids still falsely clapping and cheering her on for doing ...nothing. Well, at least she's getting all that hyper energy out.

Even without the gross situation that is my daily life with a lovey-dovey couple, I would like to stretch my legs. I'm a human child, not a ball-jointed wooden doll. All the physical functions, and defects, of a real child, come with it.

"So, since it must be very hard for our tiny and cute little mistresses."

"You're really pushing it, Georgie."

"Especially young miss Rosalia, we shall allow you about 10 minutes to run around free in the waiting room. Followed by a snack. Then we can return to our seats."

".....I shall accept the snack immediately. I will simply take a long time to eat!"

"Yes yes, as do all children. But first."

Georgie gestures to my blessed beautiful little sister, hopping from one sofa to another. A maid playing dead on the sofa. Another playing damsel in distress on another sofa. Even the secret guard half lays on an ottoman, play-acting.

The problem is they're all doing it emotionlessly monotone. The acting is so terrible it's actually good in some comedic parody way.

"My lady. Please. You must.. cough cough, go on without me. Go."

"Noooooooo Matilda!!!"

"Oh cough cough cough. I am melting. Good. Bye. Cruel world."

"Lily savie you!"

"No.... The holy grail. You must. Cough blood splurt splurt. You must save the wooooorld. Takes last breath and dies."

You know Matilda? Usually, people don't say their actions and stage directions out loud. You physically pretend to cough, not say 'cough cough cough'. The maid 'crying' for help is doing it with a dead fish-eyed look and sounds like a bad recording. Honestly, the best actress is the one playing dead. She's doing a wonderful job just lying there.

"Actually I think I like this play better." I decide.

"It's actually not so bad." Georgie agrees with me, handing me back my purse.

After the short show of Lilyanne saving the 'world' by finally reaching a bowl of potpourri and bringing everyone back to life by throwing it over them, we can move on to snack time.

Now that there's no perceived risk of us running off, especially not with food on the line, Lilyanne and I are allowed to walk on our own two feet. All the way to the bar lounge.

Children? At the bar?

Well, it's honestly no big deal when it's more a lounge than anything. Not like anyone is here to stop us.

During intermission or after the show, this place will be filled with people. Sipping on their spirits, having a bit of refreshment and conversation over a light and overpriced meal perhaps.

But right now it's as empty as a private VIP club. Just the way a lady like me deserves.

"A private table?" the host at a podium asks, leaning us pass the stylized bars to the seats.

"We won't take long," Georgie replies "our young misses do need to get back to the Lord and Lady but, you know how little ones get."

"But of course. We offer a nursery section if so needed. "

While the waiter behind him lists off the nursery corner like it's a coat rack for rich ppl to leave their fussy kids, I take up a very tall seat and try to read the menu. Might as well enjoy some local fine rip-offs. Hmmm what's special around here?

"Georgie, I'd like a pitcher of the red currant juice. The lamb shank polenta. The tripe wrapped white asparagus. A truffle risotto. Lastly, a seared bone-in steak, served blue. "

"Cheesiest!"

"And a seasonal cheese and fruit tart for the child. Does anyone else want something? "

The young waiter behind the mustached host drops his tray along with his jaw. How unprofessional. At least he shut up about throwing me into the nursery.

"Ahahahahha! Uh good job!!!Our young miss ordered wonderfully! Sounds soooooo grown up because you practiced sooooo hard?! She did wonderfully right!?!" Georgie clamors about like a sweating fool.

Like a bad comedy, the maids start lightly clapping like an audience laugh track. Nodding along in rhythm with empty praises towards me before saying what's really in their hearts.

"Vino Blanco. Veloute de Chataignes , substitute the toasts for crepes."

"The house risotto and la coteletto. House vino"

"A clotted cream aperitivo and the vitello tonnato on the side.

No shame nor hesitation in placing their orders, all on my parents' dime. What maids would dare! Aha! More evidence they're fake maids. That or very unconventional ones after staying with my mother for too long.

Maybe my family in general....

Number one is foreign! Her accent in ordering what is essentially silky french chestnut cream soup impeccable. Unfortunately, that's just Vedette and we all know Father hired her from across the borders to help mother practice...many things. Very dainty and ladylike. Probably not a secret guard if she somehow kept it a secret from the original for all those years.

Sure she was almost convicted of murdering her husband back there at age 17 but in these times, that's so many women. Old news.

Number two's order is protein and carbs focused! The mushroom melody risotto, the veal cutlets battered and deep-fried with hearty sides. It's so much heavy food! No ordinary maid could handle it! Isnada has a younger face but I bet she's packing some heavy-hitting muscles down there! Her frame much heavier but does not jiggle, I can only tell there's a lower strong core to her. A very reasonable mid-level chance she's a guard in disguise!

Last but not least Matilda! My topmost likely to be a secret guard in disguise.

Who honestly ordered a very light and common cocktail and nibbles. A lovely choice on the chilled veal in tuna caper sauce, it's wonderfully in season BUT I don't yet know what suspicious conclusions I can make from that. I know the truth is out there!!!

I'm doing detective work. Ohohohoho.

Also, Georgie are you quite done?

".....that will be all. " he sighs.

Oh it's so hard being a toddler. No one takes you seriously if you're not stupid and cute.

"Ahem, right away. Please forgive the improper display, he's new. What a wonderfully well spoken young miss this household has raised. The Lord and Lady must be very proud." the host respectfully bows, subtly kicking the waiter to get on with the orders.

Immediately the experienced old host acts getting our comfort and orders assured. Though he does not know exactly which house from which we hail. The middle-aged man clearly understands we're extremely wealthy and powerful to have such confident tasteful maids and an educated small young lady.

It will be quite a long while to train Abbey up to even barely acceptable standards for public appearances. But I suppose there's something charming about her sincerity, clumsy as it may be.

Like Georgie, I suppose it suits me better. It will do for now.

Right now the lounge and much space everywhere are quite empty. Of course, there are a few people passing for whatever reason, much like in any theater during showtime. Some servants running errands. A child here or there with their nanny that also needed a potty break. That kinda creepy old man at the bar drinking down lime cocktails like they were going out of fashion. A giggling young couple hurriedly rushing out downstairs to their carriage outside, all over each other in a way that's hardly gross compared to my own parents.

So much to see in a theater, quite entertaining.

While I do find it odd that downstairs patrons, most likely well off commoners in the cheaper audience seats, would waste their time and money leaving halfway, who can control such matters?

A theater date gone right too soon? Is someone getting lucky tonight? Oh youth. How illicitly scandalous. Oh ho ho ho~

But the food comes one after another and I very thoroughly distracted. Oh boy, supper snacks!

Georgie and I spent an indecent amount of time tasting and analyzing our plates. Something we immediately share. He may complain a lot but I know his tastebuds! As he does mine, it's his duty as my jr. chef.

Luckily we're quite compatible as chef and mistress if anything.

Ordering a lot to share and try is the fun of eating out. I haven't been able to do that much...at all. Not in this life.

But prior to the whole getting poofed into another world baby, I loved eating out! I had platinum status on my dining out apps! My scathing reviews were highly followed even more so than my good ones. I had a deliciously earned reputation and the freebies that came with it!

While I had little problems dragging along someone to eat with me, after all, who says no to good food, in the last couple of years ...before that whole dying thing, I would say my MVP partner in foodie crime was....my project manager? Along with my coworkers, if they were around?

Damn work really did take over my life.

Not like I had much of one anyway. I probably would have just lugged along someone from the old bar. In the end, everything sources back to a place of work. A little depressing.

Bossman for tasting drinks. Someone else for cheaper drinks. All you can eat, family dinners all over the place, the newbies, even all the times I ended up just taking out J.J. Ah I spoiled that kid too much when he was young.

So clingy?

At work, despite the whole age and superior power difference, constant late deadline scolding, and ever-present pressure of juggling projects, Yao and I were really compatible happy hour and take out buddies.

Also sometimes a girl just needs to get her grilled intestines and chicken feet dim sum cravings down without judgment. Chinese food for life. Eat everything. Absolutely everything. Great food culture I came from, might have impacted me for live...or lives.

Ah good meals though, especially during happy hour. So many yummy things to try on the company's time and dime. Not a bad partner in crime to have.

I think he would have liked all this, anyone would. Italian food is also extremely tasty. Especially the expensive stuff, mmmmm.

"Georgie.... this truffle is passable."

"It's so simple but for the blend of cheese...I could do a better job myself...but so good....this stupid mushroom."

"We should make our own when the prime season hits! Did you know we can use Amar's nose as a truffle pig? We could gather so many."

What?! What is that disapproving look for? It's an opportunity that shouldn't be wasted!

Perhaps we stare a little too longingly at Isnada's meat cutlet until finally she gives up and cuts us a piece.

Mmmm! Cotlleta is so good! A seemingly fancy thinner version of a beloved dish in my memory that many people love.

Katsu!

It's a type of veal Katsu! A somewhat familiar texture and taste, but an entirely different eating experience. So tasty! I'm glad that across time and space, humanity has figured out they like tenderized meat, breadcrumb coated, and fried to juicy crispy perfection.

My manager liked katsu. My brother liked katsu. Jung-Joon liked katsu rice. Man why was it so popular? The magic of fried foods? Practically everyone liked katsu.

"Yummy Rosa?" my sister drools, staring at how Georgie and I squeal and crunch down. The poor maid staring down at her diminishing meat plate with dead fish eyes.

We ended up ordering another plate of cotletta. Everyone just likes breaded and fried chops ok!

It was honestly a pleasant enough time, avoiding going back to my awful horrible immensely disgusting par-

"Hey! You!"

I would like to return to my precious parents and their familial affections now. Let's go.

But it's too late. The maids have grabbed me once again before I could make a run for it. Bowing low they all greet....the stupid prince.

At the opera hall, a chance meeting. A royal prince in all his evening finery, with his impressive entourage, suddenly running into his fated lady and her painfully dying sister.

Except add in the tiny detail that we're tinier kids, and that entourage is the maids and nannies accompanying said kids on their potty breaks!

Just throw me off the balcony. Do it. I can survive. I've been through worse falls. Just fling me away from here.

"What are you doing here!?" the little prince of rocks and stupidity toddles up to us, ignoring his train of maids right behind.

Why I'm here for a public swim and to apply for a job in the kitchens. See I was inspired by the taste of veal cutlets and No! Why ever would anyone be at the opera during a show?!

The oh so wise young prince is dressed in, what I must say, is the stupidest puffy sleeves and capelet. Why are you even wearing a little cape? We're indoors? His hair behind the feathered fluffy hat is slicked back so much with wax that it looks like he's a tight eyed bald baby. Making his fat white bulgi-->>

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