Whose the Cannon Fodder?

Day One

She has been standing in front of the mirror for more than an hour. It is still difficult to comprehend what is happening.

The face on the mirror is not hers.

Definitely not hers.

Delicate, beautiful features that belonged to a pampered princess rather than an ordinary girl like her. Not to mention the face, this tall body with its long, slender legs and thin waist, was definitely not hers.

There is only one possibility.

She is having a weird hallucination from overconsumption of alcohol. 

That is the only logical explanation she can come up with.

But...

No. Nope. Nah uh... Not going to acknowledge how real all this feels.

She's going to go back to sleep and then wake up in her normal body with her normal face and normal apartment.

As fascinating as this dream is, what with all the expensive gadgets lying around in the apartment, it feels very disconcerting.

So she's going to sleep.

There is nothing that sleep can't fix.

Do not question her on how she can sleep inside the dream. She will probably be able to twist your logic with her answer.

Sleep doesn't fix it.

Because she wakes up again and the face in the mirror is still not hers.

And the most important fact is that she woke up only an hour after she slept because of the constant beeping of the alarm. 

She doesn't acknowledge it at first; she hasn't acknowledged a lot of things in this 'dream'.

But the alarm doesn't shut off and she doesn't know how to shut it off either.

Fed up with it all she shouts.

"Shut up!"

And it does.

"Voice-controlled?" She muses as she picks up the sleek black box that had been the source of her frustration. It sits in her hand like a smooth, pretty, black rectangular rock.

It doesn't weigh much though.

"How does this even work?"

Erica knows that pretending to focus on the alarm clock will not make everything else go away but she tries.

Oh boy, she tries.

She hasn't put a foot out of this room since she woke up. There is a buzz in her head that is most likely not a hangover. And no one has come looking for her in the past three hours she spent holed up in this room trying to figure out what the hell happened to her.

And as time passed she had to come to the most unlikely conclusion.

She had transmigrated.

Erica Auburn, aged 26 and a rather successful online author, had transmigrated...

How did Erica Auburn die?

This question has a very simple answer.

She killed herself.

But was it a suicide? Not really.

Erica Auburn died from excessive alcohol consumption. She wasn't trying to kill herself. She was just heartbroken. She was so sad that she felt like dying. And then she did die, but it had more to do with the multiple bottles of unknown brands of alcohol than the pain caused by her breakup.

When she died, she never thought that she would transmigrate. As an online author focusing on dog-blood plots and fantasy scenarios, she is no stranger to 'transmigration' but it is very hard to accept that it happened to her all of a sudden.

It is fun to read and write about the protagonist who wakes up in the body of a villain in a novel just to turn the whole novel around and become the hero or the heroine. Inspiring really... But she never thought it would happen to her.

But it did. 

So the question is, who did she transmigrate into?

With a sigh, she decided that it was time to accept the facts.

Barring the very real possibility that she has said goodbye to her sanity, it was time to accept that she was no longer Erica Auburn.

So who was she?

She looks at the girl in the mirror and asks. "Who are you?"

Dramatically, the little beeping box starts beeping again. Startling her into action and hitting her hand on the countertop.

"Ow!"

"What the hell are you even for?!" She growled at the troublemaker.

An alarm definitely... But what for? Oh no... The original (she had no idea what else to call the person whose body she had taken over) didn't leave something to cook or something right?

Cursing she stepped out of the room for the first time and tried to find where the kitchen was.

It was a big place, almost similar to her own luxury apartment (hey, at least she didn't finish paying of the mortgage and then die, small blessings). But all the futuristic and almost unrecognizable gadgets in the apartment gave her a shock. 

She definitely transmigrated into some futuristic world then.

She found the kitchen easily enough. It was a bit of a mess and a baby bottle left to- 

Oh...

Oh! 

She looked at the beeping alarm she had ignored for quite a while now in horror. 

"Oh no..."

There were two guest bedrooms down the hallway and she opened them frantically but she didn't find anything or rather, any one. But she noticed the third guest bedroom (ah, the pain of being rich... Please don't make her pay mortgage even after she transmigrated!). 

Opening it with a shaky sigh she was greeted with the sight she had feared.

It was a baby room... 

Why couldn't it have been a cake in the oven instead?