I hadn’t eaten today.

  And when I thought about it properly… it had already been nearly a week since I started refusing everything they offered me.

  My stomach should have been screaming for food.

  But the sensation felt distant.

  My vision blurred as if hunger belonged to someone else.

  I didn’t feel human anymore.

  My body was heavy.

  My joints refused to move the way I wanted.

  A dull ache throbbed through my neck.

  And my legs—

  The legs that had once carried me across the racetrack, swift and precise—

  Were now long, slender, unfamiliar.

  I lowered my head.

  Cold straw spread beneath my hooves.

  Rough. Dry. Undeniably real.

  No matter how hard I tried to deny it, one image kept returning.

  That man.

  A presence that didn’t belong in a stable.

  An aristocratic air, like a prince, a king… maybe something higher.

  Perfect hair.

  A jacket that caught the light even here.

  And that smile—

  The kind that lodged painfully in my chest.

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  I wanted to scream.

  To call for help.

  But when I opened my mouth, only a weak, breathy sound escaped.

  A horse’s breath.

  Footsteps echoed outside.

  The wooden door creaked open.

  Something heavy was dragged across the floor and set down in the empty stall across from mine.

  With effort, I turned my head.

  …A mirror.

  Large. Tall. Impossible to avoid.

  The stablehand stood beside it, expression blank.

  Without a word, he pulled away the cloth.

  And then—

  I stopped breathing.

  A horse stared back at me.

  A long head.

  A slender neck.

  Lean legs.

  A tail swaying faintly.

  My body.

  I stepped back, nearly losing my balance.

  "No. This couldn’t be real."

  "I.... I was human. I was Eliza! A world champion!"

  There was no way I could be… this.

  But the mirror didn’t lie.

  Every blink.

  Every tiny movement of my eyes.

  Perfectly reflected.

  This body was mine.

  And it wasn’t human.

  My head lowered on its own.

  Panic crashed over me—fear, weakness, confusion, all tangled together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

  The stablehand watched for a moment, then spoke quietly.

  “This horse is clever,” he said. “The owner mentioned it. Not many refuse food for days like this.”

  I tried to swallow.

  Instead, another soft snort escaped.

  Different…?

  My thoughts spiraled. My body wanted to run.

  But it wouldn’t respond.

  The stablehand patted my shoulder once and left.

  His footsteps faded.

  Then, suddenly—

  Voices outside.

  “The horse is unstable!”

  “Quick—check her! Don’t let the prince find out!”

  Prince…?

  My strength drained away. I lowered my head, unable to lift it again.

  So, this was it.

  "I was truly—"

  Footsteps returned.

  Slower this time.

  The door opened.

  He stood there.

  In the empty stall across from me, he set down a basket.

  Apples.

  Fresh. Red. Bright.

  In a place filled with hay and medicine, they looked almost unreal.

  His expression was tense. Anxious.

  Like someone standing on the edge of a mistake he couldn’t afford.

  He picked up an apple, bit into it quietly, then looked at me.

  “Eat,” he said softly. “Please.”

  Not an order. Not pity. But concern.

  I hesitated for the first.

  Then, guided by the reflection in the mirror, I nudged an apple closer and bit into it.

  Sweetness spread across my tongue.

  For a moment, I forgot the heaviness.

  The wrongness. The fear.

  When I finished, his hand rested gently on my head.

  Warm. Careful.

  “I’m… sorry,” he murmured. “For panicking when you woke up. For when the doctor gave you that injection.”

  I tilted my head toward him.

  A quiet whinny escaped me.

  It’s alright.

  His hand stayed there, steady and reassuring.

  The chaos outside faded into something distant.

  The scent of apples lingered.

  My eyelids grew heavy.

  Even like this. Even as a horse.

  I felt safe.

  And slowly—

  I let myself sleep.