Father and son

— Ugh, tight! — Alexandra jerked forward, gripping the back of the chair to keep her balance. A deep sigh escaped her lips as the corset was pulled even tighter. — Not so hard! I can barely breathe!

— Breathing isn’t necessary, Alexandra, — Maria replied with light sarcasm, confidently pulling the corset laces tighter. — What matters is being noticed at the reception. If you faint, well, that’ll only make you more charming. Men love women who look... fragile.

Alexandra turned her head, attempting to shoot the maid a furious glare, but golden strands of hair fell across her face. She barely held back a scream. The problem wasn’t just the corset—it was who was pulling those damned laces.

— Damn it, Dad! — she hissed through clenched teeth, addressing Maria. — Could you stop acting like an ass?

Maria—or rather, Mike Grayson, a former Marine sergeant and now a maid in this ridiculous farce—froze. Her hands stilled on the laces, and she slowly straightened up, turning to face Alexandra.

— Listen, crybaby, — her voice was low, but it still carried the echoes of rough, masculine confidence, — I’ve told you a hundred times: don’t call me that! Do you think this is easy for me? I’m busting my ass here just to keep you, God forgive me, a lady, afloat.. If it weren’t for me, those dainty little snobs in their frilly dresses would’ve torn you apart by now!

Alexandra snorted, momentarily forgetting her own anger. Her gaze locked on Maria’s face, which, despite the unfamiliar appearance, still betrayed her father’s familiar features—the stubborn squint, the arrogant tilt of the chin. But now it all looked pathetic and ridiculous, paired with a dusty apron and flour-stained hands.

— Do you really not get it? — Alexandra raised her voice slightly, tossing her hair back from her face. — No one asked you to tighten this corset like you’re sending me to storm Berlin! You’re a maid. A maid! M-a-i-d! Not a squad commander, not my mentor, but a pathetic, useless servant!

A tense silence filled the room. Maria’s lips twitched as if she were about to say something, but instead, she just exhaled heavily and looked away. Her hands clumsily finished tying the laces before she muttered quietly:

— Done.

Alexandra turned to the mirror, examining her reflection. Majestic, elegant, she was the perfect replica of the woman everyone expected her to be. But inside, she was boiling. She didn’t want to show her father how miserable she was in this body. Being a woman, feeling this cursed chest that every corset squeezed like iron jaws, the rounded hips that made sitting uncomfortable, enduring all the stares full of expectation and judgment... This wasn’t what she wanted. She had always hated feminine stereotypes and standards, dismissing them as foolish. And now, she was their prisoner.

Just a month ago, in 2024, Alex Grayson, frail-looking but stubborn, had lived in his own complicated yet understandable world. Now, he was Alexandra Burton, trapped in the prison of someone else’s expectations. Every day was a challenge—and his father, the eternal irritant, didn’t make it any easier.

— Crybaby, huh? — Alexandra muttered suddenly, turning away from the mirror and fixing her gaze on Maria, who stared back with that same commanding look that used to make Alex squirm inside. Even in this form, that aura of power and authority was still there, and it infuriated Alexandra to the point of breaking. — You’ve forgotten, haven’t you, that you’re... basically nobody here. And if I wanted to, you’d be out of this house scrubbing floors in some tavern! — Alexandra crossed her arms over her chest, not noticing how her posture became almost defiant, despite the constricting corset.

Maria stiffened, her hands clenching into fists. Clearly, for Mike—who was used to commanding others—it was unbearable to hear his former son, now a spoiled young lady, reminding him of his current pathetic position. However, instead of the usual response, something along the lines of “shut up” or “watch your mouth, I’m still your father,” Maria simply let out a quiet chuckle. Slowly and deliberately, she adjusted her apron, forcing Alexandra to cool her tone just slightly.

— Of course, Miss Alexandra, — she said with exaggerated submission, offering a small curtsey. — As you wish. After all, I’m just… nobody. — The final word was so cold that the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Alexandra felt the delicate silk collar of her dress suddenly tighten.

— Are you mocking me? — Alexandra stepped forward, her golden hair swaying as if mirroring her fury. — Dad, you… Ugh, no, this is impossible! — Alexandra stomped her foot sharply, the sound of her thin sole striking the wooden floor echoing through the room. She immediately noticed Maria’s face twitch, the corners of her mouth lifting into a faint smirk. — Maria, stop it! — Alexandra snapped so loudly that the walls seemed to tremble. She lunged forward, trying to appear intimidating, but in this body, even her anger felt ridiculous. Maria, by contrast, remained motionless, as if waiting for Alexandra to simply collapse into another aristocratic fainting spell.

— Oh, Alexandra, my dear, — Maria said with a theatrical sigh, folding her hands over her apron. Her voice dripped with saccharine mockery, sending chills down Alexandra’s spine. — Do you really think I’m upset because you call me ‘Maria’? — Maria tilted her head slightly, her tone turning almost derisive. — I actually like it now. Call me whatever you want, a maid, a nobody. But do you know what I’ll tell you? I was always right. Look at yourself. — She deliberately scanned Alexandra’s figure from head to toe, starting with the elegantly tightened corset and ending with her slender hands, which had been trembling with rage moments ago. — You’re pathetic. Even now, you’re acting like a spoiled little girl. Stomping your foot, screeching, as if it’s not your father standing before you but a strict governess. I always told you: you’ll never be a man, Alex. — Maria folded her arms across her chest, the corners of her lips curling into a smug smile. — And now look at you. You can’t even be a woman, though it’s been handed to you on a silver platter.

Alexandra clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached. Those words made her insides boil. Her father had always been like this—harsh, cold, and convinced that only his perspective mattered. But now, the situation was even more humiliating. Her father was a damn maid, yet he still managed to look down on her. She had to put him in his place.

— Is that about yourself, Dad? — Alexandra hissed, leaning forward, her voice dripping with icy sarcasm. — Who are you? A woman in an apron who’s been scrubbing floors and mending my stockings for a month! Where’s your vaunted male pride, Mike? You can’t even protest. You just obey, like this is your natural state.

Maria—Mike—leaned in slightly, her face twisting with tension, but she quickly regained her composure. Her posture became even straighter, her gaze even colder.

— I do what I need to survive, — Maria snapped. — Because that’s my nature. And you? You whine, you complain, like a little child. Do you think I don’t see how you’re bending under this world? You do everything you’re told and don’t even try to fight back. It’s convenient for you, isn’t it? Being a helpless little lady.

— What is going on here!? — came the sharp, commanding voice of Mrs. Burton as she swept into the room. She wore a severe black dress with a high collar, her blonde hair pulled back into a flawlessly styled bun, and her cold gray-blue eyes seemed to burn through the air.

Maria immediately straightened up, stepping back and bowing her head, clasping her hands in front of her. Alexandra, on the other hand, stood at her full height, her cheeks flushed with anger, her chest rising and falling heavily as if she’d just come out of a fight. Both froze, as though caught in some shameful act.

— I asked a question! — Mrs. Burton stopped in the center of the room, her gaze darting from Alexandra’s tense face to Maria’s guilty expression. — Alexandra, why are you shouting? And what is this maid thinking, behaving this way? — Her voice rang with indignation, and with each word, the tension in the room grew thicker.

Alexandra tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. On one hand, she wanted to tell her mother the truth—throw it in her face that “this maid” was actually her father, who was still trying to play the role of a commander. But what good would that do? No one would believe her anyway, that they were both men from 2024 who somehow ended up here without even knowing why. On the other hand, she couldn’t just stay silent. The whole situation was too humiliating.

— Forgive me, madam, — Maria suddenly said, her voice quiet and respectful, though there was a faint edge of suppressed irritation. — It’s my fault. I accidentally pulled the laces too tightly, and Miss Alexandra, of course, became upset. I won’t make such mistakes again.

— I heard you call my dear daughter a “helpless lady”! — Mrs. Burton’s voice grew even sharper, now laced with genuine anger. She stepped forward, her eyes flashing furiously. — Since when does a servant allow herself such liberties?

Maria—or rather Mike, who had learned over the past weeks to conceal his irritation and anger beneath a mask of submission—immediately bowed her head, clasping her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her voice was even, but her eyes betrayed a dangerous glint.

— My apologies, madam. I was careless with my words. It was a misunderstanding, and I assure you it won’t happen again.

Alexandra shot her a spiteful look but felt a strange satisfaction inside. For the first time in a long while, her father—the eternal authority and commander—looked cornered. But she wasn’t about to miss the chance to pour oil on the fire.

— Mother, — she said with exaggerated indignation, turning away from Maria, — this maid not only called me helpless but deliberately tightened my corset as if I were her enemy on a battlefield! My chest still hurts. — She theatrically pressed a hand to her chest and sighed wearily. — I honestly don’t know how much longer I can endure this.

Mrs. Burton whirled to face Maria, her expression turning icy.

— So not only did you dare to use insolent words, but you also caused my daughter discomfort? — she said slowly, her voice dripping with menace. — Your behavior over the past month has become unacceptable, Maria, and I’ve tolerated it only because of your years of service. But if you don’t correct your conduct, I’ll have to find your replacement. And believe me, finding a new maid won’t be difficult. Do you understand?

Maria gritted her teeth, forcing herself to appear meek. Inside, she was seething with rage. Mike Grayson, who had once been the epitome of strength and courage, now had to endure being spoken to like this. Trapped in the body of a peasant girl no one respected, he took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to snap back.

— Yes, madam. I understand. Forgive my carelessness.

Mrs. Burton nodded, evidently satisfied with her submissive response.

— Good. Go and prepare a bath for Miss Alexandra. It must be perfect for tonight. If I find even a single flaw—I won’t forgive you. Now get out of my sight.

Maria curtsied silently and slipped out of the room, barely containing her fury. As soon as she stepped into the hallway, her arms fell limply to her sides, and her head drooped forward. She could feel her heart pounding wildly, as if from a mix of humiliation and anger.

— Damn all of this... — Maria whispered as her footsteps faded down the corridor. She leaned against the cold wall, trying to steady the trembling in her hands. Her thoughts raced, returning to the day when she and Alex—or now Alexandra—had ended up in this insane world. It had been an ordinary evening: a heated argument, shouting, resentment. Then, the strange, crackling air, a flash—and here they were, in 1892, trapped in the bodies of two women, each imprisoned by her social status. Mike still didn’t know why it had happened, but with every passing day, his hatred for his son grew. After all, everything now depended on this spoiled, weak creature he had once tried to make into a man.