At some point, I stopped counting the days.

  I only knew that it had been long enough since I became a horse.

  Long enough for fragments of information to settle quietly inside me, without panic or resistance.

  I could understand their language.

  Not perfectly. Not effortlessly. But enough.

  The words they used weren’t identical to the ones from my previous world, yet the structure felt familiar.

  The flow, the pauses, the emphasis... it all made sense if I listened carefully.

  I had expected something different.

  In the stories from my homeland, Japan, another world always meant another language entirely.

  Strange syllables. Unreadable sounds.

  A barrier that needed time or magic to cross.

  But here?

  There was no such mercy.

  Understanding came naturally.

  Which meant I couldn’t pretend ignorance.

  Today was quiet.

  The stable felt unusually still, as if the world itself had decided to hold its breath.

  No arguing guards. No hurried footsteps.

  Only the faint rustle of straw and the steady rhythm of my own breathing.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I tested my body in small ways.

  When I turned my head, my neck followed without protest.

  Slow... but obedient.

  When a sound came from behind, my ears reacted before I consciously thought to move them, swiveling on their own.

  "… So, this was instinct."

  My tail flicked lightly when irritation crept in.

  I paused.

  That reaction hadn’t been deliberate.

  Somewhere between thought and movement, this body was already deciding for me.

  The realization didn’t scare me as much as it should have.

  Footsteps approached.

  More than one set.

  The calm fractured.

  The prince appeared at the entrance of the stable.

  And this time, he wasn’t alone.

  A man followed him.

  Older, broader, with a posture that spoke of experience rather than rank.

  His eyes didn’t linger on my face.

  They traveled along my legs instead, my body, my healthy...

  A professional.

  “This is the horse,” the man said simply.

  The prince nodded once.

  “I’m a professional horse trainer,” he introduced himself.

  His voice was steady, practiced.

  “From today onward, I’ll be overseeing her training.”

  "…Training?"

  The word reached me a moment too late.

  “Eh—”

  I tried to speak.

  What came out was a confused, breathy sound.

  Too sharp to be calm, too weak to be threatening. A horse’s voice, unmistakably.

  The trainer stopped.

  The prince blinked.

  Both of them looked at me.

  I froze.

  No—

  That wasn’t what I meant to make them shocked.

  I hadn’t agreed or objected.

  I had only reacted—

  Instinctively.

  The trainer cleared his throat, unfazed.

  “You will act as her jockey, right?”

  The word struck harder than I expected.

  Jockey.

  My thoughts stalled.

  Just like before.

  Back during the war, when this body had carried him through chaos and blood.

  When he had trusted this horse with his life, gripping its mane as arrows flew and steel clashed.

  I stared at them.

  At the trainer, already stepping closer, assessing me as if the decision had long been made.

  At the prince, watching quietly, his expression careful and restrained.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  I had thought this day was still far away.

  Maybe later.... right now, I need time to prepare.

  Yet... it was already here.

  My legs felt heavy again.

  Not from weakness—

  —but from the weight of expectation.

  Training.

  A jockey.

  Standing up.

  The trainer took another step forward.

  “Let’s see what you can do,” he said.

  My ears twitched.

  My breath hitched.

  For the first time since waking up in this body, a clear and unsettling thought formed, sharp enough to hurt.

  This wasn’t recovery anymore.

  This was preparation.

  And once it began—

  I wouldn’t be allowed to stay on the ground.