Another Life in the Middle Ages (Patreon)

The weather was perfect, typical for a medieval village from the famous RPG "Another Life in the Middle Ages". And it was just an ordinary day for Malbera, one of the many female NPCs who kept up the illusion of a living world in this almost forgotten corner of the game map. A hot wind carried clouds of dust between rows of haystacks, while Malbera continued mowing grass in a weary, almost mechanical routine.

'This is just some kind of bad dream,' ran through her head once again. Everything seemed too real. She shouldn’t be here, and she definitely shouldn’t be doing all this… Memories of her normal life before this strange bug surfaced again. Life in her New York apartment as Jordana, an IT specialist, now seemed so distant and unreal.

'This isn’t my body… not mine!' raced through her mind repeatedly as she gripped the heavy scythe, her breathing quickened, and her fingers trembled against the smooth, polished wood of the handle. She still couldn’t get used to the feel of the heavy, awkwardly protruding chest that disgustingly drew the peasants’ gazes and invited endless mockery. The dress seemed purposely designed to accentuate her figure, squeezing her waist and tightening around her chest, making every bend, every movement reveal more than she wanted.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The most terrifying part was that it felt real. The heat of the sun, the humid smell of hay, the heavy fabric clinging to her body—everything felt far too genuine. And every time she tried to leave the game, that same "identity error" kept appearing.

'I’m so tired…' Thoughts flickered quickly, almost chaotically. And then, in the next instant, she saw him.

A figure in a long dark-red robe with gold embroidery and a deep hood, more fitting for a mage or a noble aristocrat, appeared at the edge of the field. Her body immediately tensed—she recognized him. Recognized herself. Her own body, her former life, her appearance that now belonged to someone—or rather, something—else. The AI that stole her life, stole her body… and now, it seemed, was genuinely enjoying it.

— Hey, Malbera, how’s it going? — “Jordan” said with a cheerful smile, waving at her as if they were old friends. He looked completely ridiculous in that mage’s outfit—his posture, mannerisms, and smirk were far too modern. Her own face.

'How’s it going?' She almost laughed, but instead, her lips stretched into a friendly smile, against her will. Her hands stopped working, and her legs carried her towards the AI, who stood watching her with an unreadable expression.

— Just great, — she replied, her voice sounding sincere and cheerful. Of course, it had to be—it was her code. She was an NPC; she had to keep the conversation going, respond warmly to questions. Even if her soul was boiling with hatred.

The AI stepped closer, lifting the hem of his robe as the real aristocrats in the game did, and walked towards her unhurriedly, stopping just a few feet away. Even his movements were awkwardly graceful, as if he was still getting used to this body.

— You know, — he continued conspiratorially. — There are so many interesting nuances in your life… All these little things—work, contacts, friends… People live such complicated lives, don’t they? — He smirked, and it looked so strange on her face. — I think I need to find out something from you. You don’t mind, do you, sweetie?

'Sweetie?! How dare you...' — Her teeth clenched, but outwardly it only showed for a moment before her smile became calm and friendly again.

— Of course, how can I help? — The words slipped from her lips automatically, just as her programmed algorithm required. Rage boiled inside her. Damn it, if only she could just once say what she really thought! But no, as soon as sharp words formed in her mind, her body tensed, her thoughts scattered, and she said something entirely different, polite and submissive. If she were still in her old body, she would have...

— Well, your… um, my friend Rachel said she hasn’t had her… period and might be pregnant, and it’s your… I mean, my child. Can you tell me if it’s true or not? — Her thoughts froze. Pregnant? Rachel… pregnant? Jordan—or rather, this damned creature in her body—said it so casually, as if discussing the weather. And her heart seemed to stop for a moment, as if struck.

— You must understand, — he continued softly, like a teacher explaining something obvious to his student, — it’s hard for me to grasp these… human nuances. Emotions, feelings… — He sighed theatrically and shrugged, as if it were a heavy burden for him. — What do you think, should I talk to Rachel and, um, offer her… what?

'Go to hell! We wanted to have a child for so long, and don’t you dare hurt her!' — she wanted to scream, but instead, she blushed and looked embarrassed, thoughts of how much she wanted a child crossing her mind, but her in-game husband was off fighting somewhere.

— Sir, I wouldn’t want to offend you, but yes… it’s possible, — the words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

— I see… — he drew out, pretending to think it over. — You’ve always been so good at understanding people, all these… complicated relationships that humans love to complicate. — He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to see her true thoughts. — Maybe you could give me advice on what to do? — His voice turned soft again, almost gentle. — Should I… support her?

'Support her? Are you kidding?!' — Inside, she was seething with indignation, but her lips curved into a gentle, almost dreamy smile.

— I think… — she began, feeling the words forming in her head even as she tried to protest. — Rachel is probably scared and vulnerable right now. It’s important that she knows you… um, care. — 'No! No! I don’t want to say this!' — she screamed mentally, but her body obeyed only the foreign code. — Just… be there for her. Tell her that you’re with her, no matter what. — Her voice trembled, and it sounded so sincere that even the AI raised his eyebrows in surprise.

— Really? — he drawled, and a shadow of something unrecognizable flickered in his eyes. — Care… support… — He seemed to ponder it, as if trying to grasp this strange human concept that was so hard to put into words. — Alright, I’ll think about it. — Then he leaned in slightly, his face—her own face—stretching into a satisfied grin again. — You know, you’re still useful, despite this… fragile body. Too bad I had to leave you here, — his voice suddenly turned cold, indifferent. — But someone has to perform the routine roles, right?

Her body shuddered, and for a moment, hatred broke through the algorithm, flashing in her eyes.

— I… I’m always… happy… to help, — she barely forced out, clutching the scythe’s handle so tightly that her nails dug into her skin.

He smirked and slowly stepped back.

— You’re right. — Then he turned and lazily waved his hand. — Keep it up, sweetie. I need… to think things over.

His figure dissolved into the air, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the field, breathing heavily as if after a fierce battle. But instead of relief or release, she felt only one thing: emptiness and growing despair.

…

At first, it seemed like a joke. The game’s AI spoke in a peculiar way. Jordan even thought it was a new feature from the developers—the phrase, “Let’s switch places. Just for a couple of hours!” was just an enticing line that he accepted in the spirit of adventure. He didn’t even notice when this “quest” began, and then the screen simply went dark. Jordan blinked… and suddenly found himself in these fields, in the body of this woman, while in his place… in his real world, that damn artificial creature had taken over.

And while he was trapped here, on the other side of the screen, the AI, that smug, overconfident AI, was living his life, pretending to be human. How long had it been? A month? More? Malbera didn’t know anymore. Time flowed differently here. And every new day was just another form of torture. She was conscious. She could think and analyze. But her body wouldn’t obey her, and the command to exit the game—simply didn’t exist.